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TT ‘SENIOR’ RACE RIDE

Loaghtan – Laxey Circus ride

TT SENIOR RACE RIDE

Riders :- Steve Q, Nikki, Seamus, Lisa, Richie, Cam and Foxdale

It has become a bit of a tradition to ride up to the Bungalow to watch the races on Senior race day.
Setting off from Strang Stores which does a Michelin 5 star rated Breakfast Bap.
Taking the road up St Luke’s which everyone was looking forward to especially with the really hot weather.

Global warming is a real thing, only 3 months ago it was cold and now it’s warm.
Straight from the off at the foot of St Luke’s Lisa had problems, first with a Cheval Fly trying to bite her…..She’s fluent now after riding in France, then she snotted on herself.

The midday sun beating down, so hot Nikki chose to wear her bra back to front to cool down.
Quilly managed to come off half way up mis judging a rut on the edge.

At the top Cam decided it was better to ride round Beinn-y-Phott as it was pointless riding higher closer to the sun just to come back down again. Seamus must have missed this decision as he was in front and set off up the hill, we all followed like sheep, Cam unhappy with this turn of events started stomping as manic as a horse counting.

Unfortunately the view at the top couldn’t be appreciated due to the feckin midges, we descended quickly riding through the fans, ruining everyone’s picnics. This made us hungry, being athletes we chose the chips, cheese and burger option.

Riding across the fence line to the Bungalow, Cam thought the TT fans looked bored with the lack of action with the bikes only achieving 150mph plus on the mountain he decided to entertain them by falling off in a gulley in front of them, like an choir in unison they could be heard ‘What a Cock’.

A ride across Clagh Ouyr to get to Windy Corner to watch the last couple of laps.
It was decided to go down Windy to seek refreshment at The Mines. On the way down Richie punctured, Nikki helped with the repair, it turned out to be similar to a Carry On film….
‘Push it in’
I’m ready for it’
‘Pump faster’
‘Is it hard’.

Then Lisa punctured ramming into Richie from behind…. Matron!!!
Axnfell was the quickest route to the Mines, even quicker if you take Richie line, just go straight through the trees.
‘A grand day out’

Pivot twentyfour12 – the one where I stupidly ignore the weather – by Ian Heald (MAD MTB Ireland)

I had signed up in the winter to take part in the Twentfour12 Torchbearer event once again – something to get me out on the bike and to keep me motivated. Last time around this gone as planned as I twisted my knee playing Lacrosse at Xmas and it took forever to heal. This time it failed as a family member unsuccessfully fought an illness over the Xmas period and I had a long time unable to get out on the bike. It didn’t help that I had also started a new job and had gone from commuting 150km a week on the bike to sitting for over 2 hours a day in the car. I was a big lad getting much bigger.

Getting fit started at the end of February, the first spin was a 3 hour suffer fest of a not particularly hilly 60km and I was fit for nothing at the end, I had to draft most of the distance hiding behind people who 6 months previously I had been on a par or faster than.

The longer working hours in the new job coupled with the massively increased commute time meant I didn’t have much available time to be with my family, never mind being able to get the same training distances in that I had last year. I knew I had to change my “training” from time & distance miles to something shorter and hopefully more effective. Spin classes, sessions on a turbo trainer in the shed and I joined a club xc race league which was an hour of dying after work on a short but interesting course with some decent features in to hone my fading skills. I even managed to cycle commute to work for 6 weeks prior to the event (125km). This coupled with a regular Sunday road club spin meant I felt pretty good – I could have done better but I knew I had enough not to embarrass myself.

Once again club mate Conor crashed at my house on the Wednesday night and we caught the early Thursday morning ferry from Rosslare to Pembroke – the venerable Mondeo Estate had died, too much rallycross (school runs) had killed the engine and suspension, the final death knell being the failing thrust release bearings – an awesome part name. It had been replaced with a much smaller, more economical but less powerful estate car. This meant we stripped right back on what we were bringing with us – no gazebo, no spare wheels, less camping items and less cycling gear – last year’s racing had shown me that the course could cope with a chunk of rain and so we brought a minimum of equipment and I planned for improving on last year’s race.

Fool.

A relatively uneventful trip to Plymouth, had to slow down a couple of times as the rain was so heavy (it forced Conor to sleep a few times) and I got to watch a speeding police car lift off the ground on a bumpy section of the Severn Bridge, trying to beat last orders at the chippy I suspect. We got to the campsite about 6pm Thursday and once again the Loughtan Loaded crew from the Isle of Man (Longest Day, Longest Ride 24-hour event organisers) had set up camp in a great spot and had kept a small chunk of space aside for ourselves and 2 other solo riders coming over from Ireland.

I had been keen to not get drowned camping this year and had dug out my old (~25 years since it was last used) 3-man Force10 tent, it’s crap for hiking as it weighs the same as a baby elephant and doesn’t offer the same amount of headspace as a modern dome tent but as a base camp for 1 person it’s perfect. 5 minutes to put up and rock solid, it’s faded orange canvas bringing back a host of good memories, then a beer was opened and Conor and I caught up with the everyone from last year.

Laugh after laugh after laugh – although not seeing anyone in a year gave me a moments pause, it’s such a comfortable group of people that time and distance means nothing. The funniest part of many laughs being Sue as she went across the course to the tents opposite to have a look at a wolf thing chained up and came back scuttered after chatting to its owner in what felt like 5 minutes. The least funny part was drunkenly Will and I challenged Ger to a combined lap challenge and we bet real money (£50 – I was leathered).

Friday was chilled and slightly hungover – a slight delay waiting for the St Johns crew to show up then I was out and around the course to see where and what was on offer on a Demo Pivot 429. The course was longer than last years, at approx. 13.2km but less technical (fun), much friendlier to a big lad like myself, instead of a savage short killer climb and lots of continued effort there was just a main big drag. All in all, I managed a ~3 km longer course with the same time and effort as last year’s hungover practice lap of 55 minutes.

The Pivot demo bike was impressive – I wanted a go on the SL but there was only the trail option available – it was equipped with gert big tyres and a Fox36 which is several grades gnarlier than I usually ride and way overbiked for twentyfour12. It had a relaxed position but rode well and when stacked against my XC bike on the next lap was way faster than I thought it rode. Very deceptive and is high on the list to replace my current bike in its SL format. The track was riding pretty well, a long splashy muddy descent meant I had to find my clear lenses or be blind but most of the fun technical descents from last year were now steady climbs apart from Cottage return. Most of this year’s descents were flowing trails through woods that promised speed.

A bit of number crunching back at base and 12 or 13 laps looked pretty doable which was in and around my bucket list 100 miles mtb spin. Excellent. The only downsides were the rain and further rain forecast but that wasn’t concerning me. I really am a clown at times.

Saturday the rain continued – so much so I went off-site to Chaplins, an Aladdin’s cave of stuff for sale and picked up some Dunlop wellies. A well worthwhile £11 spent. I still wasn’t concerned about the course after all last year it had lashed it down in the morning for 3-4 hours and the course was ok. Last year however had been bone dry for the previous week, this time the rain was incessant.

The main event started and I helped with the Pit bitching – cleaning bikes, getting bottles ready and the like. I had the same plan as last year where I was going to bed in the early evening and then up about 10 to get ready for my midnight start. Kept giving Will encouragement to keep the laps going to beat Ger until Wills bike blew up in a fireball melting the rear mech after a crash. Bets over man…. Shite.

Bike set-up was pretty much the same as last year – a carbon euro marathon machine from the 00’s (nearly a decade old now), with some modernisation; dropper post, tubeless tyres, fully adjustable full suspension and oval 1×10 gearing. Last year I had struggled with numb hands as the lock ring of the grips cut into my hands after 10 hours or so, so I had changed to Ergon grips with built in bar ends, a little chunky but much more comfy and no lock ring. Tyre choice was a “trail” orientated front for good grip and a racing semi-slick on the back because I was looking for laps. I did ponder about changing for the weather but the wet mud on the Friday practice lap allowed both tyres to cut through and give me grip so I left them as is. Because the course wasn’t going to change after 12 hours of racing. Fool.

Fuelling was to be a minimum of 750mL of high five and electrolytes every lap no matter what (I’d suffered with dehydration last year as I’m such a hot and heavy sod, so much so I had scared myself when I went for a pee), occasional Torq rhubarb and custard gels (taste so, so nice) some flapjack and occasional mouthful of Bombay mix to temper the volume of sweet things I was inhaling. I’d borrowed my wife’s camogie team bottles so I didn’t need to prepare them every 3 laps or so.

I got changed – a lot of riders had been struggling on the fast course with mud being flung into their eyes (Fellow racer Mick looked like something from a vampire movie with glowing red eyes) and had been changing kit every couple of laps. I had 3 changes only (smaller car, planning based on last years race) but had fortunately been able to buy one of the last set of mudguards on-site and attach them to my bike (they were later used as a template for a pop bottle rear guard for Gers bike which lasted the whole event). So long as I wasn’t grinding anything delicate down there with grit and grime I was planning a single change around about sunrise as trying to get cleanly out of wet and muddy gear is tricky at the best of times. A good dollop of chamois crème (I’ve moved from Assos minty arse lard to MucOff Luxury Chamois crème – it’s much better) and I was ready to roll.

Ger appeared just as I was about to set off, called me an idiot and laughed. Will was asking me to sit down and get drunk as the rain was just easing off. Forecast was ~11 hours of limited rain and I wanted to get on the course as I had come too far to give up straight away. Some last-minute course tips from Will, mainly about a pothole of doom on the river run section that I needed to be wary of.

A similar sensible prep talk from Martin as last year; tired riders, changing course and use the first lap as a sighting lap. I knew I would be slower (I’d downgraded my estimate from 12-13 laps to about 8) but thought I’d push at an unsustainable ~80% on the first lap to see how much slower I was going to be.

Straight away I was struggling for drive traction – the semi slick was not able to grip the course through the campsite in the thick mud. No panic – pick a higher gear and take it steady. Grind up the long drag and onto the proper trails, both tyres hooking up well but requiring a lot more effort with the mud. Most of the descents were slower too, it’s night time which even with my Exposure Reflex meant reduced speeds plus a little sketchy drifting through the schlomp. If I went too fast the mud went everywhere and I couldn’t see through the amber lensed glasses I had on. Cottage return was a hoot – it’s the main descent, with decent grip (on the racing line), flowing lines and probably the most tech bit on this course iteration. Then a quick dash along a fireroad to the River Run trail, first turn contained a “novelty” sheep dip that had appeared over the 12 hours of racing in the rain and as I barrelled along I pondered about this pothole that Will had…..

Oh SHIT! Wheel in, bike stopped dead and I flew 5 yards down the track, luckily into the undergrowth and not into the river. Took me a while to get myself back together to get back on the bike, nothing hurt and the bike looked ok but everything was darker than it should be. Pottered to the end of the trail and then realised that my main light was a lump of brown, cleaned the lens and I could see everything again. More snaking through the claggy campsite burning energy and then through the river crossing (which cleaned the drivechain up a bit), a bit of fluting around in the woods and then a short kicker climb up into some woods before a greased grassy descent, back past our pitstop to the start/finish.

An hour and 10 minutes. A tiring hour and 10 minutes too. No way I could keep up that effort for the 12 hours, so back to my more conservative 65% power to get 8 laps and keep grinding. Pit crew were stars – last year with the good weather I’d being pretty self-sufficient until 10am or so, just a bit of chat and it’s nice to be asked if you are ok. This year the pit crew swung into action and had the bike cleaned and oiled in the time it took me to swap bottles and check myself over after the crash.

The grassy snake through the campsite was hideous – claggy mud that sapped my energy, tyre choice wasn’t great as I needed more speed to throw the mud off but couldn’t hit that critical momentum for long enough through the trail obstacles. As I was starting at the half way point of the 24 hour races every “clean” line was gone as racers had hunted for grip and I had no choice but to eat into my reserves ploughing the same clag as everyone else, the long do-able drag became harder and harder and the course was less and less fun. Cottage return was still good but it was easier for me to run the first half of the River Run section than cycle it.

By lap 4 I had had enough – 75 minutes of drag for less than 5 minutes of fun wasn’t enough. We’d lost the bet against Ger, my bike was getting destroyed, the campfire was warm and I had loads of ale waiting. The course was quiet too, so large sections had nothing to keep you going to catch up/avoid other racers. I planned to not stop in the pits, continue through to the start/finish line and see where I was on the official timing board. 15-20 people started Torchbearer and I expected to be 12th or so – anything above 6th and I’ll keep going. Zipped past the pits to odd looks from the crew and went to check my placing…. 4th.

Bollocks.

6th and I would possibly/probably have talked myself out of continuing but not forth – a single mechanical and I’d be 3rd. I had to keep going.

Bollocks.

It all gets a bit vague from here, I remember enjoying the sunrise on the long drag and liking being able to pick better lines through the swamps as daylight returned. I remember 2 people crashing in front of me as I came up behind them on the cottage return descent (I hooned down because I was going to really enjoy that one bit of fun no matter the risk) and they incredibly politely moved from the line into the swampier muck and promptly lost it when I was happy to wait, knowing how bad off piste was. I did apologise.

I looked forward to the river crossing as it would clean the drivetrain, but I hated the campsite snakes, the bike stopped drifting under control and just slid into whatever was at the bottom of whatever incline there was. At the bottom of the Cliff climb I had to stop and clear out the drive chain. Conor and crew would check on placing and I was maintaining 4th, that was the only thing that was keeping me going. I have never got so little enjoyment out of a spin in my life. Each time I’d set off from the pits with a cleaned bike within a mile you couldn’t tell.

I stayed in the 1 set of clothes – the chamois crème working a treat and I always run hot so being wet wasn’t anything I was bothered about (I was so hot my saddle was steaming at the pits – there is a joke in there somewhere). The front braking bite point changed massively, the rear went completely and needed pumping to get any braking. The brand-new narrow-wide chainring kept dropping the chain and the mudguards were shaping the accumulated mud into what looked like fat bike tyres.

At 1220ish I crossed the finish line to loads of applause, having been congratulated all around the last lap of the course. I had managed 9 laps which is about 120km (~75miles), more than my target for last year and more than the revised target I had set 12 hours earlier but quite a chunk under what I would have been able if the course was dry (winner managed 11, there was too much of a gap for me to have ever caught 3rd place but I scared him in conversation and he went out to do an extra lap just in case, probably cursing me on every revolution of his pedals) , 5th finished only a little behind me. There is a photo of me on the finish line and I look like I’d stab anything in my way, Fortunately for Matt the compare (sp) I was so happy at finishing I gave him a warm handshake and necked the free beer. I managed 4th, mainly because half the field in Torchbearer sensibly went to bed after 2 laps – but I beat them because I didn’t and I’ll take that. In the equivalent day race, I would have been 14th of 84 (winner did 14 laps), so I’m happy with the result if not the distance achieved or the race itself.

As ever, support around the course was amazing – a real festival atmosphere even with the poor weather. The motivation station was excellent, as was the heavier music section just down the way.

We had a chilled evening after the race, Clare and Gary & kids scooted off quick to get to relatives as they continued their holiday grand tour, Mick and his dad went early enough as their ferry was from Holyhead and that’s a long way from Plymouth, they wanted to get a few hours up the road before stopping. Fair play to Huw, he didn’t stop through the night (Mick got 3rd – awesome result) supporting Mick (and the other riders too) and was a perfect gent throughout. Ger and his manager stayed in a proper hotel that night.

Ger got 8th, (2nd in Vets) he is a machine. He won the lap count bet (quite graciously too) and asked for an event top for himself and his daughter/manager rather than the £50. Nothing to do with a bump on his head from when my “elbow” sent him flying so I could take the fast line on a descent. oh no.

As I mentioned Mick got third overall and a red eyed zombie stare of death – also had the cunning trick of an incredibly bright helmet which meant in the muddy conditions you could tell who it was from miles away. Clever. Congratulations on your stunning result.

My tent had survived the monsoon quite well, I had a small leak which I suspect was from putting it up in such tall grass so I had about 5ml of water pooled on the groundsheet. Not bad for a 30 year old tent.

The bike not so much. All the brake pads are down to the metal, the bottom bracket is making a scraping noise, the headset is stiff and crying brown, front mudguard nearly worn through and derailleur jockey wheels look like ninja throwing stars. I didn’t adjust the travel on the forks so I’m hoping an oil change will be enough to get them up and running again or it’s a trip to the UK. My lovely new white grips (and older white saddle) are a shite white brown colour too. It’s in the hands of Expert Cycles being prepared for the Cooley Thriller – normally they have a ridiculously quick turnaround but I suspect they are finding mud in places where mud shouldn’t be and are laughing too much (And it’s a bank holiday weekend too tbf). Literally just been phoned by them – A lot of things have been replaced and I can pick it up this afternoon – excellent.

Conor and I headed off early Monday morning after saying our goodbyes to Will, Sue, Harry, Brian and Phyllis. We had a slight fright with a truck pulling out in front of us but all in all an uneventful trip after that. We were put right at the front of the ferry and pottered around on the trip back across the Irish Sea. I got home around half eight that night, helped Conor pack his car and then crawled into bed.

In 20/20 hindsight I had stupidly planned for improving on last year’s race despite my worse fitness and had ignored the weather. Last year I went in with low expectations and smashed them on the first lap which gave me a mental lift for the whole 12 hours. This year I had started with reasonable expectations, boosted them right up after the practice lap and then they slowly drained away on that first lap until I was knocked sideways when I went OTB, it really took the spark out of me.

I probably should have changed the rear semi-slick to a meatier one I had brought as a JIC so I could maintain my speed better, but I think anything I had tried would have struggled with the claggy conditions. My power to weight ratio is too shit to get away with ploughing through stuff like that. Maybe my IGH hardtail with narrow ice spike tyres would have been fine, I just don’t have the space to bring 2 bikes. It’s hard to compare the slight changes I made to the bike set up and my re-fuelling strategy as the race & weather conditions were very different to last year. However, I have none of the physical complaints I had last year for 80% of the distance covered, so something appeared to be working. I’m just incredibly tired and downbeat, oh and with a ton of gunk in my eyes. I managed to beat my “if everything goes tits up” target and get forth in the process so should be much happier.

I’m already planning for Round13 and an additional 24 hour solo this year so it’s not knocked all the stupid out of me.

A big thanks to the Pit Bitches – there is no way I would have been able to look after myself and bike in those conditions – Sue, Clare, Brian, Gary, Will, Conor, Huw, Phyllis – all were trojans looking after Ger, Mick and myself (once Conor and Will ended their races). Thanks to Steve and Clare for their support too, I still think Steve should have tag teamed the night laps with me.

Dedicated to Joan Sarah Withers 15th March 1917 to 31st July 2017.

LEJOG – Lands End to John O’Groats

LEJOG – Lands End to John O’Groats

Lands End

Nikki’s 40th Birthday ride, a stupid idea hatched in a pub that got out of hand

Riders :-
Nikki – The Natterer
Lamby – Shepherd (always going back to keep us together)
Gru – Always after a better route
Woody – Wind him up watch him go
Dave – Plodder
Neil – Eurocycles Professional
Pete – Lead out man
Sarah – Dark horse
Cam – Red wine connoisseur

Support :-
Caroline – Mother to Sarah, Personal Concierge
Paul – Driver, Restaurant Finder

Day 1 – Lands End to Okehampton 109 miles, 7312 ft of climbing

Arriving at Lands End the bikes were unpacked from the van, a final bit of fettling, photo shoot, black armbands given out in memory of Kate, though this was by no means a sombre occasion which was fitting, more a celebration.

Giddy and apprehensive we set off in summer gear, within 5 minutes it pissed it down, ideal conditions for the porcelain complexion of Lamby. 6 minutes in the first mechanical, Nikki thought the road was just bumpy in fact she had an egg in the tyre due to it not sitting on the rim right. Pete came to the rescue rubbing some sudocrem from his bib shorts onto the rim to get it to seat right, once Lamby’s ginger pubes were removed we were on our way (how they got there who knows though Lamby and Pete bunked together and may have double dipped).

The sun came out, motorists gave us plenty of room all was well in the world till Sarah punctured after 15 miles, luckily the Laxey/Maughold support van was on hand like the Mavic Tour car. The first 30 miles gave us false hope, Cam setting a blistering pace riding and sweating like Gary Glitters paperboy…..then the hills arrived, not steep but long draggy climbs that came around in relentless fashion. With the country lanes being narrow we soon had Cornwall in gridlock, passing near to Bodmin Moor we thought we saw the beast turns out it was Lamby having a piss in the bushes.

Going through Redruth a local 6 fingered intellect observed us stopped at the traffic lights,……
“I see you’re on your bikes then”….. Unable to come up with suitable riposte we rode on ignoring the pull of a pasty shop which had the the biggest pasty hung outside above the door, we doubted they sold it by the yard.

We soon discovered much to our amusement the Garmin GPS units have the annoying habit of updating routes just after you’ve turned the wrong way, especially at roundabouts, we soon learned to do synchronised turns altogether like dressage horses.

Three more punctures in quick succession, Sarah again Pete and I especially on the busy A30 that we had to ride on for a short while. Here you have to decide whether to risk riding near to the traffic or risk getting a puncture from the debris which included a dead badger (one for the I-Spy book of dead animals) and one of Lamby’s disco loafers.

The last 15 miles were up with a bit more up and then a steep hill to our accommodation for the night.
The weather on the first day was hot and sunny, with Lamby being of fair complexion (ginger) he suffered in the sun, on the Dulux colour chart after today’s ride ‘Prawn’.

Day 2 Okehampton to Yatton 91.3 miles, 4117ft climbing

A sunny morning greeted us, we were all eager to start apart from Woody who had wine legs from a bottle of red the night before.
We waited with anticipation as the Garmins uploaded today’s route (so we could get lost with ease again) thankfully they pointed to the right, as to the left was a feckin big hill that nearly had us in tears the day before till we turned off it.

We soon arrived at a hard climb that went on for ages round every bend it carried on, it finally ended as we arrived at the village of Cadbury…very disappointing village consisting of a house and a hay bale. The next two villages ‘Bow’ and ‘Copplestone’ were straight from Midsomer Murders, quaint cottages with thatched roofs and bent and twisted walls, but not as twisted as a Woody’s mind reminiscing about George Michael cottaging.

Coming out of Crediton (a bustling market town similar to Foxdale) the only crash of the whole trip happened, Gru was taken out by Sarah….she says she innocently ran it to back of him and he couldn’t get unclipped (we think it was because Gru tried to beat her up a hill and Sarah was having none of it) Gru was rolling around in some pain like a turtle on its back, we quickly rushed to Sarah’s aid who was in danger of cracking a rib laughing so hard, seriousness of the collision became apparent Sarah had broken a nail.

It was decided to have a spot of lunch after the excitement, especially as Cam was peckish due to continually attacking at the front of the Peloton. Unfortunately there was a mile marker on the map making it hard to make out if it was a ‘W’ or a ‘H’. It was decided by majority to stop at Walberton, only Nikki thought it was a ‘H’. After about 5 miles we approached the village of Halberton, Nikki looking quite smug. Sadly for Cam there’s more going on in Grenaby than Halberton so it was on to the next place Wellington, the extra miles were well worth it, stopping at the ‘Skylark’ pub which did first class pub grub. Pete misunderstood the question the barman asked, I apologised to the barman stating that he had special needs, realising halfway through the explanation the barman had special needs…..Doh!

Whilst eating we were entertained by Gru being given a lesson on how to stretch and do yoga, he’s now supple and lithe not too dissimilar to an arthritic wildebeest.
We got chatting to a tandem couple doing JOGLE for bristol Childrens Hospital they hated their bike with every sinew, their pain was nearly over.

The next incident of note Cam punctured mainly due to him running an 8 year tyre with just canvas left. The childish ones amongst the group (Nikki, Sarah and Woody) discovered what fun could be had with a sticky prickly leaf, feck it hurts….”look it even pricks through Lycra” right on my arse as I was trying to have a drink.

Luckily we were close to tonight’s stop a luxury hotel at Yatton, the rest of the leg was incident free apart from Roxanne (Sarah) who likes a red light she never stops for them, just missing a bus. I went through on red after her purely to tell her the light was on red…..I never knew bus horns were so loud.

At the hotel/pub evening meal Caroline let slip that Neil in his wisdom mistook a YHA green pillow case from the previous nights stop for his own green t shirt, packed it and tried to wear it.

Taking advantage of having a bath Nikki and I had a freezing cold bath though not together (Separate rooms) as that would be wrong and unfair on Woody as he would get the plug end. They do help the legs recover.
Lamby is now Post Box red on the Dulux colour chart.

Day 3 Yatton – Coalport 118.5 Miles 6,148 ft climbing

Once we had lathered Lamby in factor 2000 and he put his Lycra burkha on we set off, today was supposed to be an easy pace….the first ten miles was more like a time trial averaging a steady 25mph with Cam attacking from the off then slowing then attacking again…..I’d love to see Cam at the velodrome it would be chaos.

About 30 miles in first refreshment stop Caroline ready with bananas looking resplendent in purple think it was her tribute to Prince. Caroline was quickly becoming my personal banana peeler and bag carrier, Paul was becoming the Kwikfit fitter for Gru and Sarah (Roxanne) getting punctures repaired and replacement wheels ready.

Once on the cycle paths the pace slowed to a sociable pace (the cycle paths are good for avoiding traffic but are slow and twisty and easy to take a wrong turn…..the ones in Somerset work well though).

Pootling along, birds singing sun shining what could go wrong only Gru could spoil the moment, a wasp getting inside his sunglasses with amusing consequences.
Going over the first high bridge of the trip over the River Avon Lamby shit Woody up by braking and screaming hard behind him, which would turn out to be the last time Woody was to be regular before Scotland.

A diversion sign due to roadworks could have got us easily lost, but Cam charmed the workmen with his cheeky smile and turned ankle, Cam has a reputation in Somerset after a previous Loaghtan Loaded Tour he’s still recognised by both sexes.

Taking advantage of a workmans portaloo positioned at temporary traffic lights Pete went for a pee only to quickly come out as you could only use it with a bio hazard suit on, Pete, Neil and Gru all had a pee on the roadside unaware of the attractive young lady now stopped at the temporary red light.

Next up was the River Severn road bridge (Lisa our coach and training guru had done this earlier with the children centres LEJOG ride and discovered she has a phobia of perfectly safe structures) going across it was quite exhilarating at just under a mile long we stopped for the obligatory photos at the middle, it also gave us buzz as we were now heading north.

Once off the bridge we were in the land of the consonant ‘Wales’, silly words, big hills, winding lanes, a dream for the local motorcyclists, a nightmare for us despite being used to the TT, one came past us on one wheel, sounded good and loud as it opened up similar to Pete in the morning though not as loud, Pete has amazing flatulence, able to hold a note similar to the Lurpak trombone man.

Stopping for Lunch at ‘The Lion’ Trellech, the bar lady was on the ball and a good laugh, the young bar lad bringing the meals out was close to melt down, constantly getting the orders wrong.

Being in the zone and the LEJOG bubble conversation always revolved around the route/recovery/performance and marginal gains………

……….’Did you know the Armadillos are the only other animal that can get Leprosy’ one of Woody’s gems.

After lunch a few more winding lanes till we got on the A40 which was a good climb that we all managed with relative ease….must be getting use to this malarkey.
Around Hereford we came across the most awful red Tarmac that was really draggy. Next place to get lost was Ludlow till Paul found a short cut to the YHA, which sadly was mainly up hill.

Later on Cam asked two local ladies for directions if was only a few miles further on we realised Cam was missing, he has now moved his operations into the next county, he eventually caught up…..I’m sure the rash will clear up in time.

Towards the end of todays leg Nikkis feet swelled up think it was Cams viagra supply getting mixed up with Nikkis Co-Codamol.
Woody was causing concern with a troublesome Ankle injury Nikkis Co-Codimal came to the rescue though he was warned it could leave him bunged.
Finally arriving at Coalport YHA tired but still chipper, Paul got pizzas for us while we helped Gru log on to the Wi-Fi….He struggles with technology.
Lamby is now Manx Flag red on the Dulux colour chart.

Comfort Break

Day 4 Coalport – Arnside 140 miles, 4,281 ft climbing

A sunny morning today was going to be a hot one. After getting the bikes out from the overnight storage we then helped an Australian get her bike out, she was doing a solo tour of England, Wales and Ireland. After chatting for 5 minutes with her I can’t think why she was single, maybe it was because she had no social skills and was obnoxious.

Within seconds of departing we had a feckin big hill straight away which we all loved. After about two miles we were lost, luckily an elderly gentleman on a bike led us to the entrance of the concealed cycle path we were looking for. Once on this path it was fairly straightforward only taking one wrong turn that led to a bit of cyclocross.

Going through the village of Lilleshall Lamby and Pete got an offer that they may have taken up if we weren’t pressed for time. An elderly church goer was getting out of her car showing a lot of leg, once out of the car she deliberately raised her skirt to flash a bit more, she was about to take her teeth out for some action when the church bell rang for mass.

Further on another road closed sign, we decided to gamble as the diversion would have added miles, the surface was quite rough. Neil decided to use the other side of the road as it was a smoother surface….’wouldn’t it be funny if traffic was still allowed to come the opposite way….in unison we all shouted car coming’, just as one actually did.

Things took a strange turn at the next food stop. Woody was having trouble with saddle soreness, most would use chafe cream or double pad up, not Woody. There was some plumbers pipe insulation used to protect the bike frames in the van Woody put a length of this down his Bib shorts, swearing it worked a treat, he’s going to take it in Dragons Den for a 20% stake you can invest ‘LAG-ASS’, soon to be seen in the Tour de France, yellow pipe lagging for the leader.

Dinner was sat at the roadside across from a petrol station, the lady working there was amazed we stopped there as a few hundred yards down the road was a scenic picture area. The support crew had done us proud again with a good selection of food, savouries seem to be the flavour of the day as well as Cats lemon drizzle cake.

Heads turned going through Merseyside, pedestrians could be heard saying “did that man have a pipe in his arse”. Warrington was a bit of a nightmare mainly due to the large volume of traffic, Nikki got some dogshit on her shoe, Caroline went beyond the call of duty and cleaned it off for her…..and I thought I was precious. Once through Warrington the roads got better, the birds seemed happier the grass greener, it could only mean one thing we were in Lancashire, home of the Parch pea, The Butter Pie, Black pudding and Craig Hindle.

I led the group through Preston my home town knowing a few short cuts, local knowledge goes a long way going through towns as we discovered later.
There were two plans for todays stage;
1. To stop at Garstang for tea, drive to the nights accommodation drive back to Garstang in the morning to start again, this would have meant loading all the bikes in the van.
2. Stop for tea at Garstang and ride another 30 miles to the accommodation.

We decided on option 3 which wasn’t even an option….ride straight through to Arnside and get tea there. This proved the correct option, despite getting a bit lost, a local workman ripped a page out of his A to Z atlas to help us ( Lancashire one of the friendliest places) About 20 minutes before the end the heavens opened, horizontal rain and another really steep hill to get to the YHA, we arrived drenched but still in good humour, happy in the knowledge that if we had stopped at Garstang we would have had at least two hours riding in torrential rain…..’Woody arrived happier more to do with a pipe stuck down his bib shorts…..I worry about that boy’.

The pipe lagging is just about understandable whilst riding but there was no need to have it down there in the evening, though he did get a bigger portion from the young waitress.

A long day at 140 miles rounded off with great meal at a seaside Thai restaurant ‘Gado Gado’ organised by Paul

Condition of Lamby with it getting cooler the further north we get he’s improved….Colour Peppa Pig.

Day 5 Arnside – Gretna Green 77.9 miles, 3.831 ft climbing

A short one today due to yesterday’s effort. Once Woody had his lagging pipe in place and took his Co-codamol to ease his ankle pain though not his movements we were off.

Conditions were a little cooler but we knew it was going to get warm pretty soon as there was a 1 in 7 climb to do virtually straight away. A strange rumbling could be heard at first, we thought it was some farm machinery turns out it was Gru, he enjoyed his breakfast so much he wanted to see it again throwing it up.

Just before Kendal a confused motorist came round the roundabout the wrong way which makes you question if you are going the right way. Stopping in Kendal at the Evans bike shop as Woody needed some new cleats to replace the Shimano £3.99 fakes he purchased from Ebay. He was then escorted from the shop by the sales assistant, after he bent down baring his arse asking “have you any pipe lagging like this”…….”this time next year I’ll be a millionaire”.

Next came the Shap climb which wasn’t as bad as we thought it would be. At the top was the van which we hadn’t seen for a while, no wonder Caroline and Paul had bought the entire contents of the savoury section of the local supermarket, can’t help thinking TEAM SKY are missing a treat, Scotch Eggs and Sausage rolls give you that marginal gain.

At Penrith Nikki arranged to meet two friends Claire and Ted for a brew. Woody was immediately infatuated with a soft touch of tender hands over his sore ankle and caressing his calf he was in ecstasy…..Ted being a Physio had Woody like new, the transformation was Lazarus like…..Woody pushed his luck “can you do anything about this” showing Ted the pipe coming out of his arse.

The road from Penrith to Carlisle was just like a massive switch back, big rollers but into a headwind. Going through Carlisle was pretty straight forward till we hit a massive roundabout where we got separated. Nikki and Pete went one way while the rest of us discussed our options. I saw one of those brown tourist signs directing you to Gretna Green, our destination and set off whilst the rest waited…..I soon returned.
MeIt’s this way there’s a sign
SarahWhy have you come back?
Me sheepishlyNo reason
SarahI thought it was that way?
MeIt says Garden Centre not Gretna Green, without my glasses very similar
I could hear Nikki from 4 miles away “Knob

Once the right way was decided after getting directions from a garage mechanic we soon took a wrong turn again.
Sarah was quite smug “I told you it wasn’t that way, you wouldn’t listen”
Gru from his book of Gruisms “Even a blind chicken finds the food”.
We soon saw a great sight ‘WELCOME TO SCOTLAND’
Arriving unloading the van I discovered that road cleats and the metal step on the van don’t go together, slipping arse over tit, cutting my hand quite badly and banging my shin. Luckily only Sarah and Nikki saw the incident, once they stopped laughing they treated my wounds before telling the rest of the crew…sniggering.

Once in the hotel after another cold bath, I was treated to a surprise birthday party with cake, candles and pressies…….I have a great set of mates
The staff at Hazeldene Hotel, Gretna Green were superb and couldn’t do enough for you.

Welcome to Scotland

Day 6 Gretna Green – Perth 137.5 miles 5.197ft climbing (Gru’s day)

Before leaving today Neil got searched to make sure nothing was taken from the hotel.
Once on our way we were making good time, Cam again regularly attacking from the front before reigning himself in.

Unfortunately part of the road had just been re-chipped, speed limit 20mph for traffic, as the the traffic (mainly lorries) went past at 50 mph spitting chips at us and with the headwind creating a dust cloud…..nobody noticed the signs Gru was like a kettle coming to the boil.
At the next roundabout unsure of which way Gru led the way…….
……..it may be sleep depravation or tiredness in the saddle but what happened next was quite surreal.

Gru taking a turning off the roundabout was followed by a car flashing its indicators and honking its horn, clearly trying to tell us we were going the wrong way, towards the motorway…..

Gru shouting at the driver, “do we look like feckin idiots” (actually yes).
The car slammed to a halt in front of us the driver getting out shouting “what did you say feckin idiots”
Gru ” You’re the Twat in the middle of the road”.
Luckily the angry Scotsman drove off avoiding a diplomatic incident between the Celtic nations.

Analysing the situation at the next snack break. We explained to Gru that the man was trying to save our live’s and you called him a ‘feckin twat’ for doing this. Gru was still spitting feathers while we all pissed ourselves.
Normal service resumed and we carried on our merry way.

The support van did us proud again with a selection of savouries Pies, Pasties and Sausage rolls, Cam wanted the toilet and went to a nearby petrol station while we tucked in to the food like vultures on a fresh kill.
Caroline “Save some for Cam”
Gru “You know what they say, he who goes for a shit, eats mars bars”.

The road ahead had road closed and diversion signs, we gambled and ignored them which turned out to be great as we had the road virtually to ourselves for about 20 miles.
Gru punctured again which was probably Karma, whilst waiting, Me,Nikki, Lamby and Sarah made a great discovery, road side crash barriers are really comfy to sit on especially after 6 days in the saddle. On our way again taking in the scenery and the native wildlife…..’was that an Emu’ on closer inspection we had cycled past an Emu and Llama farm.

Reaching Livingston unsure of which turn to take at a busy roundabout with a modern art sculpture we found the cycle paths which turned out to be a feckin nightmare turning every 30 yards. After about 4 miles we had had enough of the cycle paths and went back on the main road, nobody said anything at first…either that modern art sculpture is very popular or we are back at the roundabout…..it was the same roundabout then it started raining….feckin marvellous.

We hit Edinburgh just in time for rush hour trying to navigate our way to the Forth Road Bridge luckily a local cyclist kindly showed us the way.Once across the roads quietened as we headed for Perth. We were resigned to it being a late finish due to Livingston/ Edinburgh traffic and Gru’s 8th puncture. The descent just before Perth was Tour de France standard, sweeping turns in a deep tree covered gorge that went on for about 3 miles towards the end we were worried there must be a climb coming up to have dropped so much, luckily it never came a fairly flat ride to our accommodation.

The accommodation for the night was luxury, our own en-suite rooms in the halls of residence at the university, doubles as a YHA during holidays. The support team did us proud again getting chips and curry for us all. The curry worked a treat with Woody at last there was movement, like a father at his first born Woody looked proud…..Hats off to Sottish water excellent plumbing.

Sitting on a Barrier

Day 7 Penrith – Aviemore 87 miles 3,099ft Climbing

Breakfast was instant Porridge something that Chef Neil struggled to make…’Stir until thick’, was lost in translation to get someone ‘ Must be Thick to stir it’.
The early morning sun was deceiving as the temperature dropped soon after starting. This turned out to be the only cold day of LEJOG, we were on a road that we seemed to have all to ourselves till the peace was shattered, not by Pete and Grus incredible farting talents, but by two RAF jets that came down really low just like Top Gun. Sadly there was no food drop, it perked us up till somebody said “They’re probably at John O’Groats now we still had 300 miles”.

Brunch was alfresco at the White Van cafe savouries, wagon wheels and bananas, just outside the grounds of Dunkeld House Hotel the contrast couldn’t be greater.
We rode through the grounds riding past at least 800 deer like the Serangeti, Lamby looked the other way and missed them all. The cycle path was more suited to cyclocross bikes than road, we soon decided to go on the A9 as it looked quiet. As soon as we got on it it turned into the M25, Sarah had a melt down when a wagon came close luckily we weren’t on it for long coming off at Pitlochry. Caroline was on hand to give us all a hug Sarah got two. At Pitlochry we took advantage of a cafe with a bike shop next to it, a few of us purchasing warmer clothes due to the inclement weather coming in. We met Sue Mc Nulty at the cafe for a catch up, Woody and Gru had a massage from Nikki, Woody screaming like new born baby.

Leaving Pitlochry the weather turned, heavy rain and cold, Lamby was now causing some concern as he was in some pain. We took turns to take the piss and cajole him along. The cycle path we were on was the old ‘A’ road now disused, this gave Lamby chance to do some stretches on the Tarmac while we gathered all the pain killers we had and sold them to Lamby, market forces at its best.

We thought Woody had taken too many pills “These coloured glasses I have make my bike bigger”, taking them on and off as he rode, “big bike, little bike, big bike, little bike”.

A little further along the pristine wide cycle path Neil nearly came off mounting the grass verge 5ft away at the side, we can only assume he had a bit of a nanny nap. The cycle path deteriorated to narrow fire track, not much hope for Neil. The firetrack would have been great on a mountain bike a bit like a smoother Glion Gil, Woody liked it so much he let out some sort of whoop, similar to a Hyena in heat. Sarah got a puncture just as the rain came down heavier, me, Woody, Pete and Nikki sheltered under a low bridge waiting for the repair to be done. This gave us chance to try on Woody’s magic glasses, they do make things bigger……Nikki asked to borrow them later on.

The support team found a cafe further on a proper greasy spoon but it was like a 5 star Michelin given the rainy conditions…..’Strange that I was asked an I eating in or out’. It’s important to eat healthy when doing LEJOG, chips, cheese and hot chocolate was the order of the day.

Donning our waterproofs and warm clothes we set off again in the awful conditions, Woody looked like Franz Klammer, The support team were sent on ahead to Aviemore to be personal shoppers to see if they could buy warmer clothes as the forecast was the same for tomorrow. Pete and I needed a jacket, Sarah gloves and Cam long silk gloves and a kimono,I worry about that boy……with this in mind you would have thought you’d have your phone handy to receive news……Not Cam who attacked again from the front with his phone turned off. Luckily Aviemore was well sign posted saw couldn’t get lost.

Lamby was now struggling and was feeling guilty about slowing us up……We told told him to shut the feck up, it was like a scene from a U.S. Vietnam film ….’we leave no one behind, even a ginger cripple’.

Arriving at the YHA we were soaked through and cold, but still chipper.
A deer ran in front of Nikki on today’s leg but no one else saw it therefore it never happened.

Woody

Day 8 Aviemore – Lairg 94.7 miles, 4,677 ft climbing

At this YHA the couples stayed in one dorm whilst Me, Cam, Woody, Paul and Pete had another. We would be staying at this YHA in two days time on the way back, we left our room in pristine condition……

Sadly Lamby was unable to continue, we left him with a service revolver and whisky, he took the easier option to help the support crew.
The forecast wasn’t great we were going to get wet again but at least it was warm today. The rain started virtually straight away on the first climb, the alphabet game is always a good pick-me-up, the topic was bands the letter changing every mile double points for the same letter ‘Franz Ferdinand = 2pts and the shout BOOM!, with the group spread out sometimes you couldn’t hear the band shouted out or you’d forget the band had been shouted out already.

The game helps with the pace as every body wants to hear what band has gone, even this fame gets competitive it all kicked off with the letter ‘S’…..all of us had Shakin Stevens at some time.

“Feckin Goldfish” already gone was the regular shout…….
……Nikki blew us away with ‘Sea Sick Steve’ BOOM,BOOM,BOOM!
Continuing through the quiet lanes we passed a tourist attraction…
“What do you think they are Woody?” I asked
“There those are feckin feck feckin feck things that feckers get feckin put in when they’re feckin dead those are. The feckin things you know what they are, feckin burial mounds that’s it” Woody got sacked as a tour guide for Manx National Heritage can’t think why ‘it’s just a feckin big wheel’.

As we came into Inverness the rain relented, as usual as soon as we hit a built up area we got lost. If all else fails ask a local…..Nikki chose to ask a foreign looking chappie in an Italian football shirt, think she just fancied him, luckily we saw a cycle path sign.

Whoever designed this cycle path through a shopping area has never rode a bike. A steep descent on granite sets that were wet, the slowest I’ve gone on a road bike downhill. Mums with prams, OAP’s with shopping trolleys were going quicker, a bit disappointed with Inverness bit of a shithole.

Another long bridge over the Beauly Firth, once over it dinner time, the team found a superb restaurant Kessock Hotel, the food was excellent, I changed my order to avoid a row with Nikki and Sarah, Tagliatelle Meatballs only two left, knowing how these two ladies can turn it wasn’t worth it.

On our way again on another cycle path that ran parallel to the A9 all the way to Dingwall, a biggish climb but with a good descent. Gru threw his helmet off halfway down Woody just avoiding it…..a wasp had stung him, we tried to show concern but couldn’t stop laughing.

Next a really big climb but the view at the top was worth the effort overlooking Domoch Firth, quite breathtaking considering I have great views living in Foxdale it is high praise. Woody thought he saw Loch Ness it turned out to be a worm….he had his magic glasses on.

The descent down was about a mile, just one more bridge a small one that was impossible to ride, metal grate that was slippy. A few more rollers and we were at Lairg.
Our accommodation was at Durness about a two hour drive through stunning countryside, even saw a majestic stag, by chance we came across a B&B that did evening meals, again the food was great, the stag must have wetted Woody’s taste buds he had the venison curry, …….. eleven of us turning up ruined a romantic couples dinner who soon departed.

On the way back to the van the legendary Scottish midges attacked we nearly lost Woody like a scene from 28 Days Later he was attacked again and again. Arriving late (11 o’clock) at the YHA other guests already in their bunks Pete gave them a traditional Manx greeting….A real rasper from the top drawer.

Day 9 Lairg – John O’Groats 88.2 miles 4,225 ft climbing

The last day and an early start up at 5:30 as we had to drive back to Lairg to start where we left off. A change of route due to the strong/gales that were forecast, now going up the East coast which should shelter us a bit more.

Gru’s bowels weren’t right but ‘cycling settles your shit’ another Truism.

Dressed for wet weather we were soon de-robing after the first climb as the sun was out, after the climb a descent that had us all smiling 10 miles of hardly pedalling passing some massive wild goats that looked like mammoths. At the end of it the white van was waiting…..Whoop Whoop was the familiar cry from Sarah…..The amount of shite that you eat is incredible… Typical snack stop, Pork pie, Cheese & onion roll, Viscount biscuit, Pringles and a Snowball cake…..no wonder Pete and Gru farted their way through Scotland even Thunderpants (Neil) was struggling to match their commitment.

Onto the A9 (a sign 76 miles to John O’Groats perked us up) was quiet as we were that far up the only real next town is Wick. Considering this was the ninth day we were setting a good pace quickly rattling the miles off, the next climb was probably the steepest of LEJOG but still enjoyable. The wind started to pick up 40mph side gusts which was quite scary especially going down a steep hill that had a run off lane for lorries, over an exposed bridge, I shit myself as a caravan got a bad side wobble in front of me.

The next stop was Latheron, Sarah needed a hug from Caroline as she had a scare with the strong wind, Gru needed a hug as well he had a scare with the wind nearly following through.

Gru “I think we should have stuck to the original route”…… Nikki gave him one of her death stares that Lamby knows all about, it can turn milk from twenty yards away
Caroline joined us and led out for the last 35 miles, John O’Groats is signposted regularly with different mileage distances then, we seemed to be 16 miles away far ages. Finally the sign for Welcome to John O’Groats, we waited so we all rode in together, riding to the John O’ Groats signpost for the obligatory photos……Lands End 874 miles, our route was 950ish miles.

As soon as the photo call was done it was off to the tat shop for fridge magnets. Then bikes dismantled and packed away for the drive back to Aviemore.

John O'Groats

Arriving at Aviemore YHA the girls checked in first choosing the room that we had previously, we ended up with theirs…..we left ours in good condition, theirs had the bunk bed dropping to bits, fan in toilet broken, no handle on the toilet door…..we came to the conclusion Gru had been in the toilet next person panicked snapping the handle off trying to escape.

LEJOG Epilogue

A massive thanks to Paul and Caroline our amazing support crew we couldn’t have done it without them, we made it hard for them at times by taking different routes but they still managed to find us.

A big thanks to Nikki who arranged the accommodation and who’s idea it was (keep it to yourself next time) and a big thanks to Neil for planning the route.

Commiserations to Lamby for not finishing due to injury, probably the fittest one and would have easily managed it. Don’t be to hard on yourself where here to do that.

I reckon there must be someone doing the LEJOG or JOGLE (or LEA in Lamb’s case) every day in the summer months, all willing to offer advice and stories as we met them, you meet lots of strangers willing to help you, from the builder who ripped a page out of his A to Z for us, to the old lady that offered Cam the use of her kitchen to mend a puncture and get a drink (he’s like a magnet).

‘A really enjoyable experience with a great set of people’.