I have now signed up for NTL broadband at home. My email address is
andygolborne(at)ntlworld.com
Julia - if you are still reading this from NZ then please get in touch again!
My MS Messenger ID is
andygolborne(at)hotmail.co.uk
Monday, July 31, 2006
The Salford Triathlon
So, I did it. And it was ace.
Here's my result
Position: 235 Category position: 53
No 367 Golborne Andrew, Male M40-49
Swim: 0:35:55
Transition 1 : 0:00:32
Bike: 1:13:10
Transition 2: 02:54
Run: 0:51:11
Total 2:43:41
Under 2:45 is ace. I think so anyhow as before the start I would have been pleased to get under 3 hours.
At best I was thinking 40 minutes for the swim, 1hr 15mins for the cycle and anything up to an hour for the run, plus the transitions - say 5 minutes each. Going into the run and the end of all this was unknown territory. In fact most of it was unknown territory! So looking at the split times I think I did everything about as good as I thought I could do. Still only 53rd though which I am amazed to find myself a bit annoyed about! Seeing as I did so well by my own standards it seems that all of a sudden I have become rather competitive about my position. I’ll aim for 2hrs 30 next time!
Anyhow, there were lots of nice folk in the transition around me before the start and the guy next to me was offering sound advice and helped me zip up the wet suit etc. Top chap. I’d also had a good look around the day before, including a ride round most of the bike course. Consequently I did actually feel pretty relaxed by the time we were called to the dockside for the swim.The swim: Tell you what - I was right about not doing that the second practice trip to the lake as I was fine in the end. No real nerves amazingly. We all got in, jumping off the low pontoon and it was good to get a feel of being in there for a few minutes before the off. The water was warm enough so you didn't actually notice it - the elite groups didn't bother with wet suits. And it was very clean too. Lots of chatting while we were floating about and nice that everyone wished everyone around them 'good 'luck' as we were about to go. Well, they did where I was floating at least.
Here we go then … They got us behind the 'line', did a countdown and away we went. I didn't get into the same state as I had done in the lake at all and managed to keep my breathing under control. It was all a bit frantic and I did faff for about quarter of a lap, getting my head together and finding some open water of my own where I wasn't being swam on, or swimming on top of anyone else. It was incredibly difficult to see where I was going and I had one float on my back and get calmed session not long after the start but quickly got going again. After the first turn I settled down properly and actually enjoyed it, just plodding along trying to concentrate on my stroke. The second of the two laps was easier as I'd picked out landmarks along the dock side and so roughly knew where I was. There was a large bridge right across about two thirds of the was down which was a good marker to get set for the turn at the end, and at the other there was the Lowry buildings. There were also huge inflatable buoys right round the inside of the turns so navigation was Ok there, even if it did get a bit crowded, but the straight bits were easy and pretty soon I was on the last straight towards the transition. At the end I was a bit all over the place looking up to find the exit, but there were friendly marshalls guiding us in and offering advice about when to stop swimming and start staggering out of the water.
I was wobbly as hell coming out of the water, and weaved my way to the transition, but did manage to get my wet suit off down to my waist as I ran no problem which was satisfying. It seemed a long way to my bike though.Once there it was do that alternate foot stamp down on the wet suit thing to get it off your legs and feet ... a big drink and a squeeze a gel bar down. Get socks, shoes and hat on, unrack bike and then leg it to the mounting point ... All pretty smooth and once on the bike I found I was really giving it plenty, mainly as I was happy to have done the swim!
The bike time I was chuffed about as I averaged 20+ mph for 25 miles and there were a lot of sharp bends on the 8 lap course. It felt good and I enjoyed it. There was one big long drag of a hill which was into what breeze there was which was killing off people - I did lots of passing on that bit. I indulged in target orientated cycling: seeing people ahead and estimating how long it would take to get past them. This kept me amused for an hour anyhow, as I have to admit did the fit girls in swimsuits who were now with us, having started half an hour earlier. The mountain bike corners noticeably better than the tri bikes that most of the others were using so I was just lashing round the bends and slingshotting it past people in doing so. Great fun. There was one particular corner on the fastest bit of the course with furniture positioned awkwardly but I found after lap two that if I took a really wide line into it I could just get round at full tilt whereas loads of people were braking hard and losing all their hard earned momentum. As I said – there were a few things which kept me amused around my eight laps.
Transition 2: It again seemed a long way to the back of the transition area running with my bike after the dismount. Rack the bike and just the shoe change this time, and I knocked back another gel feed thing and some fluid, just as I'd done in the first transition. The start for the run timing was a good few hundred metres away by the Lowry, hence T2 being seemingly a lot longer than T1.
The run: Christ my legs felt like jelly coming out of transition, so I plodded - as I had no choice. The up and over the Lowry bridge at the start was just plain painful and I was a bit worried, but soon settled down into a decent rhythm. I was just not sure though how much I had left in the tank and didn't want to do too much and cramp up. Plus I had indigestion from that stupid gel bar thing as it would not go down. It felt like hard work, seemed to drag on and I didn't really manage to relax until the fourth and final lap - knowing that the end was in site. I could see my time too at the end of each lap by the finish line. I seemed to be doing OK which was a boost. The last bit on the last lap eventually came round and that was the up and over the footbridge and down to the front of the Lowry, only to go straight through the finish this time. The reception was tea and medals. Well, just medals. Alasdair Campbell finished just after me by the way. There were a few celebs out on the running course including several of the Emmerdale cast and by the time I finished the sprint and the relay races were on the course. Consequently there were loads of people round the finish arena which was good – I did feel I got a reception at least, even if there was no one there shouting for me in particular… maybe next time. Then it was a wander down to the transition through the crowds, absolutely made up that I'd actually done the thing. Had a chat again with the guys who were near me, we said our goodbuys, packed up and I walked, stiff legged, back to the car to pack up for the drive home. Job done. Now, when's the next one...?
Here's my result
Position: 235 Category position: 53
No 367 Golborne Andrew, Male M40-49
Swim: 0:35:55
Transition 1 : 0:00:32
Bike: 1:13:10
Transition 2: 02:54
Run: 0:51:11
Total 2:43:41
Under 2:45 is ace. I think so anyhow as before the start I would have been pleased to get under 3 hours.
At best I was thinking 40 minutes for the swim, 1hr 15mins for the cycle and anything up to an hour for the run, plus the transitions - say 5 minutes each. Going into the run and the end of all this was unknown territory. In fact most of it was unknown territory! So looking at the split times I think I did everything about as good as I thought I could do. Still only 53rd though which I am amazed to find myself a bit annoyed about! Seeing as I did so well by my own standards it seems that all of a sudden I have become rather competitive about my position. I’ll aim for 2hrs 30 next time!
Anyhow, there were lots of nice folk in the transition around me before the start and the guy next to me was offering sound advice and helped me zip up the wet suit etc. Top chap. I’d also had a good look around the day before, including a ride round most of the bike course. Consequently I did actually feel pretty relaxed by the time we were called to the dockside for the swim.The swim: Tell you what - I was right about not doing that the second practice trip to the lake as I was fine in the end. No real nerves amazingly. We all got in, jumping off the low pontoon and it was good to get a feel of being in there for a few minutes before the off. The water was warm enough so you didn't actually notice it - the elite groups didn't bother with wet suits. And it was very clean too. Lots of chatting while we were floating about and nice that everyone wished everyone around them 'good 'luck' as we were about to go. Well, they did where I was floating at least.
Here we go then … They got us behind the 'line', did a countdown and away we went. I didn't get into the same state as I had done in the lake at all and managed to keep my breathing under control. It was all a bit frantic and I did faff for about quarter of a lap, getting my head together and finding some open water of my own where I wasn't being swam on, or swimming on top of anyone else. It was incredibly difficult to see where I was going and I had one float on my back and get calmed session not long after the start but quickly got going again. After the first turn I settled down properly and actually enjoyed it, just plodding along trying to concentrate on my stroke. The second of the two laps was easier as I'd picked out landmarks along the dock side and so roughly knew where I was. There was a large bridge right across about two thirds of the was down which was a good marker to get set for the turn at the end, and at the other there was the Lowry buildings. There were also huge inflatable buoys right round the inside of the turns so navigation was Ok there, even if it did get a bit crowded, but the straight bits were easy and pretty soon I was on the last straight towards the transition. At the end I was a bit all over the place looking up to find the exit, but there were friendly marshalls guiding us in and offering advice about when to stop swimming and start staggering out of the water.
I was wobbly as hell coming out of the water, and weaved my way to the transition, but did manage to get my wet suit off down to my waist as I ran no problem which was satisfying. It seemed a long way to my bike though.Once there it was do that alternate foot stamp down on the wet suit thing to get it off your legs and feet ... a big drink and a squeeze a gel bar down. Get socks, shoes and hat on, unrack bike and then leg it to the mounting point ... All pretty smooth and once on the bike I found I was really giving it plenty, mainly as I was happy to have done the swim!
The bike time I was chuffed about as I averaged 20+ mph for 25 miles and there were a lot of sharp bends on the 8 lap course. It felt good and I enjoyed it. There was one big long drag of a hill which was into what breeze there was which was killing off people - I did lots of passing on that bit. I indulged in target orientated cycling: seeing people ahead and estimating how long it would take to get past them. This kept me amused for an hour anyhow, as I have to admit did the fit girls in swimsuits who were now with us, having started half an hour earlier. The mountain bike corners noticeably better than the tri bikes that most of the others were using so I was just lashing round the bends and slingshotting it past people in doing so. Great fun. There was one particular corner on the fastest bit of the course with furniture positioned awkwardly but I found after lap two that if I took a really wide line into it I could just get round at full tilt whereas loads of people were braking hard and losing all their hard earned momentum. As I said – there were a few things which kept me amused around my eight laps.
Transition 2: It again seemed a long way to the back of the transition area running with my bike after the dismount. Rack the bike and just the shoe change this time, and I knocked back another gel feed thing and some fluid, just as I'd done in the first transition. The start for the run timing was a good few hundred metres away by the Lowry, hence T2 being seemingly a lot longer than T1.
The run: Christ my legs felt like jelly coming out of transition, so I plodded - as I had no choice. The up and over the Lowry bridge at the start was just plain painful and I was a bit worried, but soon settled down into a decent rhythm. I was just not sure though how much I had left in the tank and didn't want to do too much and cramp up. Plus I had indigestion from that stupid gel bar thing as it would not go down. It felt like hard work, seemed to drag on and I didn't really manage to relax until the fourth and final lap - knowing that the end was in site. I could see my time too at the end of each lap by the finish line. I seemed to be doing OK which was a boost. The last bit on the last lap eventually came round and that was the up and over the footbridge and down to the front of the Lowry, only to go straight through the finish this time. The reception was tea and medals. Well, just medals. Alasdair Campbell finished just after me by the way. There were a few celebs out on the running course including several of the Emmerdale cast and by the time I finished the sprint and the relay races were on the course. Consequently there were loads of people round the finish arena which was good – I did feel I got a reception at least, even if there was no one there shouting for me in particular… maybe next time. Then it was a wander down to the transition through the crowds, absolutely made up that I'd actually done the thing. Had a chat again with the guys who were near me, we said our goodbuys, packed up and I walked, stiff legged, back to the car to pack up for the drive home. Job done. Now, when's the next one...?
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Second open water swim
Err, yes, so I chickened out. I get a Tuesday evening free and all of a sudden there's the opportunity to go biking with the North Leeds Tuesday nighters around Ilkley Moor in utterly glorious weather. It's either that or a swim in a dank lake, full of weeds and stuff.
I managed to convince myself that another horrible lake experience would do more harm than good, and make me more nervous about the race swim. Hmmm. We shall see eh?
The biking was great by the way. LOADS of great singletrack round the moor on footpaths. There's apparently a Bradford council ruling which gives bikers permissive rights to all the Ilkley moor trails, which is handy. As long as we don't 'cause damage' ie churn it up in the mud. And there's no sign of any mud up there at the moment as we continue to bake in the heat. A brilliant ride. Nice pub up there too to finish off in - The Cow and Calf.
I managed to convince myself that another horrible lake experience would do more harm than good, and make me more nervous about the race swim. Hmmm. We shall see eh?
The biking was great by the way. LOADS of great singletrack round the moor on footpaths. There's apparently a Bradford council ruling which gives bikers permissive rights to all the Ilkley moor trails, which is handy. As long as we don't 'cause damage' ie churn it up in the mud. And there's no sign of any mud up there at the moment as we continue to bake in the heat. A brilliant ride. Nice pub up there too to finish off in - The Cow and Calf.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
First open water swim
“How hard can it be swimming in a lake (and) in a wet suit?” I thought. I’ve spent the best part of 18 months getting to the point where I can front crawl the requisite 1500m comfortably, and am pleased to say that this is now the case – in a swimming pool. So, with less than 2 weeks to go before the event I made use of the local (Leeds/Bradford) triathlon club’s open water swim sessions at a sailing club lake in Otley.
My borrowed wet suit I’d already tried on a couple of times and it had seemed to fit fine. But donning it at the sailing club all of a sudden it felt small and uncomfortable. Too tight. Everyone else seemed to look the part in theirs – they all looked like triathletes – while I just felt awkward in mine. Mind you it was about 30 degrees in the shade and I was too warm stood about in it waiting for the off. My new goggles though would do the trick – ‘proper’ Tri goggles. Cool. The guy in the shop assured me they would be the best thing for open water swimming. I’d tested these in the pool a few times and they gave me much more vision than the old smaller ones.
I got chatting to a bloke who’s first time had been the week before and his one comment was that he’d had trouble breathing. Eh? As I said – how hard can this be?
A couple of safety announcements – us newbies were wearing white hats so we could be spotted – and we walked down to the water. OK then so here we go…
And… I can’t see. Anything. How do you look up to see where you are going? I try this and my breathing is all over the place. And I can’t breathe. And my suit’s too tight. And I’m getting a bit of a panic on here. Ok, on my back and calm down a bit. It’s only swimming. There’s the safety bloke in his kayak – I’ll flag him down and seek advice. “Calm down.” He says. Yeah? Cheers. Try again. Same thing – no vision at all and a real issue trying to re-organise stroke and breathing to try to be able to get my bearings. Breathing all over once again and I’m on my back .. calming down. “Get some water into your suit to take the pressure from round your chest.” He suggests. Good idea, and this does work. Amazing how warm the water is by the way. Goddammit now my fancy new goggles are leaking. Bloody things. On my back to sort these out. Breathing to both sides is no good as the sun is low and on the clubhouse side I cannot see a thing. The other side points of reference are trees and an island so I am all over the place and also not balancing right for some reason. Breathe to one side and count strokes to take my mind off everything else. Better. Ok, one (450m) lap done in a really useless stop and start fashion. Take a break. Get my shit together. Deep breaths. Right, back in and try again. Relax. Better. Breathe to the one side only and doggy paddle a couple of strokes to look up if needs be. Follow someone? No good as they disappear once they get about a foot away from you in the water. Is that a marker buoy ahead or someone’s hat? No idea. Whatever – head for it. Yuck – weeds and stuff in the water when it gets shallow – not too keen on that. It was a buoy. More water in goggles – I could fucking strangle that guy in the shop. More faffing. More disorientation. Some actual swimming. Is that another buoy ahead? I think so. The last one. Ok, two laps done and the second was better. Another? Err, no thanks - I’m out of here. And then there's getting the wet suit off - I can see that's going to be fun under competition conditions...
At least the other guys are really good to chat to and very understanding – I seem to pretty typical for a first timer, if a bit more useless than most. Lots of good advice, and I’ll be back next week for my what will be my last practice before the race. Gulp. A dock has to be better than a lake right?
My borrowed wet suit I’d already tried on a couple of times and it had seemed to fit fine. But donning it at the sailing club all of a sudden it felt small and uncomfortable. Too tight. Everyone else seemed to look the part in theirs – they all looked like triathletes – while I just felt awkward in mine. Mind you it was about 30 degrees in the shade and I was too warm stood about in it waiting for the off. My new goggles though would do the trick – ‘proper’ Tri goggles. Cool. The guy in the shop assured me they would be the best thing for open water swimming. I’d tested these in the pool a few times and they gave me much more vision than the old smaller ones.
I got chatting to a bloke who’s first time had been the week before and his one comment was that he’d had trouble breathing. Eh? As I said – how hard can this be?
A couple of safety announcements – us newbies were wearing white hats so we could be spotted – and we walked down to the water. OK then so here we go…
And… I can’t see. Anything. How do you look up to see where you are going? I try this and my breathing is all over the place. And I can’t breathe. And my suit’s too tight. And I’m getting a bit of a panic on here. Ok, on my back and calm down a bit. It’s only swimming. There’s the safety bloke in his kayak – I’ll flag him down and seek advice. “Calm down.” He says. Yeah? Cheers. Try again. Same thing – no vision at all and a real issue trying to re-organise stroke and breathing to try to be able to get my bearings. Breathing all over once again and I’m on my back .. calming down. “Get some water into your suit to take the pressure from round your chest.” He suggests. Good idea, and this does work. Amazing how warm the water is by the way. Goddammit now my fancy new goggles are leaking. Bloody things. On my back to sort these out. Breathing to both sides is no good as the sun is low and on the clubhouse side I cannot see a thing. The other side points of reference are trees and an island so I am all over the place and also not balancing right for some reason. Breathe to one side and count strokes to take my mind off everything else. Better. Ok, one (450m) lap done in a really useless stop and start fashion. Take a break. Get my shit together. Deep breaths. Right, back in and try again. Relax. Better. Breathe to the one side only and doggy paddle a couple of strokes to look up if needs be. Follow someone? No good as they disappear once they get about a foot away from you in the water. Is that a marker buoy ahead or someone’s hat? No idea. Whatever – head for it. Yuck – weeds and stuff in the water when it gets shallow – not too keen on that. It was a buoy. More water in goggles – I could fucking strangle that guy in the shop. More faffing. More disorientation. Some actual swimming. Is that another buoy ahead? I think so. The last one. Ok, two laps done and the second was better. Another? Err, no thanks - I’m out of here. And then there's getting the wet suit off - I can see that's going to be fun under competition conditions...
At least the other guys are really good to chat to and very understanding – I seem to pretty typical for a first timer, if a bit more useless than most. Lots of good advice, and I’ll be back next week for my what will be my last practice before the race. Gulp. A dock has to be better than a lake right?
Monday, July 17, 2006
Descent into Swaledale
Another great descent, down into Swaledale. Always nice to be back in Yorkshire.
Grasmere from Loughrigg Terrace
A late afternoon traverse of Loughrigg Terrace gave us this stunning view over Grasmere and the prospect of yet more spanking downhilling along this amazingly elevated bridleway.
Coast to Coast (Part 1)
DAY ONE
Saturday 10th June
St Bees Head, Cumbria
Well, here I am on tour #2. The lads (and girl) have arrived at the starting gate, are under orders and are raring to go.
Actually Ben S is fast asleep. He’s no doubt in recovery from the sad loss of his BRAND NEW sunglasses during our swim in the sea. Yes folks, the weather is boiling hot. It’s about 80F and the sun really is burning, so much so that we did have a proper swim in the sea.
The B&B we are at (Stonehouse Farm) is lovely and the temptation is most definitely to stop here for a week and make the whole trip up in posts to the North Leeds thread on BikeMagic.
No chance. We have seven days of off road mayhem ahead of us – err, how fab is that?!
We arrived here at St Bees almost exactly to the minute that Christian’s Tom Tom had forecast we would when we left Leeds. Spooky, Or clever.
There’s been some sort of football match today. England apparently are playing in the finals of some tournament, and this was their first game. They won 1-0 against the mighty Paraguay. We watched it at one of the three local pubs within about 50 yards of the B&B. We are, ts has to be said, a tad spoilt for choice.
After the footy we changed into swimming gear, walked the mile or so down to the beach and had a swim in the lovely Irish Sea. The sea, OK, was quite cold but it honestly was fine once you were in.
It was at this juncture that the aforementioned sunglasses loss occurred when Ben dived under a wave whilst still wearing them.
Jo didn’t quite “swim” and to be honest was heard to girlie scream quite a bit whilst avoiding getting properly wet. More an advanced paddle I would call it, but she is a girl.
We returned from swimming (and a round of ice creams at a conveniently positioned beach-side ice cream van) to get the G&Ts in on the veranda. This amounted to a half bottle of G from the local shop; 2 bottles of T; plus a lemon and a lime. Actually, two limes as Christian stole a second one the pikey twat.
So now it’s showers all round and then I think we are off to the pub for more food. So far today we’ve polished off (in the car) Jo’s fine selection of fruit (pineapple and apples) and a large packet of crisps. Then there was serious sandwiches for lunch at the pub and then the round of ice creams.
We are all HUNGRY now, again. Ben S and John are in room 1 here. Chris, Ben F and myself are in room 2, while Jo is upstairs in room 4.
DAY TWO
Sunday. Pennyhill Farm B&B Eskdale, Lakes
The day started from St Bees with the compulsory “dip” in the sea. Except we didn’t quite dip as the tide was out – we just rode onto the pebbles and then got our picture taken on the prom by some “old ladies” (as John called them – they were likely in their 50s) who were doing half of the walking coast to coast.
The Serious Six then started out on their trek with great gusto and enthusiasm for the mighty task ahead and were all knackered after the first (road) climb out of St Bees.
Stonehouse Farm did a marvellous breakfast it has to be said. There is an ongoing debate as to whether it scores a 7 or 8 out of 10. We need some more full English offerings down us so we can compare, and then maybe recalibrate the scoring system. [In the end no breakfasts were deemed better than this one. And it ended up rating an 8. Or was it a 7?]
The Ride: 34 miles or so was the task set today (23 off road). At least half of that total distance was done on the easy trails of the Sustrans C2C route from the coast, and then on the long fire trail down the lakeside and into the end of the valley.
The weather was warm, humid and mainly cloudy all day but when the sun did come out it was roasting hot.
[Mention should be made here of the lake-side bench under the trees lunch sandwich stop, which was wonderful for about 5 minutes until clouds of midges found us and got a serious biting thing going on. We quickly moved off and sat just out of the trees, amusing ourselves by throwing stones into the lake. Just then a disabled guy on an electric scooter and his partner rolled slowly passed us on the lakeside track. They too spotted the inviting looking bench in the trees and the bloke totally went for the off road option, banging his in no way off road equipped scooter over roots and stuff to get to the bench. Perhaps, yes, we should have intervened at this point and warned them about the marauding insect life, but no – his off roading antics were too fascinating to interrupt. Unfortunately for him his escape from the subsequent midge mauling was impeded by the fact that he couldn’t walk unaided and his heavy scooter was now grounded. His missus was no use as he was a big bloke so Ben S and I went to his rescue, dragging this guy and the equally weighty scooter out back onto the path. I dread to think what kind of state those two would have been in if we’d not intervened as they were pretty much stuck there. Bloody disabled day trippers eh?]
Fortunately we were not baked in the sun on the monster carry up Black Sail Pass. It was extremely hard work but to be honest the severe gradient at least meant it didn’t last too long.
Once at the top we waited while Jo walked for miles to find a suitable toilet spot which was out of the view of the walkers coming down from Kirk Fell. Then we were able to set off on the steep descent into Mosedale. This was mainly a further carry/push at the top as the surface was either a very steep rocky path or loose chossy shale, and rather risky to ride, this only being the first day of the tour. Ben F however rode it until he came off over the bars, and we thought he’d miraculously managed to get away without body or bike damage. The bottom half of the descent however was great – rideable, technical, fast and excellent fun all the way down into the valley.
As we rolled into the Wasdale Head Inn the sun was shining so we were able to sink pints of shandy etc sunning ourselves just outside the toilets. Nice. A sheep dog type dog added to the beer garden fun with it’s endless stick chasing enthusiasm. By this time we’d covered the best part of 30 miles including a big (1000ft) carry and we were knackered. However, onwards and upwards and we reluctantly rolled out into Wasdale past the camp site (and completely dry river bed) and up onto the tops again towards Burnmoor Tarn. Another [600ft] big pull and this time in the sunshine and it was hot. Once at the top we knew we had a load of descent to look forward to, right down to our destination: Eskdale. However, just before we got to the tarn, Ben F pulled up with a major technical – his rear mech hanger snapped off. This was likely a result of the Black Sail off he had. No amount of technical expertise from Ben S could salvage the situation properly so that was pretty much the end of Ben F’s riding for the day (and for tomorrow as he’ll have to bike shop it to get it fixed).
There was more to come as just past the tarn Christian had an off which resulted in him seriously twisting his ankle to the point where he could not put any weight on it. Serious stuff by the looks of things
We limped on (down a brilliant descent for those who could manage it )and eventually stopped at a pub at Boot where we were able to simutaneously ice Chris’s damaged foot and have a beer. We then pushed Chris on his bike the couple of miles up the road to the B&B here. The lady owner kindly drove Chris back to the pub so we could get some food (the pub in Boot I should add, as the one right near the B&B was insisting we eat “now” as they were busy) and also drove him back. John and I cycled both ways.
Decent food at the pub although there was some debate as to whether Ben S’s steak was in any way rare as he’d ordered it.
A beautiful clear evening – gorgeous weather really. Forecast is for some rain tomorrow though. Ben F and Chris are going to try and get a lift from the Packhorse baggage man to Ambleside (with their bikes). Chris needs to rest his foot and Ben needs to get his bike fixed.
So, that’s day one over and we have a 33% casualty rate so far!
[Cute lambs at the B&B by the way. It was a working farm and our bikes were locked up in the sheep shed.]
DAY THREE
Monday. High Close Youth Hostel, just outside Windermere.
The Ride:
Farm. Bridleway to Boot (for a shop stop) and a wade in the river. Hardknott Pass start. Harter Fell climb/carry. (Clouds lift after slightly drizzly start). Woods, boggy. Forestry descent (past crazy tree chopping monster machine); added bridleway fun; descended through Wallowbarrow; beautiful cheeky footpath option (bridge and river – Jo’s dad’s painting). Road at Seathwaite. Walna Scar Road ascent (bastard. “c” word). Met girlie walkers and dog. Descent of a lifetime into Coniston. Lunch (curly chips). Sunny. Tilberthwaite road climb out of valley and never ending descent into Little Langdale. Elterwater. Crossed Great Langdale and climbed road to (eventually) Loughrigg Terrace: stunning view & shit. More foul words. Amazing descent to Ambleside: everyone getting giddy. Jo giggling (this was possibly earlier). Climbed (via several wrong turns) to Jenkin Crag. Beautiful views of Windermere in the sun. Lots more ups and downs and finally arrived at Hostel at 6:45pm.
What a fucking fabulous day, frankly.
Christian was then picked up from hostel by his mate who’d driven out to get him, so now we are five.
Ben F had a bit of a nightmare in the shop with his bike: real arsey staff.
John has serious bum chafing issues: he needs arse lard and lycra.
Pubs ALL stopped food at 8:30: just before we arrived at them.
Nice taxi driver man eventually got us to a pub in Windermere where they played drum and bass but did excellent meals.
The boys are now playing giant Connect 4 here in the hostel lounge.
A strange woman is interrupting our conversations. Jo has to sleep with her. Oh dear.
Now we are posting on BikeMagic.
BIKE, EAT, SLEEP. C to C 2006.
Ben F:
Back to first thing… (Ben & Christian)
My day began with witnessing Christian once more crawl over the hall to the toilet. Then, having got ready the ritual breakfast grading began.
Once this was over it was time to watch the helmets pass the window as Christian and I settled down to watch “Homes Under the Hammer”. (Ahem, enough said.)
But then, our saviour Simon the Packhorse driver arrived and our 4 hour guided tour of The Lakes began. We toured much, including the infamous midgey patch at … [?]
My trip ended with a drop off at Biketrax in Ambleside. Having obtained the necessary replacement parts off a rather unhelpful bunch of later coined cock weasels (by Ben S aka Tin Tin) and Christian who continued to the YHA.
I journeyed (walking) riding my now single speed for 2 hours before meeting Christian at the hostel. Finally the rest of the guys rolled up at around 7, and I’m sure their day has been well documented.
Ben S (Tin Tin!) :
Some of the best riding I’ve ever had the pleasure of ascending and descending. Awesome views, big country! Today’s trip well described. Longest day to come tomorrow though. Walna Scar ascent will be ridden in 1 next year!
(We are now in the kitchen.)
BREAKFAST RATING (Penny Hill Farm):
V.Good sausage, poor bacon; v.poor fried bread. No beans. Good eggs.
General consensus = 6. Possibly 5.5. (Much arguments about sausages. Much arguments about eggs. Much argument about mushrooms.)
Oh, yes. Got tuna sarny with curly chips for lunch in Coniston but it was expensive. There was egg and chips consumed as well. Everything is expensive – it’s an expensive trip!
This hostel, although a bit piss poor in facilities, is in a fabulous spot overlooking Windermere.
BREAKFAST RATING (Windermere):
NOTE: Full English only visited by Jo and Ben.
Poor. Jo’s verdict: scrapes a 3. Ben’s verdict: 4. Ben got Porridge. Though, which has perhaps skewed his verdict. Ben F & John had “cracking” continental option with a croissant. Softies.
Saturday 10th June
St Bees Head, Cumbria
Well, here I am on tour #2. The lads (and girl) have arrived at the starting gate, are under orders and are raring to go.
Actually Ben S is fast asleep. He’s no doubt in recovery from the sad loss of his BRAND NEW sunglasses during our swim in the sea. Yes folks, the weather is boiling hot. It’s about 80F and the sun really is burning, so much so that we did have a proper swim in the sea.
The B&B we are at (Stonehouse Farm) is lovely and the temptation is most definitely to stop here for a week and make the whole trip up in posts to the North Leeds thread on BikeMagic.
No chance. We have seven days of off road mayhem ahead of us – err, how fab is that?!
We arrived here at St Bees almost exactly to the minute that Christian’s Tom Tom had forecast we would when we left Leeds. Spooky, Or clever.
There’s been some sort of football match today. England apparently are playing in the finals of some tournament, and this was their first game. They won 1-0 against the mighty Paraguay. We watched it at one of the three local pubs within about 50 yards of the B&B. We are, ts has to be said, a tad spoilt for choice.
After the footy we changed into swimming gear, walked the mile or so down to the beach and had a swim in the lovely Irish Sea. The sea, OK, was quite cold but it honestly was fine once you were in.
It was at this juncture that the aforementioned sunglasses loss occurred when Ben dived under a wave whilst still wearing them.
Jo didn’t quite “swim” and to be honest was heard to girlie scream quite a bit whilst avoiding getting properly wet. More an advanced paddle I would call it, but she is a girl.
We returned from swimming (and a round of ice creams at a conveniently positioned beach-side ice cream van) to get the G&Ts in on the veranda. This amounted to a half bottle of G from the local shop; 2 bottles of T; plus a lemon and a lime. Actually, two limes as Christian stole a second one the pikey twat.
So now it’s showers all round and then I think we are off to the pub for more food. So far today we’ve polished off (in the car) Jo’s fine selection of fruit (pineapple and apples) and a large packet of crisps. Then there was serious sandwiches for lunch at the pub and then the round of ice creams.
We are all HUNGRY now, again. Ben S and John are in room 1 here. Chris, Ben F and myself are in room 2, while Jo is upstairs in room 4.
DAY TWO
Sunday. Pennyhill Farm B&B Eskdale, Lakes
The day started from St Bees with the compulsory “dip” in the sea. Except we didn’t quite dip as the tide was out – we just rode onto the pebbles and then got our picture taken on the prom by some “old ladies” (as John called them – they were likely in their 50s) who were doing half of the walking coast to coast.
The Serious Six then started out on their trek with great gusto and enthusiasm for the mighty task ahead and were all knackered after the first (road) climb out of St Bees.
Stonehouse Farm did a marvellous breakfast it has to be said. There is an ongoing debate as to whether it scores a 7 or 8 out of 10. We need some more full English offerings down us so we can compare, and then maybe recalibrate the scoring system. [In the end no breakfasts were deemed better than this one. And it ended up rating an 8. Or was it a 7?]
The Ride: 34 miles or so was the task set today (23 off road). At least half of that total distance was done on the easy trails of the Sustrans C2C route from the coast, and then on the long fire trail down the lakeside and into the end of the valley.
The weather was warm, humid and mainly cloudy all day but when the sun did come out it was roasting hot.
[Mention should be made here of the lake-side bench under the trees lunch sandwich stop, which was wonderful for about 5 minutes until clouds of midges found us and got a serious biting thing going on. We quickly moved off and sat just out of the trees, amusing ourselves by throwing stones into the lake. Just then a disabled guy on an electric scooter and his partner rolled slowly passed us on the lakeside track. They too spotted the inviting looking bench in the trees and the bloke totally went for the off road option, banging his in no way off road equipped scooter over roots and stuff to get to the bench. Perhaps, yes, we should have intervened at this point and warned them about the marauding insect life, but no – his off roading antics were too fascinating to interrupt. Unfortunately for him his escape from the subsequent midge mauling was impeded by the fact that he couldn’t walk unaided and his heavy scooter was now grounded. His missus was no use as he was a big bloke so Ben S and I went to his rescue, dragging this guy and the equally weighty scooter out back onto the path. I dread to think what kind of state those two would have been in if we’d not intervened as they were pretty much stuck there. Bloody disabled day trippers eh?]
Fortunately we were not baked in the sun on the monster carry up Black Sail Pass. It was extremely hard work but to be honest the severe gradient at least meant it didn’t last too long.
Once at the top we waited while Jo walked for miles to find a suitable toilet spot which was out of the view of the walkers coming down from Kirk Fell. Then we were able to set off on the steep descent into Mosedale. This was mainly a further carry/push at the top as the surface was either a very steep rocky path or loose chossy shale, and rather risky to ride, this only being the first day of the tour. Ben F however rode it until he came off over the bars, and we thought he’d miraculously managed to get away without body or bike damage. The bottom half of the descent however was great – rideable, technical, fast and excellent fun all the way down into the valley.
As we rolled into the Wasdale Head Inn the sun was shining so we were able to sink pints of shandy etc sunning ourselves just outside the toilets. Nice. A sheep dog type dog added to the beer garden fun with it’s endless stick chasing enthusiasm. By this time we’d covered the best part of 30 miles including a big (1000ft) carry and we were knackered. However, onwards and upwards and we reluctantly rolled out into Wasdale past the camp site (and completely dry river bed) and up onto the tops again towards Burnmoor Tarn. Another [600ft] big pull and this time in the sunshine and it was hot. Once at the top we knew we had a load of descent to look forward to, right down to our destination: Eskdale. However, just before we got to the tarn, Ben F pulled up with a major technical – his rear mech hanger snapped off. This was likely a result of the Black Sail off he had. No amount of technical expertise from Ben S could salvage the situation properly so that was pretty much the end of Ben F’s riding for the day (and for tomorrow as he’ll have to bike shop it to get it fixed).
There was more to come as just past the tarn Christian had an off which resulted in him seriously twisting his ankle to the point where he could not put any weight on it. Serious stuff by the looks of things
We limped on (down a brilliant descent for those who could manage it )and eventually stopped at a pub at Boot where we were able to simutaneously ice Chris’s damaged foot and have a beer. We then pushed Chris on his bike the couple of miles up the road to the B&B here. The lady owner kindly drove Chris back to the pub so we could get some food (the pub in Boot I should add, as the one right near the B&B was insisting we eat “now” as they were busy) and also drove him back. John and I cycled both ways.
Decent food at the pub although there was some debate as to whether Ben S’s steak was in any way rare as he’d ordered it.
A beautiful clear evening – gorgeous weather really. Forecast is for some rain tomorrow though. Ben F and Chris are going to try and get a lift from the Packhorse baggage man to Ambleside (with their bikes). Chris needs to rest his foot and Ben needs to get his bike fixed.
So, that’s day one over and we have a 33% casualty rate so far!
[Cute lambs at the B&B by the way. It was a working farm and our bikes were locked up in the sheep shed.]
DAY THREE
Monday. High Close Youth Hostel, just outside Windermere.
The Ride:
Farm. Bridleway to Boot (for a shop stop) and a wade in the river. Hardknott Pass start. Harter Fell climb/carry. (Clouds lift after slightly drizzly start). Woods, boggy. Forestry descent (past crazy tree chopping monster machine); added bridleway fun; descended through Wallowbarrow; beautiful cheeky footpath option (bridge and river – Jo’s dad’s painting). Road at Seathwaite. Walna Scar Road ascent (bastard. “c” word). Met girlie walkers and dog. Descent of a lifetime into Coniston. Lunch (curly chips). Sunny. Tilberthwaite road climb out of valley and never ending descent into Little Langdale. Elterwater. Crossed Great Langdale and climbed road to (eventually) Loughrigg Terrace: stunning view & shit. More foul words. Amazing descent to Ambleside: everyone getting giddy. Jo giggling (this was possibly earlier). Climbed (via several wrong turns) to Jenkin Crag. Beautiful views of Windermere in the sun. Lots more ups and downs and finally arrived at Hostel at 6:45pm.
What a fucking fabulous day, frankly.
Christian was then picked up from hostel by his mate who’d driven out to get him, so now we are five.
Ben F had a bit of a nightmare in the shop with his bike: real arsey staff.
John has serious bum chafing issues: he needs arse lard and lycra.
Pubs ALL stopped food at 8:30: just before we arrived at them.
Nice taxi driver man eventually got us to a pub in Windermere where they played drum and bass but did excellent meals.
The boys are now playing giant Connect 4 here in the hostel lounge.
A strange woman is interrupting our conversations. Jo has to sleep with her. Oh dear.
Now we are posting on BikeMagic.
BIKE, EAT, SLEEP. C to C 2006.
Ben F:
Back to first thing… (Ben & Christian)
My day began with witnessing Christian once more crawl over the hall to the toilet. Then, having got ready the ritual breakfast grading began.
Once this was over it was time to watch the helmets pass the window as Christian and I settled down to watch “Homes Under the Hammer”. (Ahem, enough said.)
But then, our saviour Simon the Packhorse driver arrived and our 4 hour guided tour of The Lakes began. We toured much, including the infamous midgey patch at … [?]
My trip ended with a drop off at Biketrax in Ambleside. Having obtained the necessary replacement parts off a rather unhelpful bunch of later coined cock weasels (by Ben S aka Tin Tin) and Christian who continued to the YHA.
I journeyed (walking) riding my now single speed for 2 hours before meeting Christian at the hostel. Finally the rest of the guys rolled up at around 7, and I’m sure their day has been well documented.
Ben S (Tin Tin!) :
Some of the best riding I’ve ever had the pleasure of ascending and descending. Awesome views, big country! Today’s trip well described. Longest day to come tomorrow though. Walna Scar ascent will be ridden in 1 next year!
(We are now in the kitchen.)
BREAKFAST RATING (Penny Hill Farm):
V.Good sausage, poor bacon; v.poor fried bread. No beans. Good eggs.
General consensus = 6. Possibly 5.5. (Much arguments about sausages. Much arguments about eggs. Much argument about mushrooms.)
Oh, yes. Got tuna sarny with curly chips for lunch in Coniston but it was expensive. There was egg and chips consumed as well. Everything is expensive – it’s an expensive trip!
This hostel, although a bit piss poor in facilities, is in a fabulous spot overlooking Windermere.
BREAKFAST RATING (Windermere):
NOTE: Full English only visited by Jo and Ben.
Poor. Jo’s verdict: scrapes a 3. Ben’s verdict: 4. Ben got Porridge. Though, which has perhaps skewed his verdict. Ben F & John had “cracking” continental option with a croissant. Softies.
Coast to Coast (Part 2)
DAY FOUR
Tuesday. Kirby Stephen Youth Hostel.
We are at the very excellent Kirby Stephen youth hostel. It’s “mint” as Ben F stated. Why? Firstly it’s an old church and I am now sat in the chapel with pews for seats for eating, and the area under the balcony is a kitchen. It’s quite wonderful. The landlady Clare is lovely too. What a pity this place is one of those closing in October.
We are also in the middle of the town, and right opposite a Co-op, so we’ve been able to get over there to buy food (and beer) for dinner.
Ben S is being team cook and we are having spag bog with extras. Marvellous.
Our journey here:
Town End to Kirby Stephen (36 miles: 19 off road).
Passes: Garburn, 1475 feet. Verdict: excellent. Good climb – mostly rideable and (yet)another rocky horror high excitement descent. Stile End: Short and sweet, nice descent again, and thus took us into Longsleddale which looked stunning but the track turned into a real monster ascent. Ben S amused himself by nailing parts of it, but mostly it was a ‘too steep to think about riding’ job. Stunning situation, mind.
This took us up to Brownhowe Bottom and a traverse across some boggy moorland towards Mosedale. This was extremely hard work and despite best efforts we all ended up with wet feet. Ben F managed to go over his bars again but this time landed safely in a bog.
[We did see a large bird of prey disappear into some trees in front of us at one point along here and I’m convinced it was a red kite.]
Eventually we arrived at the supremely isolated Mosedale cottage where luncheon was taken (we had bought packed lunches from Windermere hostel which were great).
Then we had a seemingly endless undulating yomp across another fucking great moor…. did a bit of road and at some point landed at Shap – all absolutely knackered.
We found a top newsagent which provided excellent take away teas which we were able to down whilst lounging in the grass in a park just opposite. We were all, as one, wishing that we’d finished for the day, but we still had 18 miles to go! Jo was begging for drugs: EPO in particular, but had to make do with Nurofen for her knackered knees (body in general). 2:30 we arrived there and 3:15 we left.
Fortunately the remaining mileage was mainly on minor roads and we were able to crack it off in a couple of hours, with some undulation once again. One real off road drag up a big field up to Bank Moor, some seriously fast road descents and a lot of tired legs.
A complete change of scenery as we went though – from the rocks and crag of the Lakes to the fields and meadows of the Vale of Eden once we’d crossed the M6. But, we rode triumphantly into K.Stephen at about 5:30pm.
Jo’s “mad woman” slept with her suitcase apparently. The lads mucked about loudly in their dorm – much more loudly than the 40 school kids it has to be said. It was too hot and no one slept well at all.
Jo states that the Windermere hostel is extremely poor: v.small rooms for instance; expensive for what you got (especially when you are paying extra for breakfast) and generally not very good.
Mention should be made of just how HARD this C2C route is. Technically very demanding and physically it’s just plain bloody hard work with long days in the saddle. Great stuff though.
This Youth Hostel, would you believe, has a full Park bike tool kit for our use – and most of it brand new: still in it’s packets. There is also a Park bike stand in the shed: hundreds of quid’s worth of premium quality tech kit – not being used. Except by us. The bikes are all stabled after having had a much needed thorough clean and Park tooled maintenance session.
Suntans and white bits are being compared. Looks like everyone will end up with the standard cyclist’s tan which starts just above the sock line and ends half way up one’s thigh where the lycra starts.
Jon:
Jon’s arse trouble got slightly better today with the use of Andy’s lycra shorts and minty arse lard – which required Jon to drop his pants mid-ride and re-apply. Managed to find some new cream in the Coop over the road. [Note a £2.50 tub of kids’ Sudocream does the job just as well as a £12 tube of specialist cyclists’ stuff.]
There’s a chap staying here who’s WALKING Land’s End to John O’Groats. How come, when you are doing these things which you reckon are personal epics there’s always some twat who’s doing so much more and manages to put your efforts in the shade. Git.
Yesterday in the Lakes was an utterly fabulous day out biking. The trouble is we do SO much each day that it’s impossible to remember it all. The climbs [in the Lakes] are long and hard (often carries/pushes – “grunts”) and the downhills are rock strewn, chossy, steep, fast, dangerous and wildly fun. And there’s just loads of them. Yesterday seemed like a mountain bike perfection day. A ‘best of’ the Lakes and all done in fantastic weather with no technicals – not even a puncture. I guess we (bikers) aim for those big ‘moments’ where it’s just sheer joy/lunacy - a mountain biking high - “endorphin city”. There’s been a lot of that on this trip already. There’s also the team element where the experience is multiplied by the knowledge that everyone else is going through exactly the same thing and you are all in this madness together. Difficult to put into words to be honest but whatever it is it’s incredible and a day like yesterday really is what makes us all do this thing.
Oh, by the way, Christian’s ankle isn’t broken – just badly sprained and will take a mere 2 weeks to heal up. He’s been on the phone and texted a few times. He must be absolutely gutted, the poor sod.
DAY FIVE
Wednesday. Springfield House B&B Reeth, Swaledale
Another monster day on the bikes, but I guess that goes without saying really. The welcome here at the B&B – tea and scones with home made jam – was brilliant. Jo is just down the road in a different place and without tea and scones.
There’s a double and a twin so we drew straws for the beds – or rather (in fine mountain biker stylee) we drew sunglasses lenses out of a waste paper bin. Ben S and I got the clear ones so we get the twin room, leaving the other guys the double bed.
We are just off to see if Jo is ready to come out to play – we are off to the pub.
Black Bull Pub
No one has had the “Grunt & Granny” sandwich (hot pork and apple sauce). This obviously would have been the entirely appropriate option, but we’ve gone en masse instead for the more filling looking giant Yorkshire pud with beef casserole and chips. Yum.
The Ride:
Cheeky footpath out of KS and then 6 miles v.quick on road. Then some bridleway, followed by “The Field of Doom” or “Bog of Tufty Doom” on a none existent bridleway over tall grassy, shitey, hugely uneven moorland. As usual for that type of terrain it was very hard work, but at least it was dry.
Next up was a road grunt up to the famous (“Highest Pub in Britain”) and remarkable Tan Hill Inn where there was a St George’s Cross painted pet sheep called “Tan” who lounged by the fire and let people stroke him. Honest. Tan is usually a scrounging pest by all accounts, but he was on good behaviour today and therefore allowed to stay indoors. Great pub: ridiculous location.
Met a couple of roadie tourers doing a coast to coast from Barrow to Sunderland and swapped a few tales over a cup of tea, shandies, soup etc. Most pleasant.
Next up was the Pennine Way with a distinct lack of downhill and two punctures. Eventually we got some excellent downhill and a fabulous track into Swaledale (Gunnerside) along the valley where we passed some walkers in fine speedy style, and then had the indignity of them walking past us while we fixed a puncture. “Hair and tortoise” comments were heard from them as they smugly sauntered past. All manner of threats were then heard from us by way of nasty physical and verbal revenge after they’d got out of ear shot – but we didn’t lower ourselves in the end.
Beautiful Swaledale bridleway by the river and then… a bastard long climb of 1000ft or so up to Apedale. We were all utterly wasted, especially our Jo, but heroics won through and she got top the top. Then there was an exiting downhill … another big climb. Ben F and Jo were right out at their limit by this point, but Kendal Mint Cake this time was our saviour – that and some Eccles cakes.
We arrived in lovely Reeth about 6 pm, almost minus Ben S who was So close to hitting a BMW on the final narrow road descent into the village – down which we were all really motoring it has to be said.
Oh, the food... Lovely but done and dusted in about 15 minutes. Extra potatoes demanded by all. It should be noted that for the morning John has ordered a half arsed breakfast. While the rest of the boys go for the full English J opts for an, ahem, bacon fucking sandwich. Mr B&B, it should be said, was not impressed by this – insulted, even.
Technical report: Ben F’s rear hub fixed by myself: bearings replaced. His rear brake is still rubbing a bit though.
Maps of next couple of days being scrutinised. Tomorrow looks like a relative rest day – handy as we just HAVE to get to Osmotherly for a 4pm kick off for some England game or other. The day after in the N.Yorks Moors however looks like an utter twat.
9:50 Black Bull Pub. Still.
The darts in the pub are broken but we have showed Swaledale how to play pool. Sort of. Germany have just dumped Poland out of the World Cup. Pool table and juke box to ourselves and “Perfect Day” plays on the jukey.
DAY 6
Thursday Osmotherley. Pub 4:30 PM.
England’s second World Cup finals match is due to start in half an hour.
Bit of a rest day today as it was mainly roadie-ing across the flat bit between the Pennines and the North Yorks Moors. Osmotherley is not far from the A19, nestled just under the west side of the latter set of hills.
We arrived about an hour ago and almost made it here without much incident. But, there’s a very shallow (and mossy) ford on the road about half a mile from the village and Ben S managed to off going across it and hit the road in the water very hard indeed. No real harm done luckily – just a few bruises and a hold in the back of his shorts. But it was a painful one.
Oh, and we also had a puncture-fest a few miles back after having done a bit of ‘extra’ bridle path across the edge of a field, which resulted in everyone bar John getting at least one puncture. The annoying thing was we’d done the field and all sat down in the sun for a break and discovered a couple of flats when we went to get back on the bikes. Then everyone checked their tyres to find all manner of enormous thorns in them. So, team puncture fixing ensued and we almost got run down by a miserable post van driver. Twice.
We did do some off roading this morning, out of Swaledale and round the side of a valley down into Richmond. A rare pit stop in civilisation enabled the use of cash points, Greggs and a grocers. It should be noted the Jo is done in after the excesses of yesterday’s gradients – she missed out the off road bit this morning and took the road option into Richmond, heading straight for a tea shop. She was most pleased that it was an easy day, but is threatening to dip out again tomorrow over some of the tops. We hope she manages to keep to The Route [She did].
Our mantra: The Route is the Way, and the Way is the Route.
We have an influx of intruders on the tour this evening: Jenny and Ed are coming up from Leeds for the evening, and these two it seems are seeing Ben and Jo respectively. Which is nice.
Osmotherley is another lovely village. Reeth was beautiful too – real picture postcard locations. We have seen a lot of these lovely little places on this trip.
Weather today: Very hot: a lot of sun. Good job we weren’t in the hills really.
6:55 and England have just won 2-0. They were not entirely convincing it has to be said.
Tuesday. Kirby Stephen Youth Hostel.
We are at the very excellent Kirby Stephen youth hostel. It’s “mint” as Ben F stated. Why? Firstly it’s an old church and I am now sat in the chapel with pews for seats for eating, and the area under the balcony is a kitchen. It’s quite wonderful. The landlady Clare is lovely too. What a pity this place is one of those closing in October.
We are also in the middle of the town, and right opposite a Co-op, so we’ve been able to get over there to buy food (and beer) for dinner.
Ben S is being team cook and we are having spag bog with extras. Marvellous.
Our journey here:
Town End to Kirby Stephen (36 miles: 19 off road).
Passes: Garburn, 1475 feet. Verdict: excellent. Good climb – mostly rideable and (yet)another rocky horror high excitement descent. Stile End: Short and sweet, nice descent again, and thus took us into Longsleddale which looked stunning but the track turned into a real monster ascent. Ben S amused himself by nailing parts of it, but mostly it was a ‘too steep to think about riding’ job. Stunning situation, mind.
This took us up to Brownhowe Bottom and a traverse across some boggy moorland towards Mosedale. This was extremely hard work and despite best efforts we all ended up with wet feet. Ben F managed to go over his bars again but this time landed safely in a bog.
[We did see a large bird of prey disappear into some trees in front of us at one point along here and I’m convinced it was a red kite.]
Eventually we arrived at the supremely isolated Mosedale cottage where luncheon was taken (we had bought packed lunches from Windermere hostel which were great).
Then we had a seemingly endless undulating yomp across another fucking great moor…. did a bit of road and at some point landed at Shap – all absolutely knackered.
We found a top newsagent which provided excellent take away teas which we were able to down whilst lounging in the grass in a park just opposite. We were all, as one, wishing that we’d finished for the day, but we still had 18 miles to go! Jo was begging for drugs: EPO in particular, but had to make do with Nurofen for her knackered knees (body in general). 2:30 we arrived there and 3:15 we left.
Fortunately the remaining mileage was mainly on minor roads and we were able to crack it off in a couple of hours, with some undulation once again. One real off road drag up a big field up to Bank Moor, some seriously fast road descents and a lot of tired legs.
A complete change of scenery as we went though – from the rocks and crag of the Lakes to the fields and meadows of the Vale of Eden once we’d crossed the M6. But, we rode triumphantly into K.Stephen at about 5:30pm.
Jo’s “mad woman” slept with her suitcase apparently. The lads mucked about loudly in their dorm – much more loudly than the 40 school kids it has to be said. It was too hot and no one slept well at all.
Jo states that the Windermere hostel is extremely poor: v.small rooms for instance; expensive for what you got (especially when you are paying extra for breakfast) and generally not very good.
Mention should be made of just how HARD this C2C route is. Technically very demanding and physically it’s just plain bloody hard work with long days in the saddle. Great stuff though.
This Youth Hostel, would you believe, has a full Park bike tool kit for our use – and most of it brand new: still in it’s packets. There is also a Park bike stand in the shed: hundreds of quid’s worth of premium quality tech kit – not being used. Except by us. The bikes are all stabled after having had a much needed thorough clean and Park tooled maintenance session.
Suntans and white bits are being compared. Looks like everyone will end up with the standard cyclist’s tan which starts just above the sock line and ends half way up one’s thigh where the lycra starts.
Jon:
Jon’s arse trouble got slightly better today with the use of Andy’s lycra shorts and minty arse lard – which required Jon to drop his pants mid-ride and re-apply. Managed to find some new cream in the Coop over the road. [Note a £2.50 tub of kids’ Sudocream does the job just as well as a £12 tube of specialist cyclists’ stuff.]
There’s a chap staying here who’s WALKING Land’s End to John O’Groats. How come, when you are doing these things which you reckon are personal epics there’s always some twat who’s doing so much more and manages to put your efforts in the shade. Git.
Yesterday in the Lakes was an utterly fabulous day out biking. The trouble is we do SO much each day that it’s impossible to remember it all. The climbs [in the Lakes] are long and hard (often carries/pushes – “grunts”) and the downhills are rock strewn, chossy, steep, fast, dangerous and wildly fun. And there’s just loads of them. Yesterday seemed like a mountain bike perfection day. A ‘best of’ the Lakes and all done in fantastic weather with no technicals – not even a puncture. I guess we (bikers) aim for those big ‘moments’ where it’s just sheer joy/lunacy - a mountain biking high - “endorphin city”. There’s been a lot of that on this trip already. There’s also the team element where the experience is multiplied by the knowledge that everyone else is going through exactly the same thing and you are all in this madness together. Difficult to put into words to be honest but whatever it is it’s incredible and a day like yesterday really is what makes us all do this thing.
Oh, by the way, Christian’s ankle isn’t broken – just badly sprained and will take a mere 2 weeks to heal up. He’s been on the phone and texted a few times. He must be absolutely gutted, the poor sod.
DAY FIVE
Wednesday. Springfield House B&B Reeth, Swaledale
Another monster day on the bikes, but I guess that goes without saying really. The welcome here at the B&B – tea and scones with home made jam – was brilliant. Jo is just down the road in a different place and without tea and scones.
There’s a double and a twin so we drew straws for the beds – or rather (in fine mountain biker stylee) we drew sunglasses lenses out of a waste paper bin. Ben S and I got the clear ones so we get the twin room, leaving the other guys the double bed.
We are just off to see if Jo is ready to come out to play – we are off to the pub.
Black Bull Pub
No one has had the “Grunt & Granny” sandwich (hot pork and apple sauce). This obviously would have been the entirely appropriate option, but we’ve gone en masse instead for the more filling looking giant Yorkshire pud with beef casserole and chips. Yum.
The Ride:
Cheeky footpath out of KS and then 6 miles v.quick on road. Then some bridleway, followed by “The Field of Doom” or “Bog of Tufty Doom” on a none existent bridleway over tall grassy, shitey, hugely uneven moorland. As usual for that type of terrain it was very hard work, but at least it was dry.
Next up was a road grunt up to the famous (“Highest Pub in Britain”) and remarkable Tan Hill Inn where there was a St George’s Cross painted pet sheep called “Tan” who lounged by the fire and let people stroke him. Honest. Tan is usually a scrounging pest by all accounts, but he was on good behaviour today and therefore allowed to stay indoors. Great pub: ridiculous location.
Met a couple of roadie tourers doing a coast to coast from Barrow to Sunderland and swapped a few tales over a cup of tea, shandies, soup etc. Most pleasant.
Next up was the Pennine Way with a distinct lack of downhill and two punctures. Eventually we got some excellent downhill and a fabulous track into Swaledale (Gunnerside) along the valley where we passed some walkers in fine speedy style, and then had the indignity of them walking past us while we fixed a puncture. “Hair and tortoise” comments were heard from them as they smugly sauntered past. All manner of threats were then heard from us by way of nasty physical and verbal revenge after they’d got out of ear shot – but we didn’t lower ourselves in the end.
Beautiful Swaledale bridleway by the river and then… a bastard long climb of 1000ft or so up to Apedale. We were all utterly wasted, especially our Jo, but heroics won through and she got top the top. Then there was an exiting downhill … another big climb. Ben F and Jo were right out at their limit by this point, but Kendal Mint Cake this time was our saviour – that and some Eccles cakes.
We arrived in lovely Reeth about 6 pm, almost minus Ben S who was So close to hitting a BMW on the final narrow road descent into the village – down which we were all really motoring it has to be said.
Oh, the food... Lovely but done and dusted in about 15 minutes. Extra potatoes demanded by all. It should be noted that for the morning John has ordered a half arsed breakfast. While the rest of the boys go for the full English J opts for an, ahem, bacon fucking sandwich. Mr B&B, it should be said, was not impressed by this – insulted, even.
Technical report: Ben F’s rear hub fixed by myself: bearings replaced. His rear brake is still rubbing a bit though.
Maps of next couple of days being scrutinised. Tomorrow looks like a relative rest day – handy as we just HAVE to get to Osmotherly for a 4pm kick off for some England game or other. The day after in the N.Yorks Moors however looks like an utter twat.
9:50 Black Bull Pub. Still.
The darts in the pub are broken but we have showed Swaledale how to play pool. Sort of. Germany have just dumped Poland out of the World Cup. Pool table and juke box to ourselves and “Perfect Day” plays on the jukey.
DAY 6
Thursday Osmotherley. Pub 4:30 PM.
England’s second World Cup finals match is due to start in half an hour.
Bit of a rest day today as it was mainly roadie-ing across the flat bit between the Pennines and the North Yorks Moors. Osmotherley is not far from the A19, nestled just under the west side of the latter set of hills.
We arrived about an hour ago and almost made it here without much incident. But, there’s a very shallow (and mossy) ford on the road about half a mile from the village and Ben S managed to off going across it and hit the road in the water very hard indeed. No real harm done luckily – just a few bruises and a hold in the back of his shorts. But it was a painful one.
Oh, and we also had a puncture-fest a few miles back after having done a bit of ‘extra’ bridle path across the edge of a field, which resulted in everyone bar John getting at least one puncture. The annoying thing was we’d done the field and all sat down in the sun for a break and discovered a couple of flats when we went to get back on the bikes. Then everyone checked their tyres to find all manner of enormous thorns in them. So, team puncture fixing ensued and we almost got run down by a miserable post van driver. Twice.
We did do some off roading this morning, out of Swaledale and round the side of a valley down into Richmond. A rare pit stop in civilisation enabled the use of cash points, Greggs and a grocers. It should be noted the Jo is done in after the excesses of yesterday’s gradients – she missed out the off road bit this morning and took the road option into Richmond, heading straight for a tea shop. She was most pleased that it was an easy day, but is threatening to dip out again tomorrow over some of the tops. We hope she manages to keep to The Route [She did].
Our mantra: The Route is the Way, and the Way is the Route.
We have an influx of intruders on the tour this evening: Jenny and Ed are coming up from Leeds for the evening, and these two it seems are seeing Ben and Jo respectively. Which is nice.
Osmotherley is another lovely village. Reeth was beautiful too – real picture postcard locations. We have seen a lot of these lovely little places on this trip.
Weather today: Very hot: a lot of sun. Good job we weren’t in the hills really.
6:55 and England have just won 2-0. They were not entirely convincing it has to be said.
Coast to Coast (Part 3)
DAY SEVEN
Friday. Greenhow B&B Glasedale, North Yorks (and later in the Glasedale pub).
A BIG day for the tour in the hills today, and all of it in the North Yorkshire Moors. This is not a place that we were really familiar with – until today. Personally I really, really enjoyed it out there today. There were loads of fabulous trails: some very hard ups, but all rideable, and the downhills were just amazing on the tracks across the tops (riggs) of the moors. Miles and miles and miles of it. Brilliant stuff. I managed to nail the toughest climb of the day, which I was chuffed about, but then fell off over the bars on a fairly technical descent. No real harm done (cuts and scrapes) but I do have a worryingly sore wrist.
Then I also became “Cock of the Day” with a comedy (show) off after a kids’ skid stop right near the end. I got stuck in my spds and tipped off sideways right in front of everyone. Cock.
Breakfast marks for Osmotherly B&B: Points lost for hard bacon and crap sausage. But, decent eggs and fried potatoes. All in all a six. Maybe 5.5.
[Trailspeak: During the duration of the trip a group vocabulary evolved out of the expletives uttered at the top of the brutal climbs. We amused each other by seeing who could come out with the most outrageously foul description to go with the outrageous effort we had put into getting up these monster hills. All this was done extremely loudly, in the great wide open, way out of earshot of anyone, for a whole week. So, you can imagine the level things dropped to towards the end. It had been pretty low at the start mind…]
The use of the ‘c’ word has become standard practice (after Ben S’s wonderful story relayed to us on Loughrigg Terrace of a friend of his who would publicly complain about he lack of “c**ting bacon” etc in ASDA) and is now commonly used in it’s adjective form before some of the more usual four letter words. For instance: “c**ting walkers”.
“Cockweasle” was another Ben S classic – initially used to decribe the bike shop people in Ambleside and their attitude towards Ben F.
Jo (the Queen of foul language) today came out with “c**ting knob cheese” at the top of one particularly difficult ascent, and there was even discussion of a “c**ting scale” (up to 10) for things which just went way over the top.
The trail language is choice. But very funny.
Jo is going to produce and market MINGE cloths. The name came first and we were then tasked with coming up with the acronym and so the Multi Integrated Natural Grease Elimination System was born. Squares of cotton for wiping things, basically.Genius idea and a great name. She’ll make millions.
A big day for punctures. We started at he B&B with three. John had a couple; the Bens both had two and I finished with one. Consequently there was a seriously high faff quotient to the day’s events.
We started at 10:20 and finished at 6:30. 35 miles with a lot of that off road. It was a hard one. Great though.
Jo (we have decided) needs some non-creamy honorary balls. The lady is a star, and was upset about not being able to be part of the arse larding ritual which occurs each day, often more than once. But she has taken a picture of us all in arse larding action. For her, err, collection.
The swapping of bike shoes so Ben S, John and myself could ride each others bikes for trial purposes has been described as “very gay”. Bollocks. How else do we try each others bikes. Bib shorts are admittedly very gay. The swapping of bike shoes is not.
Glasedale is a strangely shaped village. It’s set on a very steep hill and our B&B is right at the top (which was handy, as that’s the way we came in and we spotted the place almost straight away), and this pub is about 2 miles down the road. We don’t want to walk 2 miles back up the bloody great hill so the B&B people are coming down to pick us up at 10, “for a small contribution” – whatever that may be. 50p we reckon.
We have just been served up THE most excellent meals of the tour so far. Hands down the best food we’ve had all week. Really great home cooked stuff: my steak pie was just delicious and there was tons of it – and a pile of chips as well. And veg. The menu is unreal – what a place to eat. The food has been officially quoted by the tour as being “good shit”.
However, Ben STILL has not found a pub which serves any lamb. Lamb shank was actually offered up last night (and most of us ordered it!) but it turned out to be off the menu and we just had to settle for less. His torture is magnified by the fact that there are lambs everywhere in the fields and Ben may go and catch one to eat raw at some point soon.
Weather today: Cloudy and warm. No sun which was perfect. Also perfect was the fact that there was absolutely no wind at all on the tops of the moors which was a bit unreal to be honest. It did try to rain for half an hour or so late afternoon but it never quite got in precipitation gear – just a few drops - and we remained rain-free.
We passed by “Great Fryup” today. A place which in any other travelling situation has to be worthy of a detour to go visit.
DAY EIGHT
Saturday. Boggle Hole Youth Hostel, Robin Hoods Bay
Another pretty big day out for our last one. Lots of great trails again over more, err, moors. We started off with a monster of a road climb out of Grosmont – where there is a steam railway and it all looks very quaintly Yorkshire touristy.
Just previous to this village we’d bumped into this quite odd bloke who actually swore more than we did. He also had a real plumb in his mouth. His accent was still there but somewhat watered down and we deduced he was a proper upper class type who’d moved to the sticks (and probably bought the sticks).
Anyway, he was cycling along with two young lads when we initially passed him and they then caught us up as we were doing a map check. He was maybe in his mid thirties and nattered on about his road cycling and stuff, and then invited us to cross the road and check out the local BMX track, which just happened to be there. Pretty cool it was too and there was a lap or two completed by the tour members. Our bloke’s two mates were young lads (about 10 years old at a guess) and it looked like the kind of situation where this bloke would call round at these kids’ houses and see if they wanted to come out and play on their bikes.
We left him effing and blinding merrily away while we cracked on, and up a 1 in 3 real monster fucker (and many further expletives) rated road climb out of said railway town. But, this was a cheap way to gain serious height and get back up onto the moors. Then, funnily enough, there was a series of continual ups and downs to do – for most of the day. No change there then. I kept expecting the view to suddenly open up and reveal the coast, but there always seemed to be another moor between us and our destination.
[Ben S offed twice in the closing stages. The first one was when his front wheel was grasped by a pool of the stickiest mud ever, and he went straight over his bars. No major harm done there really. He saved his second and most serious off of the day until the absolute last bit of technical downhill. We’d had a long desecnt on an excellent chalky track which was full of deeply rutted but now dried up water channels. Mostly there was a line but sometimes drop offs were encountered and jumps were in order to get over some obstacle or other. That kind of thing. It was technical, fast, fun and dusty. Ben was at the front, unfortunately missed the very last jump and hit the dirt hard. Luckily he was protected from serious damage by his hip… Ouch.]
Eventually we were found to be climbing the very last ascent up to a mast and and to our well deserved viewpoint over Robin Hood’s Bay. And there it was – the other coast. Our destination. And after a sit and gawp at the scenery (and some shit) we were able to roll triumphantly down the old railway track right into town…. Except we missed a turning and ended up traipsing through some bloke’s field of a back garden carrying the bikes back up a steep hill, then following a footpath for a while until we found the correct track.
And THEN we were indeed able to roll triumphantly through the village past the hordes of tourists; straight out onto the beach, out across the sand (the tide was ouit) and dip wheels in the water. The Bens and John valiantly stripped off, donned swim shorts and dipped themselves into the cold North Sea. I waded a bit and Jo bravely dipped her toes in.
Pebbles from St Bees were duly dispatched in time honoured coast to coast fashion into said sea by those who had carried them across (Jo and myself that would be) .. and that was it. Job done. We had completed the Coast to Coast by mountain bike. The trek was over.
Err, not quite. There was the getting to the Boggle Hole Youth Hostel to do, but that could wait until after a couple of pints at the Wainwright’s pub on the harbour and some marvellous fish and chips. [Note should be made here that we have no end of trip team photo as the only chap to whom we gave a camera to get it, outside the pub- beers in hand, fucked it up and failed to take our picture. Twice. The twat.] We then had a rather fun traverse of the beach for a mile or so in the sand and through the odd stream to get to the youth hostel.
Boggle Hole Youth Hostel. Lovely position almost on the beach, in a beautiful part of the world. It’s an oasis of comfort. Or, it should be… they’ve put us in some side shack with an internal temperature today of about 50 degrees. There was much consternation within the team but at least Jo managed to get herself out of the boys’ dorm and into a girls’ one. Likely a lot less smelly and let’s hope the weirdo woman from Windermere with the suitcase is not in there with her. We are not really happy with this place.
Now we get ready to go out, back to the village, for some beers and hopefully some more food. Hungry again.
[That was it for the diary. That night was spent in three pubs amongst the it has to be said rather odd mix of folk who frequent Robin Hood’s Bay of a Saturday evening. Lots of walkers having finished their own coast to coast , but then there were the gypsy types for instance in one place who had two small yappy crap dogs which were encouraged to lick beer out of .. actually ‘share’ would be a better term for this… yes, the dogs shared beer glasses with their owners. Gross.
Ben rolled some serious fat ones on the balcony overlooking the sea outside one pub and we generally drank the evening away. We did manage to get some food in before they stopped serving it.
There was a mix of paths of return to the Youth Hostel with some of us braving the pitch dark and the path along the top (and dropping our phones under the wooden steps) whilst others braved the pitch dark and the water and returned along the beach. It should be noted that there was some shameful fridge raiding done by certain members of the team after we returned from the pub. How many packets of mini Jaffa cakes did those boys eat?
Christian’s car had been delivered to the youth hostel no problem and the keys left for us. Trouble is with that place though is that the car park is half a mile up the single track road which connects the hostel to civilisation, Our bags were dropped at said car park the evening before and we had to go up and wait for them..They are delivered by Packhorse to a local taxi firm who then charge for this service and then also charge to drop the bags off. Nice work if you can get it. We had to haul the bags down to the hostel and of course back up the fucking hill again the next morning, along with the bikes and full on hangovers, and no breakfast.
All this hauling of stuff, along with the awful accommodation (although it has to be said I did sleep well that night) did not endear Boggle Hole to the tour at all. Next time it’s a B&B in the village…
We eventually set off for home mid morning, stopping only for a final team meal on the A64: McDonalds. And guess what – it rained most of the way back. Ha-ha - could not have been more perfect timing.]
Friday. Greenhow B&B Glasedale, North Yorks (and later in the Glasedale pub).
A BIG day for the tour in the hills today, and all of it in the North Yorkshire Moors. This is not a place that we were really familiar with – until today. Personally I really, really enjoyed it out there today. There were loads of fabulous trails: some very hard ups, but all rideable, and the downhills were just amazing on the tracks across the tops (riggs) of the moors. Miles and miles and miles of it. Brilliant stuff. I managed to nail the toughest climb of the day, which I was chuffed about, but then fell off over the bars on a fairly technical descent. No real harm done (cuts and scrapes) but I do have a worryingly sore wrist.
Then I also became “Cock of the Day” with a comedy (show) off after a kids’ skid stop right near the end. I got stuck in my spds and tipped off sideways right in front of everyone. Cock.
Breakfast marks for Osmotherly B&B: Points lost for hard bacon and crap sausage. But, decent eggs and fried potatoes. All in all a six. Maybe 5.5.
[Trailspeak: During the duration of the trip a group vocabulary evolved out of the expletives uttered at the top of the brutal climbs. We amused each other by seeing who could come out with the most outrageously foul description to go with the outrageous effort we had put into getting up these monster hills. All this was done extremely loudly, in the great wide open, way out of earshot of anyone, for a whole week. So, you can imagine the level things dropped to towards the end. It had been pretty low at the start mind…]
The use of the ‘c’ word has become standard practice (after Ben S’s wonderful story relayed to us on Loughrigg Terrace of a friend of his who would publicly complain about he lack of “c**ting bacon” etc in ASDA) and is now commonly used in it’s adjective form before some of the more usual four letter words. For instance: “c**ting walkers”.
“Cockweasle” was another Ben S classic – initially used to decribe the bike shop people in Ambleside and their attitude towards Ben F.
Jo (the Queen of foul language) today came out with “c**ting knob cheese” at the top of one particularly difficult ascent, and there was even discussion of a “c**ting scale” (up to 10) for things which just went way over the top.
The trail language is choice. But very funny.
Jo is going to produce and market MINGE cloths. The name came first and we were then tasked with coming up with the acronym and so the Multi Integrated Natural Grease Elimination System was born. Squares of cotton for wiping things, basically.Genius idea and a great name. She’ll make millions.
A big day for punctures. We started at he B&B with three. John had a couple; the Bens both had two and I finished with one. Consequently there was a seriously high faff quotient to the day’s events.
We started at 10:20 and finished at 6:30. 35 miles with a lot of that off road. It was a hard one. Great though.
Jo (we have decided) needs some non-creamy honorary balls. The lady is a star, and was upset about not being able to be part of the arse larding ritual which occurs each day, often more than once. But she has taken a picture of us all in arse larding action. For her, err, collection.
The swapping of bike shoes so Ben S, John and myself could ride each others bikes for trial purposes has been described as “very gay”. Bollocks. How else do we try each others bikes. Bib shorts are admittedly very gay. The swapping of bike shoes is not.
Glasedale is a strangely shaped village. It’s set on a very steep hill and our B&B is right at the top (which was handy, as that’s the way we came in and we spotted the place almost straight away), and this pub is about 2 miles down the road. We don’t want to walk 2 miles back up the bloody great hill so the B&B people are coming down to pick us up at 10, “for a small contribution” – whatever that may be. 50p we reckon.
We have just been served up THE most excellent meals of the tour so far. Hands down the best food we’ve had all week. Really great home cooked stuff: my steak pie was just delicious and there was tons of it – and a pile of chips as well. And veg. The menu is unreal – what a place to eat. The food has been officially quoted by the tour as being “good shit”.
However, Ben STILL has not found a pub which serves any lamb. Lamb shank was actually offered up last night (and most of us ordered it!) but it turned out to be off the menu and we just had to settle for less. His torture is magnified by the fact that there are lambs everywhere in the fields and Ben may go and catch one to eat raw at some point soon.
Weather today: Cloudy and warm. No sun which was perfect. Also perfect was the fact that there was absolutely no wind at all on the tops of the moors which was a bit unreal to be honest. It did try to rain for half an hour or so late afternoon but it never quite got in precipitation gear – just a few drops - and we remained rain-free.
We passed by “Great Fryup” today. A place which in any other travelling situation has to be worthy of a detour to go visit.
DAY EIGHT
Saturday. Boggle Hole Youth Hostel, Robin Hoods Bay
Another pretty big day out for our last one. Lots of great trails again over more, err, moors. We started off with a monster of a road climb out of Grosmont – where there is a steam railway and it all looks very quaintly Yorkshire touristy.
Just previous to this village we’d bumped into this quite odd bloke who actually swore more than we did. He also had a real plumb in his mouth. His accent was still there but somewhat watered down and we deduced he was a proper upper class type who’d moved to the sticks (and probably bought the sticks).
Anyway, he was cycling along with two young lads when we initially passed him and they then caught us up as we were doing a map check. He was maybe in his mid thirties and nattered on about his road cycling and stuff, and then invited us to cross the road and check out the local BMX track, which just happened to be there. Pretty cool it was too and there was a lap or two completed by the tour members. Our bloke’s two mates were young lads (about 10 years old at a guess) and it looked like the kind of situation where this bloke would call round at these kids’ houses and see if they wanted to come out and play on their bikes.
We left him effing and blinding merrily away while we cracked on, and up a 1 in 3 real monster fucker (and many further expletives) rated road climb out of said railway town. But, this was a cheap way to gain serious height and get back up onto the moors. Then, funnily enough, there was a series of continual ups and downs to do – for most of the day. No change there then. I kept expecting the view to suddenly open up and reveal the coast, but there always seemed to be another moor between us and our destination.
[Ben S offed twice in the closing stages. The first one was when his front wheel was grasped by a pool of the stickiest mud ever, and he went straight over his bars. No major harm done there really. He saved his second and most serious off of the day until the absolute last bit of technical downhill. We’d had a long desecnt on an excellent chalky track which was full of deeply rutted but now dried up water channels. Mostly there was a line but sometimes drop offs were encountered and jumps were in order to get over some obstacle or other. That kind of thing. It was technical, fast, fun and dusty. Ben was at the front, unfortunately missed the very last jump and hit the dirt hard. Luckily he was protected from serious damage by his hip… Ouch.]
Eventually we were found to be climbing the very last ascent up to a mast and and to our well deserved viewpoint over Robin Hood’s Bay. And there it was – the other coast. Our destination. And after a sit and gawp at the scenery (and some shit) we were able to roll triumphantly down the old railway track right into town…. Except we missed a turning and ended up traipsing through some bloke’s field of a back garden carrying the bikes back up a steep hill, then following a footpath for a while until we found the correct track.
And THEN we were indeed able to roll triumphantly through the village past the hordes of tourists; straight out onto the beach, out across the sand (the tide was ouit) and dip wheels in the water. The Bens and John valiantly stripped off, donned swim shorts and dipped themselves into the cold North Sea. I waded a bit and Jo bravely dipped her toes in.
Pebbles from St Bees were duly dispatched in time honoured coast to coast fashion into said sea by those who had carried them across (Jo and myself that would be) .. and that was it. Job done. We had completed the Coast to Coast by mountain bike. The trek was over.
Err, not quite. There was the getting to the Boggle Hole Youth Hostel to do, but that could wait until after a couple of pints at the Wainwright’s pub on the harbour and some marvellous fish and chips. [Note should be made here that we have no end of trip team photo as the only chap to whom we gave a camera to get it, outside the pub- beers in hand, fucked it up and failed to take our picture. Twice. The twat.] We then had a rather fun traverse of the beach for a mile or so in the sand and through the odd stream to get to the youth hostel.
Boggle Hole Youth Hostel. Lovely position almost on the beach, in a beautiful part of the world. It’s an oasis of comfort. Or, it should be… they’ve put us in some side shack with an internal temperature today of about 50 degrees. There was much consternation within the team but at least Jo managed to get herself out of the boys’ dorm and into a girls’ one. Likely a lot less smelly and let’s hope the weirdo woman from Windermere with the suitcase is not in there with her. We are not really happy with this place.
Now we get ready to go out, back to the village, for some beers and hopefully some more food. Hungry again.
[That was it for the diary. That night was spent in three pubs amongst the it has to be said rather odd mix of folk who frequent Robin Hood’s Bay of a Saturday evening. Lots of walkers having finished their own coast to coast , but then there were the gypsy types for instance in one place who had two small yappy crap dogs which were encouraged to lick beer out of .. actually ‘share’ would be a better term for this… yes, the dogs shared beer glasses with their owners. Gross.
Ben rolled some serious fat ones on the balcony overlooking the sea outside one pub and we generally drank the evening away. We did manage to get some food in before they stopped serving it.
There was a mix of paths of return to the Youth Hostel with some of us braving the pitch dark and the path along the top (and dropping our phones under the wooden steps) whilst others braved the pitch dark and the water and returned along the beach. It should be noted that there was some shameful fridge raiding done by certain members of the team after we returned from the pub. How many packets of mini Jaffa cakes did those boys eat?
Christian’s car had been delivered to the youth hostel no problem and the keys left for us. Trouble is with that place though is that the car park is half a mile up the single track road which connects the hostel to civilisation, Our bags were dropped at said car park the evening before and we had to go up and wait for them..They are delivered by Packhorse to a local taxi firm who then charge for this service and then also charge to drop the bags off. Nice work if you can get it. We had to haul the bags down to the hostel and of course back up the fucking hill again the next morning, along with the bikes and full on hangovers, and no breakfast.
All this hauling of stuff, along with the awful accommodation (although it has to be said I did sleep well that night) did not endear Boggle Hole to the tour at all. Next time it’s a B&B in the village…
We eventually set off for home mid morning, stopping only for a final team meal on the A64: McDonalds. And guess what – it rained most of the way back. Ha-ha - could not have been more perfect timing.]
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Another right good do
Ok so none of you have ever heard of The Tragically Hip. Well, in a way that's great as when they do come over and play I get to see them in a small venue and witness a fantastic band play live at very close quarters.
The gig last Friday was amazing. It's the fourth time I've seen them in the Shepherd's Bush Empire as it's generally the only English venue they play when they come over to Europe.
These occasions happen about every three years so manage to really create a tangible fervour of expectation in the crowd. The Hip's stellar live reputation goes before them and they seem to be a band who really mean a great deal to their fans - one of these outfits who have a real die hard following and a massive amount of respect from people who have in many cases been fans for 15 years or more. And fortunately the respect goes both ways as the band do have a very real relationship with their fans, and I guess this is why they make the effort to get over here and play live every couple of years - something which is very unusual for a band who really do not sell many records outside of Canada.
My now 'usual' fellow Hip watchers Sam and Scottie were there; Rachael came over from Bristol and also ex workmate and recent Hip convert Nick, who drove us down the M1 for the show. We all got stuck in with the crowd downstairs and it was especially good to spend about half an hour front and centre singing (shouting!) along with Scottie.
The band really were on form and we got the best part of two hours' worth of Hipness. Lots of old, new and brand new including 3 tracks from their forthcoming album which is due out in October. Singer Gord Downie was his usual manic self. Whether he's singing, dancing, fighting with his microphone, ranting or just generally making faces and throwing shapes he is the absolute focus of the live show while the rest of the band just get on with the business of playing the songs. Downie was just soaked in sweat and exhausted by the end - much like his audience.
Great to see video cameras up by the sound desk, and it turns out that there's group of Canadian fans following these European dates and filming them all for unofficial distribution, sanctioned by the band. So we'll get some great live bootleg DVDs at some point: something I REALLY like to see :-)
So, all in all another fabulous evening's entertainment from our Canadian friends, and I spent the following day in Bristol with Rachael, which is a whole other story...
The gig last Friday was amazing. It's the fourth time I've seen them in the Shepherd's Bush Empire as it's generally the only English venue they play when they come over to Europe.
These occasions happen about every three years so manage to really create a tangible fervour of expectation in the crowd. The Hip's stellar live reputation goes before them and they seem to be a band who really mean a great deal to their fans - one of these outfits who have a real die hard following and a massive amount of respect from people who have in many cases been fans for 15 years or more. And fortunately the respect goes both ways as the band do have a very real relationship with their fans, and I guess this is why they make the effort to get over here and play live every couple of years - something which is very unusual for a band who really do not sell many records outside of Canada.
My now 'usual' fellow Hip watchers Sam and Scottie were there; Rachael came over from Bristol and also ex workmate and recent Hip convert Nick, who drove us down the M1 for the show. We all got stuck in with the crowd downstairs and it was especially good to spend about half an hour front and centre singing (shouting!) along with Scottie.
The band really were on form and we got the best part of two hours' worth of Hipness. Lots of old, new and brand new including 3 tracks from their forthcoming album which is due out in October. Singer Gord Downie was his usual manic self. Whether he's singing, dancing, fighting with his microphone, ranting or just generally making faces and throwing shapes he is the absolute focus of the live show while the rest of the band just get on with the business of playing the songs. Downie was just soaked in sweat and exhausted by the end - much like his audience.
Great to see video cameras up by the sound desk, and it turns out that there's group of Canadian fans following these European dates and filming them all for unofficial distribution, sanctioned by the band. So we'll get some great live bootleg DVDs at some point: something I REALLY like to see :-)
So, all in all another fabulous evening's entertainment from our Canadian friends, and I spent the following day in Bristol with Rachael, which is a whole other story...
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
A right good do
I had a last minute ticket offer (from Rachael - thanks SO much ) to see The Who in Hyde Park on Sunday. Always one of those bands who I felt I should see at least once: legendary stuff and all that, so I lashed it down on the train Sunday morning to London.
It's great to see that over the last few years Pete Towshend and Roger Daltrey seem to have made friends again, revived their band and found a love of playing those songs once more.
And what songs! Spine tingling stuff to hear stuff like Can't Explain, Who Are You, Baba O'Reilly, Behind Blue Eyes and Won't Get Fooled Again. The newer material was excellent too and Townshend's solo acoustic rendition of Drowned was, for me, stunning.
A great band with Zak Starkey giving it loads of Keith Moon behind the drums and Pino Palladino ably filling the equally giant shoes of John Entwhistle.
Lots of video on screens behind them throughout with the band paying their own resepcts to their long history and deceased colleagues.
Daltrey's kept himself and his voice in great shape and Pete Townshend obviously still enjoys being a very noisy arm windmilling guitar monster, although his days of wanton equipment trashing are thankfully behind him.
They may no longer be the angry young men of the 60s and 70s but I reckon they are a better live spectacle as content, energetic 'old' men simply enjoying what they do; respecting themselves, their history and their amazing catalogue of material, thus making The Who live an absolute joy to behold as a spectator.
Fantastic.
Great weather too: a beautiful hot summer's day and lovely warm evening. And great to be part of such a huge, well behaved crowd.
All in all right good do.
It's great to see that over the last few years Pete Towshend and Roger Daltrey seem to have made friends again, revived their band and found a love of playing those songs once more.
And what songs! Spine tingling stuff to hear stuff like Can't Explain, Who Are You, Baba O'Reilly, Behind Blue Eyes and Won't Get Fooled Again. The newer material was excellent too and Townshend's solo acoustic rendition of Drowned was, for me, stunning.
A great band with Zak Starkey giving it loads of Keith Moon behind the drums and Pino Palladino ably filling the equally giant shoes of John Entwhistle.
Lots of video on screens behind them throughout with the band paying their own resepcts to their long history and deceased colleagues.
Daltrey's kept himself and his voice in great shape and Pete Townshend obviously still enjoys being a very noisy arm windmilling guitar monster, although his days of wanton equipment trashing are thankfully behind him.
They may no longer be the angry young men of the 60s and 70s but I reckon they are a better live spectacle as content, energetic 'old' men simply enjoying what they do; respecting themselves, their history and their amazing catalogue of material, thus making The Who live an absolute joy to behold as a spectator.
Fantastic.
Great weather too: a beautiful hot summer's day and lovely warm evening. And great to be part of such a huge, well behaved crowd.
All in all right good do.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
