PpPete
Legendary Member
- Location
- Chandler's Ford
9:45 start
Tail wind assisted I'm ahead of my personal schedule through St Ives & Spalding.
Still within minutes at Louth. Spent too long faffing with drop bag, deciding what items to leave and which to trake with me.
Good run - but then front wheel puncture 5km from Pock. Sealant (tubeless) holding at 20 psi so tried a CO2 - fail. Anchovy - and 2nd (and last) CO2 - only holds to 30psi. Limp into control and too tired to fix.
Spend ages trying to repair in a.m. but eventually give in and use a tube. Leave at 6:30 instead of planned 5:30
Plan to use the "The Easingwold Variation" to make back time - Too busy chatting with Texan 'bent rider and miss turning so Howardians it is.
Don't lose any time, but don't make it up either. And somewhere along the way an untidy gear change destroys my chain catcher so drops into the granny ring become risky. Still Thirsk to Barney is an easy stage, isn't it?
No, it f@rking isn't. It just alternates cross-wind with head-wind on and on forever. I'm really tired when I labour up the drive to the palace that is the new Barnard Castle control. Hear rumours about Louth & Spalding running out of food, so start to pay attention to where the 'bulge' is.
Yad Moss isn't as painful as I recall, apart from the very top where it's quite exposed to the wind.
Stop into Alston to check it out in anticipation of using it southbound - they are not officially open yet, but give me a cup of tea & choccy biccy anyway.
Onto Brampton where I arrive nearly two hours behind my schedule but still spend more time faffing with drop bag and leave with 10 hours in hand instead of the twelve & a bit that I'd planned. It's not too late though, so I press on up the tedious road through Longtown, across the border in the last glimmers of the daylight and onto the buzzy surface up though Lockerbie. The fatter tyres help and I make up a few minutes. Familiarity with Moffat enables me to tow a bunch of VC167 riders into the control - they'd normally be a whole lot faster than me.
So far I'm feeling OK, no serious aches & pains, and not feeling too tired, so cut back on planned sleep and leave just an hour behind my plan. The Devil's Beeftub is hidden in the early morning clag (it was 4 years ago too) and I grind up, still in the middle ring, the granny almost unused since the chain catcher went. I've emailed the controller at Edingburgh in the hope of getting another so fingers crossed. I hoon it down the other side to Broughton, forgetting just how undulating it is beyond. The surface after Blyth bridge is really shite and I swear out loud to myself and to any passing beastie. By the time I get to the cycle track at Roslyn I feel beaten up, and I'm just trundling along when an overweight OAP on a mountain bike behind me rings his bell to get me to move over to let him past. (the shame, the shame). He's a friendly bloke though and we ride a mile or two together chattiing before our paths diverge not far from the control.
The good news is that I've made up a little time, the bad is that chain catchers are available to fit every diameter downtube except mine. Ah well !
I recall the right turn on the hill in Lasswade so make sure I'm in the granny ring in plenty of time, but thereafter the route is a little different and I'm caught either in the wrong gear or with dropped chain a few times before the steady grind up into the Moorfoot hills.
Turning into the long false flat up the Dewar Burn we're into the headwind for real and it's a real grind. No trains to jump on - individual riders go past, but all too fast for the likes of me to catch a wheel.
Down the other side and it starts to rain. It's just a shower, is it?, no it's not. Stop and on with the Goretex for the 1st time. Plough on to Innerleithen where completely forget to pick up stickers from @middleagecyclist .
Back out in the dry and this stage really hurts - there are some bastard hills and they all have a headwind blowing straight down them - and no shelter from the Forestry which has all been trimmed back. Share the road briefly with a couple of the torpedo-shaped velomobiles. In this wind they are faster uphill than I am.
Finally we're on the last rise before the control and it really sarts to rain hard. Cold rain, almost sleet. There are a few more riders around me now (the bulge catching up ?) and I tease a couple of French riders about how much we Brits enjoy this weather.
Eskdalemuir is busy but welcoming and again I spend too long in the warm & dry.
Must get on - rain has passed and the surface seems to be in better shape than in 2013, although some potholes coming back.
After Langholm I stick to the A7, avoiding the little diversions around Canonbie, there's not enough traffic to make the main drag unpleasant and it will save a few minutes, and I want to get to Alston tonight.
The last drag from Longtown to Brampton seems to go on forever and it's getting dark as I pull into the familiar surroundings of the control.
30 minutes to get back on the road? No, by the time I've faffed with drop bag it will be longer, if I sleep here I don't have to haul a change of clothes over Yad Moss, and they've got plenty of beds whereas I've heard lots of intentions to push on to Alston - so that could be full (it wasn't). It's too tempting. I decide to stay but forget that the change of plan will have an effect on my start time.
I need a longer sleep after two short nights but havn't quite worked out the implications ... I arrived with nearly 10 hours in hand but spend nearly 8 hours in the control.
The haul to Alston is harder than I recall and I stop for a quick second breakfast before pushing on up Yad Moss. It's going well until near the top a group of Spaniards go past me at an insane speed: easily double what I was doing. Fighting for Strava segments after 900km maybe? A little further a tiny camper van is parked and it's an unexpected pleasure to see the legendary Drew Buck with whom I last rode on PBP 2015 doling out tea and flapjack.
On down towards Barney, being passed by a few riders from Bristol who I've met on previous rides.
I try to make it a quick one at the control but although I'm not as quick as I feel I ought to be I'm still out before the Spanish.
The wind is more helpful this time but brings some steady rain with it, and it's clearly not to the liking of the Spanish, because when I try self-mockingly to jump on to their peloton I succeed ! A few miles later I've rested up enough to take my turn at the front. Insane ! I thought from the way they blew past me on Yad Moss they must be at least semi-pro, but it's clear that they just are not used to the wet. Downhill and into a bend they'll have all the anchors out, so it's tricky to stay well positioned. There's another Brit who has infiltrated the group and after a while we pull away from them - but caught again before Thirsk.
Chatted to the Bristol boys again and offered to guide one of them on The Easingwold Variation (still sounds like a Robert Ludlum novel). I warn him about the traffic on the initial section of A9 but we decide that we can both suck it up in exchange for a flatter shorter route.
My drive train starts to make graunching noises as we try to get this bit over and done, and so we stop after the turn to add a bit of lube which seems to do the trick. It's an easy flat run from here down to Pock, and takes me nearly back to six hours in hand (although still nearly three hours behind where I'd planned)
I set off from Pock with a Bristolian group but we're soon split and my friend from the previous leg is kind enough to drop back and ride with me. We regroup at the bridge and again at the top of a hill just as starts to rain heavily. I tell them to go on as It's no fun waiting for a slower rider in the rain.
When the rain eases off I look up and the stars are out - millions of them visible, there is so little light pollution here. What's more I'm being blown uphill while freewheeling. It doesn't last of course. Five minutes later and the rain returns with a vengeance. Really sheeting down, bouncing off the road and being whipped by the wind into little mini-tornadoes. It's really nasty but there is no shelter and there is little option but to plod on, hold the bike agains the gusts, and hope there are no potholes under this river that used to be a road. Last time I was out in conditions like this was on the OMM 2008 (look for it on YouTube - and yes, I was one of the 1800 "unaccounted for")
The hills are not helping, I dare not drop into granny ring for fear of dropping the chain. I doubt I could see to put it back on. I'm passed by a few riders
and pass a few myself. but no one says anything. One Asian rider looks in a bad way, clearly wearing every stitch of clothing they possess and still suffering, but I don't have anything to offer them.even if I had the courage to stop. I dare not even think about the occasional graunching noises from the drive train which have returned.
I finally roll into a busy Louth control just after 2:30 am, the leg from Pocklington has taken an hour longer than I planned. Fortunately the contrrol has restocked with food and there are beds.
I ask for a 4:30 am wake-up in a bid to get back onto the 'plan' but in the end I go back to sleep until 5:30
In the shower I reach behind me and find a huge blister under my right "cheek" and a smaller one on the left. They break almost as soon as I touch them. Not good, this is going to HURT.
Ointments applied, and investigation by the controls mechanics suggests my BB is the cause of the noises, not the chain. Might buy a replacement if I see a suitable shop. I'm away by 6:30 (back to two hours in hand) planning to head straight down the main road to Horncastle before it gets busy. Except I fark it up and get on the Wragby road instead. I end up climbing to the very top of the Wolds before I can zag back again to rejoin the routesheet near Stenigot. Once back on the route it's another puncture, rear wheel this time. In with a tube pronto this time and on we go, cursing the double delay on a stage when I should have been able to make up time.
Now the wind is up and in my face so I try to jump on trains to keep my speed up. They all spit me out the back because as soon as I accelerate my arse hurts. Finally there's a bunch from Portsmouth. One of them I know from my second ever Audax back in 2011. They are kind enough to let me hang on until I've recovered enough to take token turns, and later contribute. We pick up a stray Frenchman along the way and offer him a place. He doubts his ability to hang on until I tell him we are only doing 18-20 kph into the wind.
After a short break in Spalding it's back into the wind which has got even stronger and taking turns our speed is down to 12kph at times !
We set up a rotating double line which a least keeps our minds occupied and maybe adds a little speed but it's hard to focus. Fortunately it's a short stage to St Ives, but we still need to stop at Whittlesey for an ice cream as the sun has come out.
Looking forward to the guided busway but for some reason I'm feeling queasy coming out of St Ives and can no longer hold the pace with the Portsmouth group (or indeed with anyone else that passes me). My GPS is playing up too, so determined to get though Cambridge in the daylight. Just succeed to stop at a shop in Shelford to get Frijj shake - which as usual settles things down nicely - but all these delays mean I'm shedding time - never climbing significantly above two hours in hand and now way off that wonderful 'plan'.
The lanes after Henham seem interminable, but there are familar faces (and great food, and real coffee) at Great Easton and it's not long before I agree to guide another machine (a tandem this time) on the 2013 route - there will be no traffic on the B187 at this time of night
We roll along gently through the early hours, setting the world to rights, happy to be out of the wind and confident we'll finish in time - and so it proved, although for one reason and another we were not half as quick as we should have been.
Pull in to Loughton with 115 hours elapsed. A little over an hour quicker than 2013. It's done.
Tail wind assisted I'm ahead of my personal schedule through St Ives & Spalding.
Still within minutes at Louth. Spent too long faffing with drop bag, deciding what items to leave and which to trake with me.
Good run - but then front wheel puncture 5km from Pock. Sealant (tubeless) holding at 20 psi so tried a CO2 - fail. Anchovy - and 2nd (and last) CO2 - only holds to 30psi. Limp into control and too tired to fix.
Spend ages trying to repair in a.m. but eventually give in and use a tube. Leave at 6:30 instead of planned 5:30
Plan to use the "The Easingwold Variation" to make back time - Too busy chatting with Texan 'bent rider and miss turning so Howardians it is.
Don't lose any time, but don't make it up either. And somewhere along the way an untidy gear change destroys my chain catcher so drops into the granny ring become risky. Still Thirsk to Barney is an easy stage, isn't it?
No, it f@rking isn't. It just alternates cross-wind with head-wind on and on forever. I'm really tired when I labour up the drive to the palace that is the new Barnard Castle control. Hear rumours about Louth & Spalding running out of food, so start to pay attention to where the 'bulge' is.
Yad Moss isn't as painful as I recall, apart from the very top where it's quite exposed to the wind.
Stop into Alston to check it out in anticipation of using it southbound - they are not officially open yet, but give me a cup of tea & choccy biccy anyway.
Onto Brampton where I arrive nearly two hours behind my schedule but still spend more time faffing with drop bag and leave with 10 hours in hand instead of the twelve & a bit that I'd planned. It's not too late though, so I press on up the tedious road through Longtown, across the border in the last glimmers of the daylight and onto the buzzy surface up though Lockerbie. The fatter tyres help and I make up a few minutes. Familiarity with Moffat enables me to tow a bunch of VC167 riders into the control - they'd normally be a whole lot faster than me.
So far I'm feeling OK, no serious aches & pains, and not feeling too tired, so cut back on planned sleep and leave just an hour behind my plan. The Devil's Beeftub is hidden in the early morning clag (it was 4 years ago too) and I grind up, still in the middle ring, the granny almost unused since the chain catcher went. I've emailed the controller at Edingburgh in the hope of getting another so fingers crossed. I hoon it down the other side to Broughton, forgetting just how undulating it is beyond. The surface after Blyth bridge is really shite and I swear out loud to myself and to any passing beastie. By the time I get to the cycle track at Roslyn I feel beaten up, and I'm just trundling along when an overweight OAP on a mountain bike behind me rings his bell to get me to move over to let him past. (the shame, the shame). He's a friendly bloke though and we ride a mile or two together chattiing before our paths diverge not far from the control.
The good news is that I've made up a little time, the bad is that chain catchers are available to fit every diameter downtube except mine. Ah well !
I recall the right turn on the hill in Lasswade so make sure I'm in the granny ring in plenty of time, but thereafter the route is a little different and I'm caught either in the wrong gear or with dropped chain a few times before the steady grind up into the Moorfoot hills.
Turning into the long false flat up the Dewar Burn we're into the headwind for real and it's a real grind. No trains to jump on - individual riders go past, but all too fast for the likes of me to catch a wheel.
Down the other side and it starts to rain. It's just a shower, is it?, no it's not. Stop and on with the Goretex for the 1st time. Plough on to Innerleithen where completely forget to pick up stickers from @middleagecyclist .
Back out in the dry and this stage really hurts - there are some bastard hills and they all have a headwind blowing straight down them - and no shelter from the Forestry which has all been trimmed back. Share the road briefly with a couple of the torpedo-shaped velomobiles. In this wind they are faster uphill than I am.
Finally we're on the last rise before the control and it really sarts to rain hard. Cold rain, almost sleet. There are a few more riders around me now (the bulge catching up ?) and I tease a couple of French riders about how much we Brits enjoy this weather.
Eskdalemuir is busy but welcoming and again I spend too long in the warm & dry.
Must get on - rain has passed and the surface seems to be in better shape than in 2013, although some potholes coming back.
After Langholm I stick to the A7, avoiding the little diversions around Canonbie, there's not enough traffic to make the main drag unpleasant and it will save a few minutes, and I want to get to Alston tonight.
The last drag from Longtown to Brampton seems to go on forever and it's getting dark as I pull into the familiar surroundings of the control.
30 minutes to get back on the road? No, by the time I've faffed with drop bag it will be longer, if I sleep here I don't have to haul a change of clothes over Yad Moss, and they've got plenty of beds whereas I've heard lots of intentions to push on to Alston - so that could be full (it wasn't). It's too tempting. I decide to stay but forget that the change of plan will have an effect on my start time.
I need a longer sleep after two short nights but havn't quite worked out the implications ... I arrived with nearly 10 hours in hand but spend nearly 8 hours in the control.
The haul to Alston is harder than I recall and I stop for a quick second breakfast before pushing on up Yad Moss. It's going well until near the top a group of Spaniards go past me at an insane speed: easily double what I was doing. Fighting for Strava segments after 900km maybe? A little further a tiny camper van is parked and it's an unexpected pleasure to see the legendary Drew Buck with whom I last rode on PBP 2015 doling out tea and flapjack.
On down towards Barney, being passed by a few riders from Bristol who I've met on previous rides.
I try to make it a quick one at the control but although I'm not as quick as I feel I ought to be I'm still out before the Spanish.
The wind is more helpful this time but brings some steady rain with it, and it's clearly not to the liking of the Spanish, because when I try self-mockingly to jump on to their peloton I succeed ! A few miles later I've rested up enough to take my turn at the front. Insane ! I thought from the way they blew past me on Yad Moss they must be at least semi-pro, but it's clear that they just are not used to the wet. Downhill and into a bend they'll have all the anchors out, so it's tricky to stay well positioned. There's another Brit who has infiltrated the group and after a while we pull away from them - but caught again before Thirsk.
Chatted to the Bristol boys again and offered to guide one of them on The Easingwold Variation (still sounds like a Robert Ludlum novel). I warn him about the traffic on the initial section of A9 but we decide that we can both suck it up in exchange for a flatter shorter route.
My drive train starts to make graunching noises as we try to get this bit over and done, and so we stop after the turn to add a bit of lube which seems to do the trick. It's an easy flat run from here down to Pock, and takes me nearly back to six hours in hand (although still nearly three hours behind where I'd planned)
I set off from Pock with a Bristolian group but we're soon split and my friend from the previous leg is kind enough to drop back and ride with me. We regroup at the bridge and again at the top of a hill just as starts to rain heavily. I tell them to go on as It's no fun waiting for a slower rider in the rain.
When the rain eases off I look up and the stars are out - millions of them visible, there is so little light pollution here. What's more I'm being blown uphill while freewheeling. It doesn't last of course. Five minutes later and the rain returns with a vengeance. Really sheeting down, bouncing off the road and being whipped by the wind into little mini-tornadoes. It's really nasty but there is no shelter and there is little option but to plod on, hold the bike agains the gusts, and hope there are no potholes under this river that used to be a road. Last time I was out in conditions like this was on the OMM 2008 (look for it on YouTube - and yes, I was one of the 1800 "unaccounted for")
The hills are not helping, I dare not drop into granny ring for fear of dropping the chain. I doubt I could see to put it back on. I'm passed by a few riders
and pass a few myself. but no one says anything. One Asian rider looks in a bad way, clearly wearing every stitch of clothing they possess and still suffering, but I don't have anything to offer them.even if I had the courage to stop. I dare not even think about the occasional graunching noises from the drive train which have returned.
I finally roll into a busy Louth control just after 2:30 am, the leg from Pocklington has taken an hour longer than I planned. Fortunately the contrrol has restocked with food and there are beds.
I ask for a 4:30 am wake-up in a bid to get back onto the 'plan' but in the end I go back to sleep until 5:30
In the shower I reach behind me and find a huge blister under my right "cheek" and a smaller one on the left. They break almost as soon as I touch them. Not good, this is going to HURT.
Ointments applied, and investigation by the controls mechanics suggests my BB is the cause of the noises, not the chain. Might buy a replacement if I see a suitable shop. I'm away by 6:30 (back to two hours in hand) planning to head straight down the main road to Horncastle before it gets busy. Except I fark it up and get on the Wragby road instead. I end up climbing to the very top of the Wolds before I can zag back again to rejoin the routesheet near Stenigot. Once back on the route it's another puncture, rear wheel this time. In with a tube pronto this time and on we go, cursing the double delay on a stage when I should have been able to make up time.
Now the wind is up and in my face so I try to jump on trains to keep my speed up. They all spit me out the back because as soon as I accelerate my arse hurts. Finally there's a bunch from Portsmouth. One of them I know from my second ever Audax back in 2011. They are kind enough to let me hang on until I've recovered enough to take token turns, and later contribute. We pick up a stray Frenchman along the way and offer him a place. He doubts his ability to hang on until I tell him we are only doing 18-20 kph into the wind.
After a short break in Spalding it's back into the wind which has got even stronger and taking turns our speed is down to 12kph at times !
We set up a rotating double line which a least keeps our minds occupied and maybe adds a little speed but it's hard to focus. Fortunately it's a short stage to St Ives, but we still need to stop at Whittlesey for an ice cream as the sun has come out.
Looking forward to the guided busway but for some reason I'm feeling queasy coming out of St Ives and can no longer hold the pace with the Portsmouth group (or indeed with anyone else that passes me). My GPS is playing up too, so determined to get though Cambridge in the daylight. Just succeed to stop at a shop in Shelford to get Frijj shake - which as usual settles things down nicely - but all these delays mean I'm shedding time - never climbing significantly above two hours in hand and now way off that wonderful 'plan'.
The lanes after Henham seem interminable, but there are familar faces (and great food, and real coffee) at Great Easton and it's not long before I agree to guide another machine (a tandem this time) on the 2013 route - there will be no traffic on the B187 at this time of night
We roll along gently through the early hours, setting the world to rights, happy to be out of the wind and confident we'll finish in time - and so it proved, although for one reason and another we were not half as quick as we should have been.
Pull in to Loughton with 115 hours elapsed. A little over an hour quicker than 2013. It's done.
LOL After more excellent TLC I set out by myself on an alternative to the official route to skip Toot Hill and arrive via Epping. At the Arrivee more friendly faces and a beer were waiting!
I told the story to a guy after this, and he said that he forgot to even pack them, made me feel a bit better 
