It seems straightforward enough – you hire a bike and some shoes the right size (the bikes are Dolan track bikes, the shoes are Nike with Look Delta cleats), pay up, get changed and make your way to the Rider‘s D. Yes, the very place usually reserved for the likes of Hoy, Obree or Cavendish, now ours space, and ours alone!

We had booked a training session, led by a veteran Geordie, who calmed our anxieties down straightaway. Splitting us into two groups – the newbies and the been befores – his most important piece of advice was ‘when you cross the line, don’t sit up and stop pedalling – you’ll be kicked off like a mule’. The bikes are proper track bikes – fixed gear, no brakes and tubular tyres – which, added to the 45 degree banking certainly did make me nervous, at least for the first half an hour or so!

Once we got going it wasn’t too bad, as long as I didn’t have to stop – no brakes remember, so you just have to slow down, then grab the hand rail. A definite advantage to those of us who are used to riding a ‘fixed’, e.g. Mark, Hervé and Richard, but the strangeness of the situation – 250m track on boards, inside with no wind, the fact that its the National track – all make for such a unique experience that riding fixed is just another oddity, and a ‘specialness’ that has to be experienced to be enjoyed.

After a few flying laps, some timed laps and group sprints, we were left to spin around until our time was up. Thankfully I managed to stay on two wheels throughout the whole evening, for which I am eternally grateful! Roll on next time!

A good time is around 25 minutes. Under 30 minutes is generally expected. I posted 32 minutes on my first attempt. Blah! I managed to shave a few seconds off my second attempt, but by my third attempt I new I wasn’t going to improve. Especially when, half way around, my mind was already wandering off to what I was going to have for tea the next day!

I just can’t seem to focus, stay in the zone, whatever you call it. Maybe I just haven’t got the right muscles. Or maybe its the bike! Ha ha, perhaps I need a new bike? Let the search begin…

A cold night in the tent followed an early night (why is it always freezing when you camp?), then a decent breakfast preceded another briefing about the days ride. To be honest I had no idea of the route or what to expect, ignorance is bliss in my book! Plus, I’m hopeless at map reading too, but the route was so well signed it was (fairly) impossible to get lost or take the wrong route anyway.

Statue at Goodwood

Sunday’s route seemed more hilly than the day before, big long rollercoaster dips, 6, 7, 8 in a row before levelling off for a few miles, then the same again, quite a different flavour to the PD hills. A seemingly endless climb ground its way up to the first stop at Goodwood with some stunning views at the top. But we didn’t hang around long before cracking onto the lunch stop at Steyning for the final top up of fuel. By then, the rumours about the very last hill, Devil’s Dyke, were spreading around the group, and we weren’t looking forward to it!

Devil’s Dyke

With only 15 miles to go, we were reliably informed that Devil’s Dyke came at around the 8-10 mile mark, after which it was literally all down hill to the beach from there. Sure enough, the already rolling terrain started winding up even higher as we passed through Saddlescombe, with some 1-3 switchbacks forcing some of us (ahem!) off the bikes for a gel and a rest.

The infamous Devil's Dyke

A ridge was visible on the horizon but surely we were going through it, not over it? As the trees cleared at the other side of the village, the moors levelled out and it became obvious there was only way, and that was up! When hills have names, you know they’re going to be bad, and this was no exception. One final big dipper, a slight false crest and then the inevitable grind up the aforementioned hill used up the last ounce of energy I had left.

Eventually, with Devil’s Dyke conquered, it was, as promised, all down hill for the last few miles into Brighton on Hove, where a glass of champagne and the family awaited on King Alfred’s lawns.

I caught up with Canadian Robert de Rot who had come over especially to take part in the ride, but smashed his rear mech going through one of the cobbled fords on day 1 – luckily the support crew had a spare bike to lend him so he could at least complete the ride, which he did in good time. The first riders came through at about 8 hours in total, I clocked in at 10 hours with about half the field behind me.

Next year?

Next year’s ride is 19-20 May, over a similar route, and costs £55 to sign up, which includes all food on the ride, overnight accommodation and technical support before, during and after the ride. And not forgetting a free massage! I’ll let you know if I decide to sign up for it, or maybe London to Paris instead?

There was a very social feeling to the ride, and a great Facebook page for people to communicate with each other on, before, during and after the ride, with plenty of photos being shared throughout. I’ve included a couple here and more can be found on my Facebook page here.

 Day 1: Bournemouth to Meon – The grand depart!

PR shot at the Grande Depart

After an overnight stay at a local hotel and a rushed breakfast I signed in for the ride at Bournemouth AFC’s football ground, got my ride number, stuffed a banana in my jersey and waited nervously at the starting area for the pre-ride safety briefing. I hadn’t done anything like this before, so wasn’t quite sure what to expect. A gentle rolling start or an all out blast to be first to break away? In the end, neither, as all 240 riders rolled in a group down to Boscombe Pier for a photoshoot. PR duties over with for now, we headed back up the coastal route to Christchurch, then swung inland, heading for Hampshire and the South Downs.

View from the top

The Downs and the New Forest were amazing to ride through – I’m used to the odd sheep, but wild ponies roaming free caught me by surprise, especially as they crossed the road in front of me on several occasions! Steam engines, cobbled fords and numerous cattle grids followed as the terrain got more rolling, developing into some quite severe climbs through countless twee villages (Twyford anyone?) followed by hair-raising descents at 30-40mph, with a steady climb up to the overnight campsite at Meon.

Steam-rollered!

We were advised in the morning that later in the day our route would coincide with another organised race. Pennine Events didn’t know the full details but said not to worry as they would have some people down there to make sure we didn’t follow the wrong signs. Little did we know exactly what that ‘other event’ was!

As we approached Corehampton, a British Cycling motorbike overtook us and held up the traffic at a crossing ahead of us – wow, I thought, this is cool! – as I went past and started up the next hill, 3 pro-looking riders whooshed by, followed by another motorbike and a couple of support cars. Even cooler, I thought, until, sounding like a steam-train and moving just as fast, the main bunch of the Roy Ludford Memorial Tour of the Milburys 2011 approached and enveloped me in a matter of seconds.

My surprise quickly gave way to fear of messing up their race so I dived into the ditch, only to be followed by a couple of the riders looking for the best line (or so they thought!). Further evasive action was needed, so I quickly unclipped and dived in the hedge, making sure I fell away from them. Within seconds they were away, huffing and puffing, clattering of gears and wheels – I’ve never experienced something of that level before and I’m not sure I liked it to be honest!

Massage time!

Studying tomorrow's route

After swapping my bike for my rucksack at the storage area, I queued up for a welcome (and free!) massage laid on by the organisers, then relaxed in the bar, eagerly waiting for dinner. This was another opportunity to meet up with some of the people I’d connected with prior to the ride on Facebook, and my table got more and more crowded through the evening as people joined us, comparing notes from the day.

After a sufficient (though not belly busting!) meal most people retired around 10pm in the hope of a decent sleep to set us up for the following day’s ride – will my legs cope?

Only, the start wasn’t where it was all happening – that was in the cobbled city centre streets around Michael Gate – and this kids were even less impressed now. However, as soon as the race started, and the police, support cars and team vehicles started going past, the kids thought we were at the Tour de France, complete with big smiles!

The race is 11 long laps going out to Burton and back, so we had plenty of time to walk the course until the bunch caught us up again, pick a good spot to watch them go by, then carry on. This went on for 5 laps or so until we found the square in the centre where all the stalls and people were, centred around the actual finish line. We picked a good spot and watched them go by at a fair pace, despite the viciously steep cobbled Michael Gate.

Having never actually seen proper pro’s ride past (apart from donkey’s years ago when the Milk Race visited Newcastle’s cobbled Bigg Market, strangely similar terrain) I wasn’t aware of the speed they’d be attaining, nor the single-mindedness of their approach. Happily standing in the pave gutter that lines either side of the cobbled road to get a good view as the leaders came up the hill, I didn’t quite realize that I’d have to yank Aden out of the way by his coat hood to stop him getting run over! Nor did several other people, who scattered out of the way as the bunch came by, splitting into two to go either side! Cheating, I call that!

The Rapha team were handing out postcards of all their team, which has made Aden a fan for life. Nigel Mansell (of F1 fame) had his team UK Youth out, and we caught sight of him pushing his tail-enders up the intense climb.

After a few more laps we made our way to the actual finish line, which by now was too crowded, so we moved up slightly just past it. This turned out to be quite lucky – I overheard a local woman telling her kids to move up to the top of the lane when the leaders came around on the last lap, as there is a ‘parc ferme’ down a side street where they would all head for.

She was right – and we got some cracking photos of the winner – Scott Thwaite of Endura – being seen to by his soigneur, and all the other teams as the filed in. There was a great atmosphere and we felt lucky to be in the right spot at the right time.

Needless to say, the kids are now converted and we’re looking forward to the next one!

Should I sign up and would I make it?

After some thought about whether or not I was up to it, and much debate over the speed/route on the forum, 5 of us assembled at Argos at 9am on the Saturday morning, as we would on any normal club ride. Ian G, John, JonM and RichardB were to be my companions for the next two days of hilly riding.

Planning the route from Crich

Thankfully, it was a glorious day and that’s how the weather stayed for the whole weekend. We had all packed tiny bags, with just the bare minimum to keep us going, and about 48 bars and gels just to make sure!

Climbing Monsall Head

This is a link to the route we finally took, (or at least Richard did as I skipped a couple of the tougher diversions!), taking in: Dale Abbey, Crich (tough), Riber (tougher), Matlock, Darley Dale, Baslow (40mph descent), Curber Hill (up to the top to look at the view then back down again!), Grindleford (not far from where Pamela and the boys were on their Aikido walkabout), Hathersage, Hope, Castleton and finally Edale.

Overnight we stayed at Edale YHA – good, cheap accommodation with evening meal and breakfast for about £19 total – must come back at some point! We were given our own dorm with plenty of room to stash the bikes, though it was a bit weird waking up next to them!

Richard, Paul, John, Jon, Ian

The return route took us via Monsall Head (scene of the annual hill climb championship, where we encouraged Richard to go back down and try harder!), Little Hucklow, Tideswell (the Cathedral of the Peaks), Bakewell (stopped for a tart), Birchover (where we used to camp), Winster, Via Gellia, Cromford, Wirksworth, Little Eaton, Drum hill (zapper), Morley, Dale Abbey, Stanton and down Quarry Hill, then finally to the Crown in Beeston where we enjoyed a well-earned pint in the early evening sun. About 130 miles in total by the end, and bloody hell did my legs feel it!

Overall, I did a lot of swearing on the hills and struggled at times on my Giant Defy, but the commaradery was good and we enjoyed a good laugh. Though I was definitely the weakest link, we stuck together and worked as a team, not falling out or bickering for the whole trip. I we do it again next year I may insist on a bit more planning, like making sure we all had each other’s numbers for example, but otherwise I wouldn’t change a thing.

Only two week to go before the biggy – Bournemouth to Brighton for Asthma UK!

Paul, Ian and Greg at the start of Charnwood in the Spring

April was definitely the start of the busy season, as the weather improved dramatically and so did the daylight hours. I packed in several challenging rides, starting with my first Audax – Charnwood in the Spring – a local 70 mile route taking us through Leicestershire. I started the ride with Ian G and Greg, the former who was keen to win the thing (though Audaxes aren’t races at all, you simply have to do the distance) and Greg who probably could have won it, though he suffered from bad cramp near the end. We stuck to the route but were beaten by a team wearing Sky jerseys who took a short cut near the end. Not that it matters at all of course, we know we did the full route and they probably think they did too!

John enjoys his scone

Soon after was a ride with Nottingham Netwheel. Well, cycling is supposed to be the new golf, and this is a networking group set up on LinkedIn to provide a networking/cycling opportunity amongst business people in Nottingham, organised by ex-racer and son of Sid Standard, David Standard. Riding up to the start at Nottingham Forest football ground with John McCay of BCC and a couple of others from BRC, I felt a little anxious as I wasn’t sure what the pace or terrain would be like. Well, it was fast and hilly around Leicestershie/Belvoir way, so not my strongest performance! There were many Colnagos, Pinnarellos and Bassos on display, and I felt a little outclassed on my lowly Giant Defy. Not that it would have mattered if I had legs like Cavendish, but alas. David Standard rode next to me for a while and chatted, told me I was doing about as well as I could on my tank of a bike! The cafe stop was a relief, coming as it did after one of the toughest hills in the area, then it was a race home. I managed to hide in the bunch most of the way 22mph+ (half of them were ex-pro’s I think!) and faded at the end. John and I rode on together for a pint at the Crown in Beeston to chew the fat before going home.

Russel and Paul at Belvoir Castle

There were several other rides after that, all of which was helping with my training for the upcoming Beeston CC trip to Edale – more about that next month – including a couple of social rides and a Sunday Steady ride with Russel, Greg and Steve up to Dove Cottage. Being a Bank Holiday we hadn’t counted on the cafe at Dove Cottage being shut(!) so we headed on to Belvoir, entailing a 5 mile dead straight run into wind. 70 miles in total by the time we got back (via a pub, of course) so I was feeling quite good.

I attempted my first TT around the local 10 mile loop – about 33 miles in all including the timed section. A good time would be 22-24mins. Hah. 32 minutes for me! Not helped by my tank of a bike with iron wheels, inability to change gear on the drops, and oh, me being  plain slow of course! There was a good showing from the club and I was proud to wear our jersey, but I don’t think its my thing!

Rounding off the busy month, I rode out to Cloves and Hill with John McCay for some last minute confidence building. These are two of our notorious hills – Cloves being a lovely steep incline alongside a row of houses, Drum is less steep but longer on the return. These two hills make part of many a ‘hilly loop’ and are where reputations are made. I managed my first times up these with a little walking near the end, but I was determined to come back and conquer them!

We managed to get the kids out for a few family rides too – Aden around the Nature Reserve, and Harley the Wilne Loop (13 miles) on his Belgian touring Mistral, all decked out in his best riding gear! Some great weather helped our motivation and it felt like winter was fading at last.

Proud Harley on his Mistral

We all decided to get a bit more serious with our cycling in February, so I did an audit of the family collection of bikes, putting on eBay an old BMX and Pamela’s b’Twin abomination (which I’d only just bought for her birthday last year, and which didn’t survive the famous car-writing-off incident very well!). The BMX was bought for a tenner, whilst we got about £80 (half price, not bad) for the b’Twin from a couple from down-south – along way to come, and they already had one on the back of their car by the time they got to ours!

Pamela’s replacement bike was a matt-black Specialized Tri-Cross from Rutland Water: £725, triple up front, Sora running gear and lugs for mudguards. We looked at a few (cheaper) options, but this was the one really. And a good buy it has turned out to be, encouraging Pamela out on her bike more regularly. We spotted a classic Belgian tourer in Harley’s size at a local 2nd hand shop, and Aden also got a new Isla Bike for his birthday (back in September) so we were all ready to rock and roll!

The icy weather, a trip to Rome on business and a new alotment to work on kept me busy between bike rides, but we still managed to get the kids out for a couple of trips around the Nature Reserve, and even Ian and Lesa on one occasion, though since then we haven’t ridden much together.

Towards the end of the month I managed my longest ride so far, to Dove Cottage via the rolling lanes, with Russell and a few others from the club. Russell is a time-served long distance audaxer, to whom a mere 60 odd miles is a stroll in the park! I struggled to keep up at the end as usual, but the Sunday Steady rules applied and everyone slowed down to make sure I didn’t fall too far back. I must get fitter!