London-Edinburgh-London 2013
It’s been a long time since I’ve been woken up with a tap on the shoulder by a pretty young women, telling me I need to get up for some more punishment! It was 5:30am, on what was hopefully going to be our last day on the road. Dragging myself up off the inflatable mattress in a huge converted engine shed to the sound of snoring, I realised just how bizarre this ride really was. The scene of utterly desperate and spent bodies sprawled in all manner of distorted shapes across the floor, whilst others hobbled about, clutching saddlebags and clothes with a fixed stare, in search of food they knew they had to eat, but didn’t want to! Welcome to the joys of really long distance Audax!
I have to admit, LEL is the kind of challenge I like. I was more than convinced the legs could handle the distance, it was just the mind and sleep part that was the unknown quantity. My ride however, was going to be slightly different from just doing the event-I had always intended on riding to and from London, and as always, I managed to get two of the others on board. My main reasons were to be able to say I had ridden from home to Edinburgh and back again in however long it took.
On the day before the off, we had to register at the start. Micky rolled up to my house at 7:30am-no Windy though due to his earlier accident-we had lost loco one and would have to make do! The ride up went a bit quicker than usual, must have had something to do with my new bike. Micky was on his titanium steed and I was on a Kinesis Ti Tripster ATR, with less than a weeks riding on it-not ideal I know, but I was confident in it’s abilities. A bike that seemed to glide up the hills almost effortlessly despite a load on board, soaking up everything in its path, looking a million dollars to boot as far as I was concerned too-was it the perfect bike?
Once up over the North Downs, most of the hills have been done. A quick pit stop at Nell’s transport café, a dash for the Tilbury ferry and a blast through the flat Essex lanes and we were at Loughton, registering for the off. The afternoon was spent sorting stuff out and watching Chris losing his marbles-everyone has their own pre ride preparation rituals! Windy kindly fussed over us like a mother hen, cooking, feeding, hydrating us and any other small whim we may have had was taken care of. Life couldn’t have been better.
The following morning, the alarm went off at 5:00am-it was still dark, with heavy clouds scudding across the sky. Mother Windy was up and cooking us all breakfast, again, nothing was too much trouble. I felt slightly sorry for him, the rest of us buzzing with pre race nerves and anticipation, whilst he had to sit and watch us go. We cluttered off to the start and lined up in a holding pen, photos taken and all thoughts for the road ahead. It was a mixed bunch, crossing the spectrum of all that covers the world of the cyclist-the lightweight racer to the aging, bearded audaxer.
At the off, we trundled out and the sixty or so riders dispersed almost immediately-I was quite surprised. I instantly got into my usual rhythm, having heeded that Micky doesn’t like the first hour of every ride and took to the front. The first bit was rolling and we collected a few riders and dropped a few. Most surprising was Chris was still with us. I wasn’t hanging about, nor waiting for him, but felt he should have been going at his own pace, not mine! With the first hour up, Micky started coming through and the pace went up a notch and we hustled onto St Ives making the most of the tailwind.
The food at the control was a little disappointing-sandwiches and snacks, which didn’t look over appealing. I was hoping all the controls were going to be better than this. Just as well we didn’t need much and we breezed in and out, only delayed by one of Chris’s expeditions to the little boys room!
Still with a tailwind, we flew along on the flat roads. Our group seemed to swell, with faster, late starters catching us. It quickly became apparent that our well drilled bit and bit riding style soon attracted what became know as “spongers”, with people quite happy to sit in your draft an do bugger all work on the front! It all got a bit mental for me at one point-30mph in a group of twenty plus riders and I slipped out the back. The inevitable happened next and the group exploded-Micky had gone and I found myself left with all the spongers, so rode in the middle on my own to the next control.
Oh dear! The food had gone downhill. Most controls were in schools, but I didn’t expect to be reminded just how bad school dinners used to be! I opted for the soup, which was rather salty. It didn’t hit the spot, so went back for some of the meat and potato pie and struggled to wind the heavy stodge back. This was now worrying me-sandwiches and stodge were not going to get me to Edinburgh, let alone back again!
Heading for Market Rasen was much the same-flat boring roads, wind, high speeds and chain gangs. Once again the food was truly awful at the control. I didn’t want to eat any of it, but knew I had no choice. Chris was still with us and offered all sorts of advice, but my stomach was having none of it. A recipe for disaster!
Back on the road again, and at least they were going up and down now to relieve the monotonous, boring flat stuff. We had the Humber Bridge to cross in this section, which added to the excitement. Chris had wisely decided to finally let us go; the chain gangs were still going on-the speed still high. As for me, I finally snapped approaching the bridge. I’d had enough of chasing and my stomach was a mess. Micky waited, we had a quick photo on the bridge and then got a bit lost trying to get off of it. Once back on the road, I told Micky to leave me-I couldn’t hold his back wheel and I didn’t want to slow him down. I had a lonely ride to Pocklington and was feeling crap. Chris wasn’t far behind me and was offering more advise. Ironically, the food here was fantastic looking and I couldn’t eat it.
After seeing Micky off to Thirsk, I managed a bowl of rice and set off a little later with Chris. This was an exciting section for me, plenty of up and down, twisty lanes with loads of dirt down the middle. There was one steep descent followed by the same uphill-a real leg burner. I got to the top just in time for a thunderstorm, taking shelter under a tree while it passed and Chris once again caught me up. It was now dark, the hills seemed to disappear and I began to feel a little more alive. I rolled into Thirsk and found Micky, who had decided to get some sleep as he had got soaked. I was glad to stop too. Had a bite to eat and a chat with Wendy-Micky’s sister, before rolling in for some rest.
At 3:30am, we were up and eating again. And on the road by 4:30am, not feeling too bad. Had to follow a diversion, without any problems. Still seemed to have a tailwind. Things were looking to be back on track as we rolled into Barnard Castle. Thankfully, the food had improved somewhat and it was staying down now!
Next stage-Brampton. The first bit of rain was upon us-time to get wet. Saw the first guy on the road on his way back in a bullet shaped recumbent-he must have been doing 50mph!!!This stage had one small hill to get over-Yad Moss. It wasn’t particularly nasty, just long. Collected one sponger and dropped plenty more. Micky broke clear for the victory over the top and then rolled a massive gear down the other side, leaving me for dead. A regroup at the top of a steep, downhill cobbled section that was wet and slippery, before we continued on our own-still going strong despite all the on/off showers.
The next stage to Moffat included a border crossing, and a truly horrible road following the side of a motorway for far too long! The red mist had descended, the brakes were off and no prisoners were taken-back on form, 95%. Passed a LEJOG rider who thought we were all bonkers! The roads were getting wetter, but we seemed to miss the rain-a good thing I thought-the town of Moffat was under water! Our welcome to Scotland was a little strange-they were being too nice. We had to sit down whilst food was brought to your table, all very civilised. Later we discovered they had the last laugh- straight out of Moffat, the road goes up, for a long way. Not good on a full stomach.
The road to Edinburgh was superb, couldn’t fault the scenery. Okay, it was pretty lumpy and we got caught in some rain that you couldn’t see where the road went, but I was beginning to enjoy myself. We whistled along, jumping people as fast as we could, so there was no drafting. Dropping down into the suburbs of Edinburgh was fun and the fact we had ridden there was incredible-just got to ride home now! There were now people heading back on the road as well.
We had planned on continuing on from Edinburgh that evening, but the next two controls either had no beds or very few. The food was very limited as well, so we decided on an early night after getting stuck into the most delicious fish pie-not sure how many helpings I had, but breakfast was fish pie too!
Another early start, 4:30am, and we left Edinburgh, as the sun rose above the horizon-it was a bit chilly. Just as we were warming up with the help of a strong riding Finnish bloke, who was actually willing to do some work on the front, Micky punctured. Once mended, it was off to warm up again, which we did with a long climb up over a large hill, before we dropped down into one of the many valleys we were to ride through-stunning stuff; I was glad we did this bit in daylight. We re-caught the flying Fin and cruised into Traquair for a wee dram and a bowl of porridge, and it was back out on the road!
Eskdalemuir came up pretty quick too, despite the long hard climbs. Once again, stunning scenery helped make everything flow that little bit easier. We had our fill, chatted to a Belgium bloke who we’d got to know quite well and hit the road; well after Micky’s second puncture had been mended-a slither of glass.
Back to Brampton and back into England. The wind had picked up and it was right in our faces-no choice but to battle on. We passed the Belgian, who wanted to join us, but we blasted past without realising, fighting our own front. The controls seemed to be pretty quiet now as I think we seemed to be floating just off the front of the masses behind us.
I wasn’t looking forward to the next bit-Yad Moss again with a bit of a steep, cobbled climb at the start. We had a chat with a biker, who couldn’t believe we’d ridden from Edinburgh that morning. Just as we scaled the cobbles, he breezed passed with a wave; I was dreaming of gliding up the hill on a motorbike,………! Anyway, we settled down to conquer Yad Moss.
I was feeling quite good surprisingly, riding away from Micky and claiming the crown, as well as overtaking the fastest woman on the event to boot-we couldn’t be beaten by a girl! Micky took over for the downhill, leaving me behind once again-I need a bigger gear for downhill.
We overtook an American riding a TT bike, and then missed our next turn. Once back on track, we had gained the American, another sponger. Minding my own business at the front, a black, left-hand drive Porsche pulled up along side and the driver exclaimed what a nice arse the guy at the back had! He sped off, whilst we hoped he meant the Yank! We rolled into Barnard Castle, slightly relieved our friend in the Porsche had left us alone and looked for food. I collected some risotto, but couldn’t eat it. Went back for soup and couldn’t eat that either. Eventually I mixed it together, which made it rather a strange meal, but it went down!
Time seems to become irrelevant on this sort of event and as we headed back to Thirsk, new plans were being discussed. We would push for Pocklington tonight, all things being well, to make the final day a bit easier. We collected an Italian, who rode like the wind-he came past to do a turn and said 35? I thought he meant kph, not mph-he disappeared into the distance!
At Thirsk we had a quick stop. Everything excess was dumped with sister Wendy, and clean kit collected for the next stop. We also learnt of Chris’s demise-what went wrong! With photos, goodbyes and good wishes said, we were off into the night. I knew this was going to be a tuff end to the day; it was a lumpy route with a bit of offroad for good measure. The hills however, didn’t seem to be too bad and the pace remained high. We had a bit of a run in with a motorist who took offense to Micky’s curt reply; I think he disliked the fact our lights were so bright! Just afterwards, we re-caught the Italian who had slowed down in the dark due to poor lighting. We chatted and discovered he had ridden to the start as well-over the Dolomites, the Alps and the whole of France; made our effort look pretty feeble!
Having reached Pocklington, it was food, shower, clean clothes, sleep-no messing. A 5:30am alarm call followed by breakfast was to be the start of our last day. We squabbled over food-I got the last bacon roll; Micky got the last fruit yoghurt! Neither of us wanted to trade. I asked Micky the time-his reply was Wednesday, which I suppose was all I needed to know. Things were just happening now as a matter of course and we hit the road.
The first part of the day was warm and sunny. My backside was feeling a little more comfy, the mind was still fairly sound, despite the fact I was dreading the flatlands with the inevitable headwinds to come. Crossing the Humber Bridge again seemed to be the point at where the headwind really started to make its presence felt. Micky was also feeling rougher by the mile with chronic indigestion. On one uphill section, my knee went twang, leaving me wondering if it was to be a painful ride home-I had to finish now whatever!
Silently, we rode into Market Rasen, both suffering in our own ways. The control was dead, with only the volunteers about. There was also no food to choose from-I was not happy. This seemed to be a problem caused through being just ahead of the masses. Grabbing a cup of tea, I sat down to contemplate the food situation, when I spied someone with a fresh plate of fish and chips with mushy peas-problem solved! That meal really hit the spot-110%!!
The rain really hit us on the next section too. I knew the roads were now all flat and long, probably really great on a dry day when you have no deadlines or thoughts in your head. Jet fighters constantly buzzed overhead, the only company we had, the only excitement to be had. Talk had dried up; we were both concentrating on clicking the miles away and getting to the next control.
Kirton hadn’t improved its food either, but you’ve got to keep eating. Poor old Micky didn’t know what to try, nothing seemed to improve his situation. Again, the same routine-eat and leave, this time as quickly as possible. At least the rain had been blown away-next stop, St Ives. I took to the front and powered on into the increasing headwind for 81kms. I didn’t enjoy this bit, the blinkers were on and I dragged Micky along. We caught a lot of riders, all suffering in the wind, who probably despaired as we left them floundering, but my goal was the finish line now-tonight!
The catering staff got a rollicking at St Ives-no choice again. Micky no longer cared and was swarming about like a headless chicken whilst I was on fire, needing sustenance. The Germans were applauding my riding into the wind and I felt I deserved the wedge of black forest gateaux that suddenly appeared on the counter. Even Micky went back in for a slice, despite feeling as sick as a parrot. You are probably beginning to create a picture in your head now of how desperate things have become-all we were worried about is food, wind and crossing the finish line.
I had no idea what the time was, but the evening was turning out to be rather nice. We still had the wind, but a bit more shelter as we headed into some lumpier terrain. Again, the riding was quiet, the pace hot and the ultimate goal was the only thing on our minds. We kept catching desperate looking riders, clinging on to their dignity, shot to bits! As we neared Great Easton, the penultimate control, the last of the light was going. This made our approach all the more exciting, down some twisty, narrow, filthy lanes. I left Micky behind to revel in some speed through the corners, up and down, but he soon re-joined me to roll in together to the most bizarre of all the controls.
It was like cycling meets kids party/rave! Music was pumping out of this quiet looking village hall! Everyone was on cloud nine and I was beginning to feel it was time to leave already. We sat down at little tables covered in sweets, biscuits and doughnuts, waiting for the party hats to appear, for a cup of tea, whilst a strange woman, with large staring eyes kept appearing, asking if we needed anything. In the far corner of the room, I could swear there was a giant, purple striped mushroom emerging from the floor with pixies leaping about underneath it! A man in the loos was throwing these black objects down the pan, offerings to the pixie lord, which were apparently burnt rice puddings, but he did put me onto a tasty bowl of tinned peaches, which Micky found to be his magic cure for the rest of the ride. We left cloud cuckoo land, slightly bewildered as to what had just happened, to much applause, in the dark, at 9:30pm-ish with only 45kms to go!!!
We sped through a large town in hot pursuit of three riders, getting clapped and shouted at by some supporters on the side of the road. I was still towing Micky along as we cruised up behind them and then straight past. They waited, then came back round, leaving us for dead; Micky said we’d get them later! Over a couple of miles, I reeled them back in, sat in their draft until the guy on the front tired on the start of a long climb and then jumped them. I wound the pace up so high there was no way they were following us. Once over the top, Micky gasped they were no longer with us and did I expect anything else at that speed! I was definitely on fire, even another planet now-must have been the fairy dust sprinkled on those peaches, we were homeward bound!
We picked riders off one by one. Twinkling red LEDs were like carrots on a string. One German guy we had collected earlier on the way to St Ives, jumped on the back and got told to bugger off by Micky after a mile or so-I asked Micky how far to go, he thought I said that bloke has got to go, it was quite funny at the time! Ahead were a group of lights, which turned out to be the first lady (?) on the road with her entourage-they had to go too! We caught them on a set of roller coaster hills, the sort where you use top gear down and just blast up the other side-they probably didn’t know what hit them!
At last, the M25 came into view, signalling the final few miles were upon us and the pace relaxed-a little anyway! My right ankle and knee were shot to bits and the only thing keeping me going was the finish line and a cup of tea! We cruised up to the school gates at the start to little fanfare for what we had just done and clocked in. It was good to see the smiling face of Martin Baddam on the control and had a brief chat before collapsing in the hall-job done!
London-Edinburgh-London in 89 ½ hours or there abouts! Not the quickest, but not too shabby either-I was well chuffed!!
The following day, we just had to ride home! I was in a bit of a state to be honest and could have stayed there, but Micky said the deal was from home to home! We dropped by the finish before we left and caught up with a few people we had ridden with who hadn’t long finished. It was good to catch up with the gossip and exchange stories. Micky then dragged me to Tilbury where upon we finally got to eat something we wanted to eat. It seemed to perk me up and we left Gravesend in 38*C, with Micky having fallen apart now! Once over the North Downs, it always feels like your home and we sped on to Mark Cross and the parting of the ways, after a pint or two of course! The final leg for me on my own was quite relaxed and satisfying-I can now say that I have ridden from home to Edinburgh and back in a mere six days!!!
A huge thanks to Micky for the company and waiting on the first day. I think we rode excellently together, both pretty evenly matched and both willing to work together in times of need-it couldn’t have gone any better. An amazing achievement and one to cherish forever!
Thanks also to everyone else who played a key part-Chris for making me do it. John for the pre ride training and bike hotel. Wendy-a friendly face when you need one and carting stuff about. Paddy at Kinesis, via Mark, for finally sorting me out with a cracking bike-and yes, it really was perfect for the job (looking forward to being able to enjoy it now!). And all the rest of you well wishes, who make me keep going-great stuff! Not sure I can wait four years!
Well done Paul and Mick (and Chris) on an impressive ride.
ReplyDeleteAn excellent achievement.
Ashley.