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2011: Fresh Challenges

I can't believe 2010 has been and gone. It seems almost like yesterday I was battling the snow and ice in Edinburgh taking part in the 2010 New Year's Day Triathlon. No such shenanigans this year, but 2011 does have much to offer. As we reach the latter part of the year, I can look back on trips to Mallorca in March with Team Geri Atrics, and a few days in the Pyrenees in May to ride with Messrs Indurain, Hinault and Merkcx in a new sportive there, all part of my training build up to the Big One, La Marmotte 2011 in July. And along the way there have been plenty of other days out, time trials, other sportives and even a weekend riding the C2C. And as Helen gets more time on her new bike, there is that to look forward to as well. Yeah, 2011 has, so far, been pretty darn good. This is the story so far.....

December 31st

So much for 2011. Whilst it has bowed out with a bit of a whimper with just two opportunities to get out on the bike in December, I have to say looking back on the year it has been a real cracker for me. Obviously the main highlight was the Marmotte, so so hard but rewarding in the extreme. To come away with a silver after 11 hours in the saddle was a real boost. Close behind comes the ride Paul and I enjoyed revisiting the Bealach and improving our time, despite atrocious weather, together with the Fred Whitton which I rode for the first (and probably last) time, again in some pretty atrocious conditions on a day when finishing felt like an achievement. But more than that, Helen and I have enjoyed some wonderful rides together as she grows in confidence and puts her first sportive behind her. None more so than our weekend riding the C2C with Pete and Sharon, an amazing experience for all of us. Yeah, there has been so much to enjoy, but now is time to look forward and concentrate on another year. 2012 will have a lot to live up to if it is to eclipse 2011.
Totals for December
Distance ridden: 153km
Total ascent: 1170m

Total Figures for 2011
Distance ridden: 7375km
Total ascent: 83,710m
Best ride: By a comfortable margin the Marmotte, but with an honorable mention for the C2C

December 24th: Happy Christmas

Wow, Christmas has arrived, it's time to dust off the cheeseboard and port bottle and forget about time trials, sportives and club runs, for 24 hours at least. December has been disastrous from the bike point of view, I have more or less written it off as my month of rest as a meagre two outings is all I have to show so far. And with the weather not showing much sign of improvement over the next week I think the new season training can wait until January. I'm sure there will be some out there who are piling in miles on the turbo but I have to say I find it pretty soulless and prefer instead to expend some calories on my rowing machine and call it cross-training. The magazine articles all seem to suggest that this is good for us, so that's good enough for me. In the meantime, I hope that all of you who indulge my indulgence and read this blog have a great Christmas, and may 2012 bring fresh challenges and achievements on your bikes. Enjoy the ride!

December 7th

Hmmm. Looks like winter has arrived witha vengeance. There's snow on the fells, it's blowing a gale and the roads are not at all pleasant. In short, there seems little incentive to take the bike out of the house at the moment. I have managed a few short outings but I can't see December being a very active month, not on the bike at any rate. I have acquired a rowing machine which now sits in my living room and allows me the luxury of a good workout any time. I certainly missed out on the gym earlier this year, so this will be an ideal opportunity to keep that core fitness going through the winter. Fortunately I have a big living room. And a loud hi-fi system! In the meantime I am now thinking seriously about events for 2012 as part of the build-up to the Etape in July. The Tour of the Peak at the end of May seems like a good opportunity to test the legs, coming just 6 weeks or so beforehand, and taking in some iconic climbs (Cat ∓ Fiddle and Holme Moss to name just two). Should be a good day out, and something to aim for.
Totals for November
Distance ridden: 541km
Total ascent: 5200m

November 18th

After a couple of weeks of escalating excitement the big day finally arrived. Thursday November 17th - Etape registration day. Entries were open online at midday (european standard time) and, by a quirk of bad planning, I was out on my bike enjoying a pleasant 80 miler in the Cheshire lanes. But good planning meant I turned up at Pete's at about 11.30, both for a brew and, more importantly, to make use of his computer and internet access. Fortunately he understood! The Etape du Tour website was inundated and was struggling to cope with the surge of interest but, after some 10 attempts, I finally managed to successfully enter my details, make the necessary financial arrangements (a snip at 75 euros) and - bingo, I was in.

Crikey, suddenly it's real. I will be riding the 2012 Etape du Tour Acte 2, Pau to Luchon. A 197km jaunt through over some of the most famous Pyrenean climbs, including once again the Col du Tourmalet. Actually, I have to say I am looking forward to the challenge. I think! Sadly, the next day I learnt that my hopes of riding the 2012 Maratona dles Dolomites were not to be realised as I hadn't made the cut. Ah well, never mind. That may be for the best. Now, to say the least, I have a goal for 2012. Can't wait.

November 6th: Cumbrian Cracker sportive

Well, you really couldn't wish for a better day to ride a bike. Not a breath of wind, and wall to wall sunshine to illuminate some glorious autumnal colours were just a few of the benefits of a day in the Lakes. The Cumbrian Cracker (nee the Christmas Cracker) from Epic Events took place on Sunday and Paul, Cal and myself lined up at the start in Grasmere to enjoy a glorious day in the south Lakes. At just under 60 miles I have to say from the outset we treated it as an alternative Sunday Club Ride, albeit with just the three of us (there were some 400 or so other riders too!). So at just about 9am we rolled out, the weather crisp, cold and clear. First up is the rather daunting Red Bank, a 25% beast of a climb with wet greasy winding slopes which are a real test with barely a mile under our tyres. But on the positive side, once it is over that's really it for the rest of the ride. From then on it was sunshine and smiles. By the time we got to Coniston we were warmed up and our breath wastaken away by the stunning scenery. Coniston Water was as a mirror, with the Old Man reflected in its still waters. The route took us down the east shore, winding up and down with a view that it was impossible to take your eyes from. As we sallied southward sadly Paul suffered a catastrophic mechanical as his freehub failed. His ride was over for the day, and he limped gamely back to Grasmere. Cal and I continued determined to enjoy the day for him, and it just got better and better. In a couple of hours we were rolling into Cartmel where the feed was situated, a simple spread of cakes, flapjacks (mmmmmm) and tea and coffee. Just what the cycle-doctor ordered. Suitably refreshed, and totally oblivious of the clock we set back out on our way back north to Grasmere. As Cal and I chewed the fat, enjoyed the gentle south-Lakes gradients and felt the gradual accumulation of climbing in our legs, we eventually pushed into Grizedale and approached the last significant climb of the day, the road up to High Barn. Cal couldn't resist as a bunch of triathletes cruised by and, gauntlet laid down, he was off. I rode tempo and passed a few of said triathletes who had, perhaps, overcooked the first part of the ascent, to take the top and head off down the steep, tricky but very enjoyable descnt into Hawkshead. Now it was just fun all the way back to Grasmere and Cal and I lapped it up, riding into the event headquarters with 4 hours 28 on the clock (we had spent some 35 minute sof that dallying, so were pleasantly satisfied with our day's work. Paul had made it back ok, and we enjoyed a soup and mulled the events of the day. Yeah, it was a cracking Cracker.

November 2nd

Winter has arrived. The coming of "winter" time is always a saddening time as it means less time on the bike. The long dark evenings make it an ideal to look ahead and plan and that is just what the last 2 weeks or so has been about. The excitement which built up in mid-October as the announcement of the 2012 Tour de France route was leaked and then made official. The great surprise came a few days later when the Etape routes were announced. I think we had all been expecting stage 17 which finishes atop the ski station at Peyragudes to be the choice, but instead stage 16 has been chosen - a monster 197km etape with 5200m of climbing. I'm not really sure why but as the day arrived I had convinced myself that maybe another pop at the Etape might be in order. After all, being in close proximity to my good friends Pyractif, it would be rude not to really. So the Etape it is then. Oh, and for good measure, I have put my name into the hat for the 2012 Maratona dles Dolomites which takes place a couple of weeks before - now that will be a handy training ride ahead of the Etape. Suddenly 2012 is taking on a whole different complexion.

After the relative disappointment of the Welsh etape, October has been a quiet month on the bike. Mostly it has been spent riding the new Ribble and I have to say it is a mighty nice bike to ride. After a few initial setup issues it seems about right now, and I am starting to clock up the miles. Helen and I have had a few trips out into the Cheshire countryside and also down in Devon, riding the delightful Teign valley a couple of times whilst on holiday down there. And now we head into November and this weekend sees the Cumbrian Cracker, a rather enjoyable ride out of Grasmere down to Catmel and back, some 60 miles. Paul, Calum and I have entered and will enjoy the day. Then it's a case of roll on Spring.

Totals for October
Distance ridden: 554km
Total ascent: 5765m

October 9th: The Etape Cymru - could do better

After several weeks of anticipation and preparation I headed down to Chester for the weekend, full of optimism at the prospect of a cracking ride in the Welsh hills. The inaugural Etape Cymru, a closed-road event in and around the Berwyn and Clwyd hills was upon us. Sadly, the weather prospects were less than favourable which served to dampen the spirit, but we cyclists are made of stern stuff, and a bit of wind and rain wasn't going to spoil the day (too much). For some reason we were asked to sign on on the Saturday - whether they expected such huge numbers that Sunday morning registration would be impossible we shall never know, but it necessitated an extra trip out to Wrexham on Saturday morning to pick up timing chip, race number and "goodie bag" (sadly minus the promised gilet, probably the one decent item in the bag, ah well).

Sunday morning dawned (actually I was up well before dawn as an 8 o'clock start time meant being out of bed by 6) and the weather was strangely subdued. No rain, as had been forecast, and only light winds as I drove out to Wrexham to join the other 1500 or so hopefuls - actually I suspect it was much less than this as the weather forecast would certainly have deterred some from riding. As the promised 8am start time came and went there was a murmur of dissatisfaction, and it was nearly 8.20 before, finally, we were allowed to roll out, a mass start a l'Etape du Tour. The first few miles were fine, wide open roads and the field relatively comfortable, but suddenly we were funnelled into a single track lane and the ensuing chaos was entirely predictable. Before long we hit a steep (if short) climb and all around was the clatter of bikes on tarmac as the swell of riders was too much for the road to bear. Not ideal.

I threaded my way through and gradually the field did begin to spread out. And, miraculously the sun came out too. For the next hour, the ride into World's End, was rather enjoyable, despite the wind which was increasing all the time. High above the Dee Valley near Llangollen the scenic views were spectacular, so much so that it would have been easy to plunge down the steep drop-off whilst gazing at the view. World's End was the first "classified" climb on the route, but by then I was already registering some 600 metres of climbing. Here I really thought I would be walking with the number of riders on the climb, but the field was just about spread out enough for me to stay on the bike to the top, passing the many who felt it was just too steep (and it was!). So far, so good. Out on the moors, though, we began to feel the full force of the ever-increasing wind and it was hard work at times. The descent into Minera is steep and fast and needed care, before we began the long section out to Llandegla and Corwen, full on into the now very strong headwind. Time to find an ally and share the load, and he came in the form of a Kenilworth Wheeler. Not a word was shared, but we took our turns on the front and made relatively light work of the next 10 miles or so before heading out into the wilds north of Llandegla.

At this point it all got a bit surreal and it would have been easy to lose the plot. After riding along some pleasant lanes high on the hills we came to a t-junction. No signs. No marshalls. No idea! Very soon we were some 50 or so in number and a decision was required. I had a map, someone else a Garmin and the consensus was turn right. So we did. After a couple of miles, another junction. By now the group numbered getting on for a hundred, I guess. There was much debate, but still no idea. In the end, there was a split, some going north, whilst I and a few others headed south. Fortunately, before long, we were back on route, only to be confronted by a car. Closed roads?

There followed a steep descent before we were back into that headwind again. I found another ally, a gentleman called Chris from the area, and we again shared the work, So much easier. Then we changed direction at Corwen and at last had the wind behind us. What a difference. At Carrog we started to climb again, a winding road taking us to the flanks of Llantisilio Mountain, the second climb of the day. This takes us up onto wild open sheep-infested moorland with fantastic views of the Dee Valley and (on a good day) Snowdonia. The ensuing descent was steep and technical, and time to take it easy. No point in any heroics here. The road then followed the river Dee for a few miles, still very much up and down before, finally, we came to the foot of the Horseshoe Pass, the main climb of the day. By now it was raining (at last) as I crossed the timing mat at the start of the climb. The clock was ticking, but tired legs and that blessed wind ensured a pretty lethargic climb. I rode with an Irish lad and we exchanged experiences for a while before the top came into view. The crowds were cheering and clapping, a welcome spur as I sprinted for the line and a terrible split time. No danger of any records being broken by me today sadly.

The feed here was fairly chaotic, but I managed to top up on water and grab some banana before the short descent. At this point the whole ride seemed to take on a surreal air as we were inexplicably diverted away from the final climb near Ruthin, and instead headed back toward Wrexham (it was later revealed that much of the signage in the area had been wantonly removed and the police felt it judicious to cut the event short - the great British public, eh). As the rain mistled down but with that tailwind again, it was pleasant enough riding until one last brutal climb, a cheeky 25% haul through trees which had the wheels skidding on the leaves. Not fun. All that remained then was a 10 mile time trial back to the start/finish, tarnished sadly by the ever-increasing number of vehicles on the route and one particularly scary moment when some ******* insisted on driving headlong toward me past parked cars forcing me to take evasive action. I politely suggested he might be in the wrong!

That last 10 miles was quick (only about 28 minutes), but there was still time to get lost again. Once again a small group of us arrived at a t-junction only to be confused by the lack of any signs. We were off route again, but we tossed a coin (metaphorically) and within a mile or so rejoined the action and sailed down to the finish line.

It had certainly been an epic ride. In the end I clocked about 144 kilometers and over 2630 metres of ascent. Far tougher than had been suggested by the organisers, with hardly a flat road on the entire ride. My time of a shade over 7 hours put me in the top half, but with so many riders getting lost, going off route and (a significant number ending up riding short according to their Garmin readouts) I suspect my effort was more worthy than it first appears. Anyway, despite all that I did enjoy the experience, it was certainly a cracking route (even if it was curtailed). It is hard to ignore the negative aspects of the event and organisation sadly, something which clearly needs to be addressed if the event is to become established on the calendar. Not least was the fact that, for an expensive closed-roads sportive, it was hard to believe we were getting real value for money and the fact that we met far too many cars was unsettling to say the least. So, on balance, not the best event I've taken part in, but a day to remember.

October 2nd: The Etape Cymru looms

With just a week now till the inaugural Etape Cymru in north Wales, I have probably done all I can to prepare. And I have to say I feel anything but ready. My last decent ride ahead of the big day was last Thursday, a foray out into the Berwyn hills round Llangollen over some of the roads to be used for the Etape. The road closure signs are already in place, a reminder of how close it is now. f the four main climbs in the Etape the only one I hadn't ridden was over Llantisilio Mountain, so I headed for Corwen and the road over Bwlch Groes. On a day when temperatures were in the mid 20s and the sun was shining it was a good day to be out on the bike. Snowdonia glistened in the distance as I headed upwards. The new Ribble was handling well but my legs were sluggish. The top of the Bwlch is spectacular enough and from here the road plummets to the Dee valley far below. And it was here that I found my brakes were less than effective - the front brake cable was snagged. Not a good time. I managed to limp home, a good ride out of some 80 miles, but somehow not as satisfying as I had hoped. The Etape will certainly be no pushover.
Totals for September
Distance ridden: 592km
Total ascent: 6800m

September 27th: a new bike arrives

There is nothing quite like having a new bike. Some say you can't have enough bikes, although where to put them might be an issue. After a bit of a mishap with my trusty old Giant winter bike high on the Horseshoe Pass a couple of weeks or so backwhen the inner chainring snapped in two (not pretty) and having felt for some months that my Giant wasn't as comfortable a ride as it might be I bit the bullet and ordered a new road frame from Ribble. It took an evening with an allen key to dismantle the Giant leaving me with a pile of pieces on the floor in my hall, the frame will find its way onto eBay in due course. Two days later my shiny new black Ribble EM2 frame and forks arrived and it was time for the fun to begin. I have to say there is something rather theraputic about building up a bike from scratch. The satisfaction as it comes to life is palpable. And by the end of the evening I had something approaching a new bike. It needed a couple of extra bits and bobs (quickly ordered online) but by the end of last week the Ribble had been on its first outing, a 55 mile leg stretcher round the Cheshire lanes. Feisty, lightweight, rather fun. Tonight it has been all about applying the finishing touches, a new gold chain, some handlebar tape and trimming the cable ends. Ready for another run out into the Welsh hills on Thursday, winter will be a bit of alright I think (apart from the snow and ice, of course).

September 3rd: The Bealach Mor revisited

Our annual trip north to the far reaches of the North-west Highlands has come round yet again. Paul and I set off on Friday afternoon for the long, long drive to Lochcarron and a date with the Bealach na Ba in the annual Bealach Mor sportive, 92 miles of rugged Scottish mountain roads. Saturday morning dawned wet and grey, not a promising start. Sadly, it didn't really improve. Actually, it got rather worse and by the end we felt more than a little bedraggled. The event was sold out again, over 600 riders having signed up for this, the 6th edition of the event. I'm not sure how many turned up on the day, but I would guess there were quite a few DNSs on account of the weather. We were there, though. In the car park we assembled the nikes under a cloud of blood-sucking midges which made life very unpleasant. It was a relief to get on the bikes and ride, just to be rid of them for a while. Having signed on we had to wait for the 9 o'clock piper to herald the official start, then we dibbed and were away.

From the off this is a toughie. A 4 mile climb out of Kinlochewe gets you warmed up, then the groups begin to form as the road heads to Achnasheen. Now the road heads west and the next 18 miles is downhill with a tailwind. We were flying. Sadly, Paul was dropped from our group along here and I didn't see him again until the other side of Applecross (he passed me while I was in the loo at Lochcarron!). And by now the rain was torrential, we were wet through. But enjoying it strangely. From Lochcarron the fun ends. From hereon in it is all up and down. And the ups are so very up. Many of them are 16-20% ramps and sap the energy. And in the midst of this is the Bealach itself. A 10km cliimb, from sea-level to over 2000ft. In the cloud and rain, not so enjoyable. On here it is everone for him or herself. At the top of the climb the road reaches 20% and many were walking, others were weaving across the road, thankfully closed to traffic. It is a stranegly bizarre sight. Having dibbed at the top (I would learn my time later, but it was nothing startling) it was now time for a cautious descent in the rain and cloud. In front of me one unfortunate came a cropper on a tight left-hander and cartwheeled onto the tarmac. Marshalls were quickly on hand to check he was ok. It was a timely reminder - better to finish than risk it on the greasy roads.

From Applecross the road now heads round the peninsula, an undulating roller-coaster road, fast in places, agony in others. It was along here that I rejoined Paul and we sped on together, mindful now that we might just possibly get close to last year's time, despite the weather. At least the rain had abated now - for a while anyway. Every ramp seemed to be steeper than the last. And harder on the legs. And there was always another one. This section of the ride is beautiful but interminable. The heather was an amazing purple, the sea lochs calm. Stunning scenery. Painful too. Finally we reached Shieldaig, and now it was just 18 miles to the finish. We had an hour.

Paul and I pulled together and somehow dragged our tired bodies over the hills to Torridon. Now it was one last draggy climb up and over to Kinlochewe, time for one last effort, 10 miles of pain. And the rain had returned. By now Paul was on a mission and he was gone, pulling away up the drag. I followed and somehow kept him in sight, keeping the pace as high as I could. Over the top and now it was a fast finish, 4 miles to the finish line and glory! Well, a PB anyway. As I stopped the clock at 5 hours, 41 minutes and 8 seconds I was elated. Paul pipped me by just 25 seconds, a best time for him too. We were tired but cockahoop. The picture tells the story!

Totals for August
Distance ridden: 875km
Total ascent: 9100m

August 22nd: Riding the C2C

The classic C2C route from Whitehaven to Tynemouth, some 140 miles of very hilly cycling, is a must for any serious cyclist (my view, admittedly, but arguably true). Some choose to ride this over a week, some over a day. On this occasion, and taking into account the limited experience on the part of some of our team, we elected to spread the ride over 3 days. Helen, Pete, Sharon and myself set out from Whitehaven on Saturday morning, full of optimism, enthusiasm and a hearty breakfast, bound for the lofty Lakeland Fells and an adventure. 5 miles in we found it as Pete succumbed to our first (and only) mechanical issue, a soft front tyre. This we discovered in Cleator Moor as we explored the backstreets of Pete's youth, a veritable trip down memory lane for him. Soon we graduated from disused railway line to small country roads which led us toward the first of the C2Cs big climbs, Whinlatter. The weather was surprisingly good to us and the views of the western fells were quite splendid, but this was forgotten as our intrepid team reached Whinlatter's lower slopes. At the summit we dined hearily in the visitor centre café, watched the busy mountain bikers coming and going, before heading back out onto tarmac and the steep descent to Braithwaite, avoiding the indisciplined tourist drivers as they spied the ice-cream van and lurched across the road in front of us. Keswick came and went and the clouds gathered, the afternoon slipping away as we rode the disused Keswick-Penrith railway line. Soon we were well wet, and the day took on a more desperate feel. We still had many miles to go and spirits were flagging. We sang songs (very badly) to pass the miles. Eventually, around 7pm, we reached the haven of Morrisons superstore in Penrith - where we found toilets and chocolate (not sure which was more important). Only a handful of miles left now and before too long we slipped into the village of Great Salkeld in the Eden Valley and found the sign of the Highland Drove Inn, our resting place for the night. We had managed 100 kilometers and some 1250m of climbing.

The following morning, although cloudy, was at least dry. Yesterday's rain had receded and we set off in high spirits. A shorter day today, but the big climbs, one after the other, lay ahead. First up was Hartside, from Renwick, a steep climb but with fresh legs perfectly manageable. The team set to with a tenacity and strength which was exciting to behold, and not once di they succumb to shank's pony. The top hove into view, the elation was palpable. First climb of the day done. A celebratory photo and we were off on the long, gentle easy descent to Alston. This was fun. And before we knew it we were sitting outside the Blueberry Cafe enjoying a well earned coffee and a big slice of homemade cake. Excellent! We still had a long way to go though. The road undulates now for a few miles as far as Nenthead before rising steeply, harshly onto Alston Moor. The sun was breaking through by now, the day was warming and the views of the Pennines were stunning. Our team were less impressed by the vertical tarmac and struggled before cresting Black Hill, at 609m the highest point on the C2C, and the boundary with Northumberland. We celebrated by having a communal lie-down! The moors up here are wild and open, with long sweeping roads which are very enjoyable to ride. A few miles on an we were plunging down into Allenheads and lunch at the cafe there, a delicious bowl of soup to warm the soul and gird our loins for the next challenge, the steep haul out of Allenheads, a mile of pain. That was Northumberland, now we were in Durham - we were ticking these counties off with alarming speed. And the cycling matched it as we now had a 5 mile descent to Rookhope. Time to enjoy. At Rookhope, where Pete was unceremoniously savaged by a discourteous prat in a green sports car, we faced yet another steep climb over Stanhope Common and down into Stanhope. By now, for some it was a climb too far and the time to walk had come - no shame there though. At last we arrived in Stanhope and all that remained was the day's last, and worst, climb, Crawleyside Bank. This climb strikes fear into strong men's hearts, brave cyclists quiver at the thought of its gradients. With sections of 25%, and with tired legs, this was the most challenging part of the whole day. And Pete rose to the challlenge with a relish, huffing and puffing his way up, almost fit to burst but ultimately successful. I swear there was a quiet smile on his face, though it may have been a grimace of pain. The girls soon followed, taking a more sensible approach and stretching their legs on the steeper sections, before we finally reached the day's end at Parkhead, the renovated railway station on the old Waskerley Line. From here it is literally downhill all the way. A tough day, we had cycled 69 kilometers and climbed over 1600m. No wonder we were knackered.

Our third day on the bike dawned bright and sunny. Up on the moors the clarity was startling, the heather even more vibrant. A few sheep gazed wistfully over the garden wall of Parkhead, the grass as ever been greener. No hills today, but there were still 60 odd kilometers to go and we need to get our skates on after a tasty breakfast. The first part of the day was along the Waskerley Way, an old disused moorland railway line, part of the original Stockton and Darlington railway network, Britain's oldest line. The Waskerley line continued until the 1950s before sadly running out of time. This part of the C2C runs gently downhill all the way to Consett, tracing a line through the heather moors above Stanhope. A number of gates slowed our progress but eventually we reached some strange metal sculptures outside Consett, a legacy of the old steelworks, long since disappeared. Here the C2C splits, and we headed north east down the South Tyne valley towards Newcastle. Progress was still steady rather than spectacular due to the obstacles (gates, roads, etc), but finally we found ourselves riding alongside the river and reaching its confluence with the mighty North Tyne. We could smell the sea. Still some miles to go though, we crossed the river and headed along the bank into Newcastle centre and stopped for a pleasant lunch under the numerous bridges across the Tyne, opposite the wierd and wonderful Sage building. In an ideal world I feel the C2C should stop here, but there are still another 10 miles to negotiate and it really was a stretch too far. Stop-start all the way, we actually went off route at one point, but finally we hit the estuary mouth and rode the esplanade to the finish, a strange signpost atop the promontory in Tynemouth. Celebrations were muted, it was more a sense of relief that we were finally there. The guys were tired from their efforts, but we had enough energy to wheel the bikes down to the North Sea and dip the tyres symbolically. Job done. That was the C2C. 63 kilometers and just 200m of climbing today, a total of just over 15 hours on the bikes from Whitehaven. It had certainly been an adventure, and the sense of achievement dawned on us all as our transport carried us west back to our cars in Whitehaven. Yeah, that wasn't a bad ride really. Actually, we did pretty good!

August 18th: An Arran Adventure

For some years now I have quite fancied the idea of catching an early morning ferry over to the Isle of Arran with the bike and riding a circuit of the island, catching the evening ferry back. In essence, an Arran daytrip adventure.And for some weeks now I have been keeping my eye on the weather to try and grab the opportunity on one of my Thursdays off. The last few weeks has seen wet and dismal weather concentrate especially oin Thursdays thereby thwarting this embryonic idea. Until today. A quick poke on Facebook found Dav up for a bit of a day out, so at 7 we met up just north of Carlisle, threw our bikes together in the back of my Civic and headed up the M74, bound for Ardrossan and the 9.45 ferry to Brodick. The adventure was on.

Despite the schools being back in Scotland and the resultant early morning traffic on the A70 we just made it, putting the bikes together and rolling on to the ferry at just after 9.30.Now we could relax, a day's cycling lay before us on uncharted roads. How exciting! As the ferry rolled in to Brodick we gazed across the bay to the dramatic peaks of the northern half of the island, Goat Fell dominating. Ahead of us we could see the windy tarmac strip heading up over the String road which splits the north and south halves of Arran, and this was our first target for the day. After a quick visit to the Co-op, that is. We needed a bit of nosh to carry with us, then we were on our way. The String is a steady climb of about 3 miles heading west out of Brodick, high up onto the moorland before a long gradual descent (into wind) toward Blackwaterfoot. In parts the tarmac was shocking, with potholes that tried to suck is in, but we enjoyed one long stretch of smooth new tarmac which was a joy. Soon we were riding the soutern coastal road, the aim being to do south Arran first. Although there are no more major climbs the road is far from flat. Indeed, the Garmin data proved later that there is more climbing than in the 'hillier' north. The view out over the Clyde were atmospheric, with some heavy cloud and some sunburst. Ailsa Craig came into view, a lumpy rock some miles to the south. The camera was getting some exercise too. This was great. Dave and I enjoyed the relatively quiet roads and the traffic was, by and large, immensely courteous. A joy.

Before too long we crested the last climb and sped back down into Brodick where lunch was calling. We sampled the Tatse of Scotland in a cafe on the seafront, with great views of the bay and mountains. A cheeky pint washed it down (after all, this is a day of leisure, not a race). Now for the second half of our day, the hilly north. The road is pan-flat for 6 miles to Corrie, then abruptly heads upwards and over to Lochranza. Here the quality of the tarmac takes a bit of a nosedive, and this was compounded by the sudden sharp stinging pain in my ankle. I looked down to see a bee attached to me, and he wasn't well. I had been stung. I resisted the urge to rub the affected part for 2 days, at which point the whole area swelled up pretty dramatically, just in time for the C2C in fact. For now, it seemed ok, and we pressed on. The descent to Lochranza is long and technical in places, but fun. From here the road swings west, then south round the island and we found a stiff headwind which slowed our progress, along with my photostops. Suddenly we realised that the clock was tciking and we had a ferry to catch. Dave took the front, I sat in and we were heading south at 25 mph, before it was my trun to pull. Finally we swung east and headed for the return climb over the String. It really was going to be close. Dave cruised up the climb, I huffed and puffed my way behind him and somehow we got to the top with some 20 minutes to get down to Brodick. No problem. The descent is superfast (50mph) and we were catching traffic which had passed us on the climb. And with about 10 mi nutes to spare we rolled into the ferry port and caught our breath. 115 km and some 1400m of ascent, quite a day on the bikes. Thanks Dave, I enjoyed that.

August 14th

It is now some 6 weeks since the Marmotte and I think I have now come back to earth at last. Or maybe not. People asked me immediately after the event whether I would ride it again. An emphatic no was the reply. Thing is, now I feel I'm wavering. Yes, I think I would consider a rematch. But maybe not next year. There are other fish to fry yet.

And since the Marmotte? Well, the cycling has been decidedly low key. I have managed a few time trials, not I have to say with resounding success. Respectable rather than electrifying. I am now turning my mind to the Bealach, only 3 weeks away, and Paul and I will head north for yet another bash at the iconic climb. This is another event where we turned to each other after last year and said 'we don't need to do that again'. And, yet, here we are. Next weekend sees Helen, Pete, Sharon and myself taking on the C2C, a 3 day tour from Whitehaven to Tynemouth. They are a little apprehensive, I suspect, the prospect of what will be a tough 3 days for them is a bit daunting. Having ridden it before I see my role as one of support as much as anything else. We will get through it, and the aim is to enjoy the experience - it certainly won't be a race. I took Pete and Sharon up the Cat and Fiddle today, for Sharon this was her first ride up the iconic Cheshire hill and she was truly elated to reach the summit non-stop, just over the hour. And rightly so. It was a brilliant effort. Last weekend Helen and I took a ride out from Chester to the Clwyd hills to climb Moel Famau, a bike-walk-bike trip, covering just shy of 50 miles with some serious hills. For Helen this was a good groundwork ahead of the C2C. And it was certainly an enjoyable day out - we only got wet once! My other project for the summer is being continually postponed by what is turning out to be consistently crap weather. I would dearly like to head up to Arran for the day and ride round the island. After two aborted attempts there is another window of opportunity this week - we will have to keep fingers crossed.

August 4th. The 2011 Tour de France.

The 2011 edition of the Tour de France will, in my opinion, go down as one of the most dramatic and exciting in many years. For the first time in what seems ages we had a number of genuine contenders, we had an amazing contribution from Thomas Voeckler who, at one point, seemed capable of a podium finish and who only just failed in that when it came down to the time trial, and we had our very own British success in the green jersey competition. One cannot help but wonder what might have been were it not for that fateful accident which took Bradley Wiggins out of the race. A podium finish? The yellow jersey? Probably not the latter, but the podium place was a real possibility. There was also the shocking incident when two riders were taken out by a rather appalling bit of driving by one of the press cars, something which still makes me shudder. Quite how Johnny Hoogeland and Juan Antonio Flecha weren't more seriously hurt remains a bit of a mystery. Fortunately they weren't and managed to continue. In the end, much of the excitement came in the last few stages, most particularly the long stage to the finish atop the mighty Col de Galibier. Andy Schleck's long break and apparent Tour winning lead was, somehow, brilliantly countered by Cadel Evans' amazing effort on the final ascent to peg back Schleck's lead to manageable proportions. It was gripping to watch, all the more so as the realisation that Voeckler might keep his yellow jersey for another day, much against the odds. Add to that the fantastic weather and the spectacular mountain scenery, it will go down as probably one of the best Tour stages ever. Cadel Evans ride in the time trial two days later was also inspired and finally brought the little Aussie the yellow jersey, just when it mattered. And I have to say he was a fully deserving winner. Cavendish's heroics in the green jersey competition were no less inspired. He fought seemingly impossible odds, got through the mountains despite two days when he came in outside the time limit, was docked points for daring to stand up to Thor Hushovd, and saw off a determined but ultimately doomed attempt by Rojas to spoil the party. To see a Brit atop the podium on the Champs Elysees was a wonderful moment. No doubt he can dine out on that now - though I'm sure he will continue to win many more races, not least at the Tour in future years. The talk is of him being the best sprinter and it seems difficult to counter that. There certainly ar every few who can consistently challenge his dominance. So, all in all, a really enjoyable, dramatic and colourful Tour de France. Bring on 2012.
Totals for July
Distance ridden: 610km
Total ascent: 9650m

July 7th 2011: So that was the Marmotte...

The 2011 edition of the Marmotte has come and gone, leaving a huge impression on my cycling psyche. It is a truly awesome event, with over 7500 riders lining up in Bourg d'Oisans early on the morning of July 2nd, keenly anticipating a long day ahead. For some of us longer than others. At 7am it was pretty chilly as we waited for the early riders to get away. Paul and I had ridden the 15km in from the village of Allemont, partly as a warm-up, and partly because we knew Bourg would be chaos. And it was. As we arrived in town the first vanguard was let loose on the course, streaming out back along the road to Allemont at breakneck speed. We stood to one side and watched wave after wave of them, some 2000 in total. Quite a sight.

Eventually, as the clock ticked round toward 8 we sensed movement and, sure enough, we edged toward the start mat. And then we were riding, the clock was ticking, and the Marmotte was swallowing us, trying hard to spit us out. The first 13km is a softener before the first of the monster climbs, the Col du Glandon. At 22km it is long and hard. It was still cool but as the climb went on the day warmed, and so did we. Paul was already off into the distance and I settled into my own ride. And the scenery was stunning, which helped ease the pain. A bit. Finally the summit of the climb hove into view and after only 2 hours 20 minutes I crested the final metres to the top. From this point the ride is neutralised, primarily because the descent off the Glandon has proved dangerous in the past. And there was a feed here. Paul and I took full advantage, Paul having waited for me, resting and stretching. We topped up food and drink, took in the amazing views and, finally, made our way carefully down the Glandon - gobsmacked by the apparent stupidity of riders who seemed reckless in the extreme on a part of the course where the time didn't matter. At the foot of the Glandon the timing is resumed, so from here on the clock was ticking again and we now made good speed up the valley, finding a good group to shelter in for the 20km before the start of climb number two, the Col du Telegraphe.

At this point Paul was off and away, I wouldn't see him again till the end, though he would suffer his own problems before then. I now rode steadily up the Telegraphe, a mere 12km ascent which, for me, turned into a bit of a monster as I suffered badly on the top half of the climb, though the company of a fellow Cumbrian from Honister 92 on the climb helped somewhat. Fortunately I recovered on the short fast descent into Valloire before the road veered upwards once more, this time on the massive Col du Galibier. At this point the second feed came, a very welcome break to take on much needed food and particularly drink.

The Galibier is a 9000ft monster, its summit at 2645m puts it into the stratosphere where oxygen is thin and the sun strong. Again, the scenery was amazing, both rugged and beautiful at the same time. And the relentless nature of the last steep 7km ground away at your resolve and energy (it was here that Paul was suffering so badly up ahead of me). All you can do is keep pedalling. On and on. Eventually, after some 2 hours on the 18km climb the summit was near, with just the last cruel kilometer teasing me before - yes, the top! Although the clock was ticking I decided some (brief) time off the bike was in order, enjoying the huge Alpine vistas. Next up was the descent. And, boy, what a descent. From the Galibier it is (more or less) 50km downhill, all the way to Bourg d'Oisans. A chance to recoup some of the time I had lost on the climbs. Sadly, a stiff headwind made this more difficult, but it was still quick and fun. There were very few riders who passed me on this section (compare and contrast with the climbs!). The fact that the road passes through several tunnels on the way made it all the more interesting. And, as with the valley section after the Glandon, I managed to hook up with a group which helped with the relentless breeze.

Sadly, and before too long, the foot of the final climb approached. The Alpe d'Huez. Legendary. Brutal. Steep. Frightening. A feed at the foot of the climb was one last chance to take stock, top up the bottles and then launch. From now it was 13km in one direction - upward. From here on in it was a question of willpower and resolve. The top inched ever nearer, each pedal stroke brought me closer to the finish. By now finishing was all that mattered. Optimistic thoughts of gold had long since vanished, and even silver really no longer mattered. This was a ride on which simply finishing the course commands a certain amount of respect and kudos. And finally, just after 7pm, having been out on the parcours for just over 11 hours, that finish line came into view. By now i was emotional, sprinting to gain those few extra places and seconds - like it really mattered! And then it was over. And relief flooded in. The clock stopped at 11 hours 7 minutes, good enough on the day for a silver award after all. Elated? I should bloody well say so.

Paul's ride had been equally epic for him, and he had finished some 40 minutes earlier, again good enough for silver - though he had been handed a bronze on completion (later corrected). And those medals were certainly hard earned. At the finish we met up with Kev, the Gibbonator, who had also ridden ( he steamed past me on the Telegraphe looking impossibly comfortable). He had got within just 3 minutes of a gold, but he too was elated with his ride. Of the 7500 starters only some 6200 finished. It is a tough tough day. Unlike the Etape which attracts a gamut of rider ability, the Marmotte is truly hard core, and most of the riders who turn up are hardened and experienced. And even then it's hard.

It is probably worth reflecting, with hindsight, that my thoughts after those hilly rides in north Wales and up Hartside, believing we were ready for this, were somewhat off the mark. Hartside and Horseshoe Pass are really pretty inadequate as training rides for the Galibier or the Alpe. They are simply not long enough or severe enough. And although I have ridden in the Alps before, tackling them all in the one day makes a huge difference. 5000m of climbing really does batter the legs and the will. Nevertheless, I was probably as prepared as I could be, and I did complete AND I got silver. So, all in all, it was a pretty successful day. One to remember.
Totals for June
Distance ridden: 740km
Total ascent: 7650m

June 23rd 2011: More hills

As the Marmotte gets ever closer the last week or so has seen me riding gradually shorter but concentrating more and more on hills. Last week I made it out to Llangollen for one last long ride, including two more reps on the eponymous Horseshoe Pass. The weather was kind enough which makes a real change in this increasingly damp and dismal summer, and the climbs were enjoyable and, more to the point, pretty even in tempo. This week Paul and I ventured out with Kev to the lower slopes of the Pennines at Langwathby. From here we rode east and did 2 ascents of the Hartside hill climb, probably the closest we have locally to an Alpine-like climb. Only 40 odd kilometers but the best part of 1000m of ascent, a thoroughly good workout. Should stand the 3 of us in good stead come July 2nd as we line up in Bourg d'Oisans. Then today I headed out to Macclesfield and tackled the rather enjoyable Cat and Fiddle, a climb I have not visited since July of last year. With a helpful tail wind and the ominous threat of rain in the air, I paced myself up the climb trying to emulate the sort of effort required in the Alps. The fun came on the descent as that helpful tailwind became a stiff headwind and I found myself at times out of the saddle trying to get back down to Macclesfield! All that remains now is a thorough service of the trusty Synapse before we pack the bike sinto the car next week and head for the Alps. Can't wait!

June 12th 2011: Ah, the joys of summer

Don't you just love a good old British summer. On the day they announced drought orders in the south east we enjoyed hailshowers and rain in the Derbyshire peak district. Today it was Cheshire and the temperature reached a heady 9 degrees, but the wall-to-wall torrential rain and stiff wind meant it seemed so much colder. Helen and I had decided to ride the Bob Clift Memorial 50 mile bike ride, organised by the local CTC branch. On a warm summer day it would have been delightful, sadly the day was spilt by the conditions which made it rather less than pleasant. After 25 miles we arrived wet and bedraggled at the lunch stop in Eaton and tucked into beans on toast and hot coffee trying depserately to warm up. At this point I felt the best course of action was a direct-route 10 mile 2-up time trial back to base with Pete in tow, whereupon we could return to pick up the girls in the cars. Good plan and Pete was game. It was the best part of the ride, and finally I felt warm as we arrived back at HQ. As we sat in the pub we resolved to return and ride the route again on that balmy summer Sunday and enjoy it. A special mention should go to the organisers who smiled, cajoled and generally helped make it less painful, and for cheerfully putting up with a lot of wet cyclists!

Earlier in the week I headed out once again into the Welsh hills round Llangollen to hammer my legs on the Horseshoe Pass. I have recently entered the Etape Cymru, a closed road event in October which looks rather enticing, using the likes of the Horseshoe Pass, World's End and the Shelf as hill climbs on its challenging hundred mile route. As part of the event they have issued the Horseshoe Challenge, a timed ascent of the climb, with the opportunity to have your name displayed on the website (talk about an ego trip!). More to the point, I wanted to do a couple of ascents and indeed did the first rep in the big ring. Not sure it was a great idea as I arrived at the summit with legs of jelly, albeit in my best time this year. A descent into the wind to Corwen, and back down the Dee valley to Llangollen and I was ready to try again. Sadly, my legs were not so willing and I twiddled up on the small ring in comfortably my slowest time of the year. Ah well! All that remained was the 25 miles home to complete a tough 90 mile preparatory ride which, with the Marmotte now only 3 weeks away, will hopefully stand me in good stead once I've recovered.

May 27th 2011: La Roue d'Or Pyrenean

There is something special about riding sportives on the continent. The frantic and somewhat primitive elements which dog so many UK sportives are replaced by an assuredness that comes with territory. French sportives are both competitive and totally enjoyable. Not for them the concept of battering riders into submission by trying to include the steepest bit of tarmac in the kingdom. And the standard of riding is so much higher than in the UK too. The Roue d'Or is a brand new event and as such, had the novelty of including a plethora of previous Tour de France winners in the field. Who could resist the chance to ride alongside Miguel Indurain? Or Eddie Merckx? Or Bernard Hinault? Amongst others. Well, not me for a start. And sure enough, there I was lining up alongside these greats. The oldest, Roger Walkowiak, won the Tour the year before I was born. And there he was, resplendent in yellow jersey, ready for the off. Quite humbling really.

The route was short at 115km, but included 3 big Pyrenean climbs, 2 of which were new to me. But before we even got to the first climb there was a helter-skelter 50km circuit in the valley round Argeles Gazost, run off at about 31kph (and that was near the back!). By the time we got to the first climb I was already feeling the pace. Riding with Tim (from Etape 2010) and Steve, we battled our way through the stragglers onto the climb of Col des Bordéres. At about 16km it was long and difficult, and soon we were in the cloud. And I was beginning to struggle. That early pace, fun though it was, was a mistake. Tim and Steve dropped me and I rolled over the summit a hundred metres or so back. No sooner had we descended than it was on to the next climb, the Col du Soulor, which turned out to be the easiest of the three. Steady climbing into the cloud and drizzle, I was on my own now. This was becoming attritional. The shorter route alternatives were behind us so there was no turning back. The descent off the Soulor was horrible. Gravel and damp, slippy roads made it pretty treacherous, but eventually I came to the foot of the Col de Spandelles. This was a beast. 10km at 8%, with long ramps of steepness and pain. Cramp set in, and worst of all there were no indicators of how much was left to go. Finally the top hove into sight. Relief! All that remained was a flying 17km descent back into Argeles and the finish line. I flew. This was the best part of the ride and before long I was removing my timing chip. What a great event. I never saw Big Mig or the Badger, but they were there at the finish. Big Mig was gracious enough to pose for the camera with me, complete with tranquil smile. A magic moment for me. Tim and Steve rolled in some 15 minutes quicker, good rides both. I was happy enough with my 5 and a half hours, the 2750m of ascent making it a tough old day.

I enjoyed a further two days in the Pyrenees, the weather being altogether more agreeable. Climbs of the Port de Bales and Peyresourde, the Col de Portillon and Superbagneres rounded off a brilliant short break, proper training for the Marmotte which gets ever closer. A big thank you to Chris and Helen at PyrActif for their ever wonderful hospitality. I shall have to start planning my next trip.

Totals for May
Distance ridden: 860km
Total ascent: 14150m

May 18th 2011

It's the middle of May and, until now, I hadn't yet ridden a time trial this year. Unusual? Very. Anyway, this has now been addressed as, last night, I rode my first time trial of the season, an undulating 10 miler down near Cockermouth. Given the atrocious weather we seem to be suffering at the moment the conditions seemed rather clement. True, it was fairly windy, but the rain stayed away and it wasn't too cold. Having spent some time over last weekend putting the TT bike back together after a winter of inactivity I rolled it out to the start line, waited for the countdown and looked forward to 25 minutes or so of pain and discomfort. Truth be told I rather enjoyed it. I wasn't sure just how I would go - would it be truly embarrassing? In the end it wasn't and, whilst my PB was never under threat, I felt it was respectable enough. And, more importantly, as a last intense effort before my trip out to ride the Roue d'Or sportive in the Pyrenees next weekend it was perfect.

May 8th 2011: The Fred Whitton Challenge

Brutal. It's the only word for it. 112 miles of gruelling, challenging terrain made harder on the day by some atrocious weather. This was a real tester of an event. It started ominously with Paul and me sat in the car in Coniston at 7.15am as the rain pounded on the roof - I really didn't want to get out of the car and go and ride my bike. On the other hand the longer I waited the more risk there was of not making the 1pm cut-off at Whinlatter, some 62 miles into the ride. There was nothing else for it - I had to bite the bullet and go for it. Paul in the meantime had the luxury of another half hour or so in the car as he wasn't planning to set off til 8 - but then he was on a different strategy to me. These youngsters... As the rain eased I grabbed my window of opportunity and, at 7.32, crossed the start line to embark on the Fred Whitton Challenge sportive. This was going to be hard. My approach was quite straightforward - I had decided to ride my own race, not to be distracted by other groups or mates riding past, not to fall into the trap of riding with someone else at their pace. And it worked, by and large. The weather made it more interesting - the rain was a bit on-off to begin with but, by the time I was heading into Borrowdale and the first monster of the day (Honister at 25%) the rain was threatening to turn nasty. Halfway up the climb it did. Raindrops the size of golfballs bounced off the tarmac (and my helmet) and the temperature plummeted as the winds swirled round the fells. It really was not ideal cycling weather. The real problem though was the impending descent. The top of Honister is a monster 25% piece of uneven tarmac which, in these conditions, resembled a skating rink. Try controlling a bike on ice at 25%. It really is quite hard! As I slid downwards with very little control I confess to being more than a little concerned for my own safety. Somehow (not sure how) I survived and reached the relative safety of the Buttermere valley and the first feed. There were stories of crashes on the descent. And everyone was feeling the cold. It was a bit like a refugee camp.

Suitably refreshed, I was back on the bike and over Newlands before you knew it, and another slippy-slidy descent. Whinlatter was altogether easier, and at the top was the first checkpoint of the day - and some amazing crowds of onlookers and fans. The atmosphere, despite the shocking weather, was great. The next part of the ride saw a gradual improvement in the weather as we headed west thourgh Ennerdale and over Cold Fell and down towards Calder Bridge, where the second feed awaited. Finally, I felt able to remove my rain jacket at last, having finally warmed up. The sun was out and it was almost a nice day now. And, indeed, the next 2 hours back to Coniston would have been a lovely bike ride - but for what had gone before, and the fact that we had to negotiate Hard Knott and Wrynose. My strategy on Hard Knott was, I confess, quite simple - I would walk the 25% and 30% sections. I saw no point in wasting energy trying to prove a point. As it was, I chatted away to a fellow sufferer who was manfully riding on the steeper section higher up as I walked alongside him - and he was struggling to match my pace. Whoever invented SPD cleats should get an honourable mention here! The descent off Hard Knott is also a bit of a nightmare, again it is such an uneven road surface and trying to control the bike was, for me, rather worrying. It's funny - but give me a 30km fast Alpine descent anyday. By now the clock was ticking and my chances of beating 9 hours rested with a fast run-in from the foot of Wrynose - not a good time to get leg cramps which forced me off the bike for a few minutes in Little Langdale. The final (little) climb of the day left me with a race against the clock back into Coniston, 40kph along the A593 as I chased my target. And made it. 8 hours and 56 minutes. Job done. Right, where's the pasta?

A footnote to all this - Paul rode a terrific event, and stormed over the line in 7 hours and 6 minutes. 112th place - pretty impressive for a 21 year old I reckon. But, boy, is he suffering now!

May 5th 2011: World's End and back, the alternative vote

On polling day I chose to exercise my right and voted for a bike ride. Well, it would have been rude not to! Down in Chester on my day off, and having submitted my postal vote a week or so ago, this left me free to explore yet more of the country lanes in the hills round Llangollen. A couple of weeks back Helen and I were walking the limestone cliffs north of the town and I spied this wonderful looking moorland road heading up out of the valley and over toward Wrexham. That's World's End, I was informed. Well, there's a hill just waiting to be climbed. This is my last chance at some miles before Sunday's Fred ride, and whilst I didn't want to batter myself, I felt something reasonable challenging was required (I hope I haven't overdoen it!). Taking the long climb up to Llandegla from Chester and then over the eponymous Horseshoe Pass, I enjoyed a pleasant and fast descent toward Llangollen before takinbg a SHARP left, heading into the depths of the hills and bound for World's End. At Eglwyseg the climb proper begins, winding up to the head of the valley before a violent left hairpin and (surprise) a ford. Once through this the road just goes mental, ramping up through the trees at gradients approaching 25% and with a road surface that makes a forest trail look smooth. After what seems an eternity, but was probably not, the road emerged from the trees, the gradient eased and I changed up a couple of gears. The rest of the climb is decidedly easier and the road then winds across the moor before plunging down to the village of Minera. I have to say the hill climb tables don't really tell the full story as the maximum gradient is far steeper than the 7% shown on the profile. Statistics, eh? Back to base, a bit of a tailwind helped, though I was trying to save my legs ahead of Sunday. It certainly is a good ride out, just over 100k and a couple of useful climbs. I shall revisit definitely.

May 2nd 2011: Shenanigans on the Golf Ball

April has slipped by and the main event is now exactly 2 months away. Gulp! Training has been somewhat slower than hoped, though I have managed a couple of longer rides. Another foray over the Horseshoe Pass confirmed my fears - my climbing still isn't where it should be. Today, though, has seen an altogether different hill-climb experience. It has been a while since I rode the steep road up Great Dun Fell, aka the Golf Ball. Dave D and I set out this afternoon, a gorgeous sunny day but VERY windy, with the intention of climbing the beast. We knew it was going to be hard. The wind was from the north-east which meant riding uphill into a headwind. Bad move. The first half was tough enough, but as we reached the steepening second part of the climb we ran full scale into the teeth of the gale. Aarrgh. Wobbling about on the bike is never dignified, but it was all we could do to stay upright at times. Well, truth be told, I didn't! As the road reached its steepest, the wind took hold of me and the bike and dumped us unceremoniously on the tarmac. Ouch. At this point discretion took over and valour was consigned to the cupboard. Time to beat a retreat - not actually that easy as the wind made descending almost as much fun as climbing. Chastened we span our way back through the leafy Cumbrian lanes to Dave's house for a well deserved coffee. We will be back! All of which leaves me shaken ahead of the Fred next weekend. Time alone will tell.

On a lighter note Helen and I enjoyed the Chester and North Wales CTC Spring Tourist Trial, a 50 mile sally through the country lanes of the Cheshire/Welsh border. Very enjoyable, great craic and brilliant scran. Many thanks to the organisers for a lovely day. Helen especially enjoyed herself after the trials of the Cheshire Cat a few weeks back.

Totals for April
Distance ridden: 537km
Total ascent: 7000m

April 10th 2011

Spring arrived with a flourish this weekend and we have been treated to temperatures up in the 20s and wall-to-wall sunshine.Oh, I do like Spring. Having been over in Yorkshire for a few days I had a few spare hours today and took the Cannondale for a spin up Wensleydale, such a beautiful valley on a day such as this. Insanity ruled and there I was, quite suddenly, climbing Buttertubs Pass from Hawes, a brutal 5km ascent with paragliders leaping from the scar to the east. It was quite a sight. From the top the road then plummets steeply down into Swaledale and there follows a delightful run down to Reeth before I turned right and took in another climb over Bellerby Moor and down to Leyburn. Not as steep or as long, but sapping enough on tired legs. In the end a 60 mile thrash which, as a training ride ahead of the Fred Whitton next month goes some way to getting me prepared. I think I need to do another 4 or 5 such rides before then though (gulp!)

March 31st 2011

And so spring has arrived. Well, I think it has. Today temperatures were up in the high teens, along with a very strong wind. But no rain. And the clocks have changed. Can't help but feel the optimism. I managed my first after-work ride into the hills on Monday - in daylight. Oh, it was so nice. And March comes to an end with me managing a quick blast through the Cheshire lanes, repeating one of my favourite loops - flat, but interesting enough, the winds being too strong today for a foray into the Welsh hills sadly. Have to be pleased with a time 8 minutes quicker than 3 weeks ago.

Highlight of the last week though was the Cheshire Cat sportive, on Sunday last. This Kilotogo event has grown out of all recognition from the small cosy event it was when first run out of Knutsford some 5 or 6 years ago. It boasted some 3000 entrants and the start and finish were particularly chaotic. In between there was some enjoyable riding to be had and Helen and I were joined by Pete and Sharon - for Helen and Sharon it was their first taste of a Cycle Sportive. In the end, Helen and I crossed the finish line together in (literally) a smidge under 4 hours, Helen was delighted at her achievement and rightly so. And Sharon and Pete were only a few minutes behind us, Sharon too was well chuffed to a) have completed, and b) achieved a bronze standard. Perhaps the best was still to come in the shape of a rather welcome massage which eased away some of the muscle aches after my week in Mallorca.
Totals for March
Distance ridden: 1010km
Total ascent: 10100m

March 20th 2011: Mallorca

It never ceases to amaze me how fast a week can slip by. We (Team Geri Atrics) have just returned from the (sort of) sunny Mallorca where we have been conditioning our legs to the idea of riding a bike - a lot. Actually, Team Geri Atrics is expandingthese days, we numbered 11 on this trip with a number of interlopers who definitely seemed underage. Not fair when you're slogging up that 10km climb, only to find that some 21 year old upstart has got there first, and by some distance too!

Mallorca does have so much to offer the dsicerning cyclist. Not least are the mountains, splendidly spectacular with some long climbs (not Alpine admittedly, but challenging enough) and some cracking descents. The highlights of the week are
1. Sa Calobra. This is both an amazing descent and a beautiful climb. The descent, bizarrely, must come first as the road is a dead end down a cliff to the sea. 10km and 700m, with so many twists, turns and hairpins that you get blown away. The climb is tough, with hundreds of cyclists to keep you company.
2. Descent to Soller. This is a glorious 10 MILE downhill from the foot of Puig Major, swooping ever down to the little town of Soller. With wide roads, steady gradients and some top views it is one for the videocam.
3. Coll de Soller. Another twisty climb, this time with 30 hairpins in just a few short kilometers. As the main road goes through the hillside in a tunnel, there are only cyclists for company (but there are a lot of them)
4. Cap de Formentor. The far north east of the island has a road which should be on everyone's must-ride list. It has climbs, descents, a tunnel, and a dramatic clifftop finish at the lighthouse. Only 20 short kilometers from Port de Pollenca, but worth every pedal stroke.
5. San Salvador. This is a hilltop monastery in the middle of a flat plateau, and to reach it requires a 400m climb up yet another of those twisty Mallorcan roads. and the views are amazing. And there's a cafe at the top too.

By the end of the week we had each and everyone gained some fitness, enjoyed some long days in the mountains and battered the cameras into submission. With 600+ kilomteres and 7500m of climbing in my legs I hope this will kick-start my build-up toward the Marmotte. Paul managed a hefty 800k, even more impressive, and is ready to start racing. By comparison it was nice to get a gentle 25 mile ride in the Cheshire lanes with Helen on Sunday, a perfect antidote to tired legs.

March 3rd 2011

The second half of February seemed to slip quietly by, helped by the fact that I took a week out to enjoy some spring sunshine and warmth in Seville WITHOUT a bike! How refreshing it was too. I must admit, though, that I came back ready for some more ride miles and today has been the first ride of 2011 on the Synapse summer steed. Light, fast, responsive and clean, and sporting a brand new gold chain and sparkling new 11-28 cassette. All a bit of a novelty but on a dry day, after the early frost had burnt off, it was just what the doctor ordered. This was actually a proper reliability ride, testing the bike out ahead of our impending trip out to Mallorca (now less than 10 days away), and the excitement is mounting.

On the sportive front, after a quiet year in 2010 we are getting a bit more adventurous again this year. Helen is facing her first sportive in just over 3 weeks, the Cheshire Cat, whilst we have just sent off forms for another 50 mile ride, again in Cheshire, in the middle of April. She is quite getting the bug it would seem. We managed a fine 30 mile ride on Sunday afternoon and her legs have fully recovered. And Paul and my entries for the Fred have been accepted (not sure whether that's good news or not), so May 8th has been inked in on the calendar for some serious suffering.

Totals for February
Distance ridden: 470km
Total ascent: 4300m

February 13th 2011

It's that time of year again when club cyclists get out their best bikes, dust them off, check the tyres aren't TOO worn, spray a little oil on the chain and roll up for the club Reliability Race. Our very own club Reliability ride was today, a 55 mile jaunt through Hadrian's Wall country north and east of Carlisle, on a damp, drizzly winter Sunday. As is always the case, the turnout was good, though I'm sure some were put off by the Met Office promise of heavy rain all day - thankfully it didn't materialise and we were rewarded with a great day on the bike. Perhaps more important than the ride itself is the fact that the event gives everyone the opportunity to reacquaint themselves socially with other club members, share stories of winter woe, how the snow and ice has prevented them looking at the bike for the last 3 months and how the turbo trainer has burnt hot in the garage as we all try desprately to retain a little winter fitness. Exaggeration is the watchword here as we try and outdo fellow riders in our tales of winter suffering. And by the finish, as we returned to the ride HQ on the outskirts of Carlisle, the legs were nicely tired after a few hills, a couple of sprints and the usual all-out flat-out ride in to try and claim bragging rights. Great fun. This, for me, was all on top of a shorter 40 mile ride out over the Caldbeck common roads on Saturday in fine clear weather. At long last it seems that Spring may just be around the corner.

February 6th 2011

We've had snow and ice. Now it's rain and gale force winds. Surely 2011 must let up some time soon. This weekend has been a writre-off as far as the bike is concerned. Thankfully I did manage a sneaky 75 miles on Thursday out into Welsh territory, riding over the Horseshoe Pass once again. Such a classic descent down into Llangollen, and this time I took the bike cam with me (video now onYoutube). It's a new video camera which, sadly, didn't last the distance, and I ended up using my digital camera in HD-video mode instead. The ride itself was rather enjoyable, warmer and altogether nicer than the same ride a fortnight ago. The only drawback was the persistent headwind on the way out, which was converted to a handy tailwind for much of the return. I confess I am still very much in "endurance miles" mode, the weather is far too unkind to allow anything else yet. But confidence is building, and Mallorca is now just 6 weeks away. Can't wait.

January 31st 2011

So, that was January then. Can't say it was the most exciting month on the bike ever - the snow, ice and cold put paid to that. Nevertheless, it has had its moments, most notably Helen's first outing on her new steed, and a renewed acquaintance with both the Horseshoe Pass and Whinlatter (the latter fried my legs somewhat, a hard day in the saddle). My legs are recovering, and I feel driven to get out and do more in the coming weeks. The exciting thing is that the days are getting noticeably longer and Mallorca is now just a few weeks away. The gym work is beginning to pay dividends too and I plan to test that with another visit to Llangollen later this week. Yeah, the season ahead is beginning to look more promising.
Totals for January
Distance ridden: 415km
Total ascent: 3800m

January 27th 2011

The fitness regime is gathering some momentum now as I am trying to settle into a routine. Apart from the opportunities to get back out on the bike at long last, Paul and I are doing a weekly session in the pool, trying to swim around 2km a session, and the indoor rowing is beginning to reap some rewards. A partigularly focussed session in the gym today saw me take a huge chunk off my 2000m time. For those who relish a challenge, my 2011 best is now standing at 7 minutes 32 seconds exactly. This was enough to push me up the world rankings to the heady heights of 301st (out of 821), a rise of some 130 places. Not sure I'll be challenging the top guys there, but it is satisfying all the same. And tomorrow, all being well, I plan to do my first ride over some of the Lakeland cols to test those legs. Can't wait!

January 23rd 2011

This was indeed a momentous weekend as, finally, we had the chance for Helen to try out her new bike, the inaugural ride. After the snow and ice and wind and rain... we finally had a dry weekend, so we studied the map and planned a gentle 20-odd mile route out from Helen's to a suitable cafe stop. And, really, cafe stops don't come much better than the Eureka Cyclists Cafeé on the Wirral. This eponymous cafe has, I have no doubt, many stories to tell. I gather Chris Boardman frequented the place in his early days when he grew up on the Wirral, his team photo from his GAN days is on the wall, together with a couple of yellow jerseys. And the cafe breathes cyclists. I found myself wondering whether any non-cyclist would visit the place, but it offers such a warm welcome and good cyclists fare, just what is needed after a day out on the bike (or in our case an hour). Helen's bike rode like a dream as she put it through its paces, testing the gears, checking out the saddle and, as the light faded, testing the brand new lights we installed yesterday. The last 45 minutes became a night ride as we headed home, but it was good. I asked Helen what she though of the bike - she grinned insanely and gave me an enthusiastic thumbs-up. I think she likes it!

January 20th 2011

It's a bit like a number 53 bus. After so long waiting to get out on the bike, suddenly I find opportunities to get out come along in threes. Last week it was Thursday night with the guys, then on Sunday it was out on the club run, such a long time since I'vedone that - even if it was in the rain and cold. No matter, a thoroughly enjoyable 50 miles out to the Lofthouse Tearoom cafe at Stainton (great soup). But best of all was today's run out from Chester. The weather forecast, as usual, was hopeless and I got up to find freezing fog daring me to go out. The ground was icy too. Surely it would be folly. But no, I vowed to attempt a ride and headed gingerly out through Chester and west on the long climb up to the Horseshoe Pass and, miraculously, emerged from the fog into brilliant winter sunshine. The views of the hills and valleys were splendid, especially from the top of the pass, where the temperature, bizarrely, was at its highest (work that one out!). Having not ridden the climb from the north before I now had the prospect of the sweepinh descent into Llangollen, and rued not having brought the videocam which would have been perfect. Sadly, after Llangollen the freezing fog returned and I rode the last two hours with feet that grew steadily number and colder, I felt sure frostbite was setting in. My gloves were covered in ice, I had frost down the front of my jacket and my buff froze. I was pleased to get home, but at least it was good steady miles on the bike. And the views from the Pass made all the suffering worthwhile - just!

January 13th 2011

At last, the wait is over. After 7 very long weeks, I have been reacquainted with riding my bike - and, boy, it feels soooo good. Thursday night with the gang riding the back roads south of Carlisle, night lights on and such good craic to be had to boot. It may have been only an hour and a half, and just under 30 miles, but it was wonderful.

On a separate note, all that ice and cold weather has not done our roads any favours, with potholes the size of craters popping up all over the place. This gem can be found at the end of our road and is growing daily, making it hazardous for any vehicle let alone mere cyclists to circumnavigate. So I took a deep breath and have reported it via the helpful fillthathole website - it was remarkably easy. All we need now is for the local council to come along and repair the damage. So, if you find any large craters near you do report them - and save a cyclist!!

Footnote (January 24th) - work has started on repairing the damage.

January 9th 2011

So, here we are, over a week into 2011 and I can't remember what my bike looks like. Snow? Ice? I'm sick of it. The roads round here resemble skating rinks and, frankly, I am not prepared to risk my entire season for the sake of a 20 mile tiptoe on ice. No, it will have to wait. Helen and I had planned her inaugural bike ride for this weekend, but that too will have to wait. In the meantime, it has left me with an opportunity to think about warm-up events for my Marmotte trip. Apart from the Cheshire Cat and Mallorca (March), I have, perhaps foolishly, sent an entry form in for the Fred Whitton in May. As participation is dependent on a ballot, I guess I may not actually get to ride it, and I may yet live to regret this decision. Paul, too, has entered, so we may find ourselves side by side on the start line come May 8th.

In addition, the flight is booked to Toulouse later in May for a 4 night stay with good friends Chris and Helen at Pyractif, with the temptation to line up alongside Messrs Indurain, Merkcx et al in La Roue d'Or Pyreneene too much to resist. And most recent of all, Paul and I found ourselves unable to resist the lure of the Bealach na Ba and so will return one more time in Spetember to ride the iconic Scottish climb in the Bealach Mor sportive. So already that's 5 sportives for 2011, more than the whole of 2010 put together.

So, as we wait for winter to release its grip, I am left with the attraction of an exciting turbo session or two, and trips to the gym to reacquaint myself with the delights of the Concept 2 rowing machines (strangely addictive). Please roll on the spring!