A Welsh C2C - XDUROWales18

A sharp climb up a narrow lane flanked by rambling dry stone walls leads up to a basin over which old slate workings loom. Zigzag tracks scythe across the mountain side. Bikes are handed over a locked steel gate and the climb is on. 

Menai Bridge start line

This is the Racing Collective's XDUROWales18, nearly 200 miles of mixed terrain riding between the Menai Bridge and Cardiff waterfront. We'll take two days to complete it, that's if our bikes, backsides and tyres hold out. There's 1700 feet of climbing in the first ten miles today, this is looking like a decent challenge.

The pace of our small group is sociable enough and after 10 minutes or so we round a hairpin to a small terrace littered with blue slate from which we have a commanding view of Llanberis and the lakeside slate workings. I roll off down the descent and my 40mm tyres are soon throwing shards of slate out behind me creating a  cracking sound,  the temptation to speed over it is intoxicating. I hear a shout behind me, Nige Smith’s rear tyre is spewing sealant from a long rip in the sidewalk. We stop and fix it, the first casualty of many in our group. Tyres fixed and we descend towards the lake with considerably more care. From a viewpoint further down we stop to soak up the vista; Llanberis nestles beside the deep blue lake at the head of which a turret of abandoned Slate works sits to thevleft of the main road.

Riding with Nige we tick off Llanberis pass, the A5 and a hike-a-bike climb. We’re making good progress now and it’s not long before we pass the Centre for Alternative Technology on a quiet leafy lane that I recognise from my last visit here. We’ve dropped out of Snowdonia into mid-Wales but the climbs keep coming, the last of the day is the longest. Sharp kicks give way to false summits as I slowly head to wards the head of the horseshoe shaped valley . The road runs out and I drop down a brief descent to a forestry track along which a rally car is speeding towards me. Fortunately the track is wide enough for the car to slide past a leaving a trail of choking white dust. 

Emerging from the top of the forest the track undulates across high moorland to an isolated reservoir before dropping down to Daf’s farm where we’re bivvying tonight. He's a great host providing a hot shower, good food, a bottle of beer and a bonfire. The next morning he puts on an impressive breakfast spread of porridge, sausages and eggs. Just what we need to fuel another 8000 feet of climbing, much of it off-road. I notice more wildlife today, a young fox plays with its shadow ahead of us on a gravel climb whilst further on a red kite picks through a sheep carcass in a quarry for its breakfast. Two 4x4s are parked up miles from a road on a beach beside the Claerwen reservoir high in the Elan valley whilst their drivers fish in the deep blue water.

An energy sapping section of hike-a-bike soon follows, thirsty horse flies keep us moving over a lumpy watershed but we’re suffering in the heat. Sweat streams down my face on the climbs and I need to stop and re-hydrate by midday. We briefly escape the glare of the sun in a filling station but we can’t hide for long, it’s another 65 miles to Cardiff. Next stop Brecon town, but not before we’ve climbed  a lengthy ramp up onto the MOD training grounds which mark the start of the Brecon Beacons. Miles ahead of us is a  gap in the ridge through which we are soon climbing on the last timed segment of the day. It’s loose and rocky in places, my bike is thrown off line repeatedly as I wrestle the bars to keep it moving, the final ramp and hairpin are completed on foot. The descent to Merthyr Tydfil would be quick on a mountain bike but the loose rocks brake my progress, a ripped tyre here in the 30 degree heat would be more than inconvenient.

Thats the last timed segment completed, it's pretty much downhill to Cardiff from here, we wind our way down the valley dodging the main road. This is the Welsh valleys, townships built around the mines that powered British industry for decades. Today kebab shops, salons and and bookies occupy the streets where butchers, grocers and bakers once kept the industrial machine moving. A former railway line leads us into Cardiff past swimmers in the river and couples soaking up the unusually hot sun in a park. Our north-south C2C is done; we've seen many different incarnations of Wales- the post industrial south reached via the mountains of Brecon, the rounded hills of mid Wales our reward for surviving the slate of Snowdonia. A proper journey and another land whose familiarity we've earned. 

Thanks to @theracingcollective for photos, get involved at www.theracingcollective.com

Crossduro Oxford #XDO17

Inflated entry fees, prizes from the bargain bin, crowds and habitual nihilism. Just a few of the reasons why I don't enter many races. That's not to say that I don't like a challenge though, which is why the Racing Collective's web site caught my eye one dark winter evening. Their events looked like a real challenge whilst remaining low key. It seemed obvious, set a route, let Strava handle the timing and tracking, publicise through a Strava club and enjoy. No sponsors, no permissions and no paperwork. This is proper amateur racing; push on and enjoy but accept that none of us are getting called up by Team GB any time soon. Post race craic over a beer or two and ride home. 

I had pencilled in the Racing Collective's Trans Wales event in the spring but as the weekend approached I couldn't sort out logistics or justify another weekend away on the bike. A couple of months later in June XDO17 (Crossduro Oxford) looked feasible if I rode there and at least some of the way back. This was why I found myself in my garage staring at a pile of kit more suited to a polar expedition than a summer weekend in England. I pared it down to the point where everything including a change of clothes for eating out fitted in a couple of Apidura bags. I wasn't very keen on carting it all round the event but decided that a dose of #bemoremike* was probably required.

 

Friday dawned sunny and my route south through the Peak District was hilly but rewarding. Riding the Strines I chased the scent of sausages cooked by workmen on a roadside barbecue. At Tideswell bunting was out for the traditional well dressings and between bright limestone walls at Miller's Dale I picked up signs for that most traditional of cycle events; L'Eroica. Up the hill I found the Tissington Trail and began a thirteen mile descent into Ashbourne on smooth dazzling white limestone gravel. It was easy to imagine trains steaming down here as I cruised under narrow stone bridges between deep cuttings. I rolled along high embankments enjoying the panoramic views of the White Peak's steep sided dales and vales. 

BANG. 

Crumple. 

What the?!? 

On the floor and confused, I lie there for a few seconds trying to work out what just happened, I push myself up using the arm that doesn't hurt and check the bike. Both wheels are ok and the freehub is turning which confuses me because I was stopped dead by something.

Later in the day I decide I must have struck a pedal on a small curb in the shade under the trees. I'm bleeding so I stop in Ashbourne and get cleaned up in the Leisure Centre. 

From Ashbourne leafy meandering lanes make their way south towards my destination. The roads are quiet save for brief excursions onto the A50 and A5 and my old friend the Fosse Way is soon found. Eventually I reach Banbury and the final twenty or so mile in to Oxford. Reminding myself to conserve effort for the next day I roll into Oxford in plenty of time to find a good Italian meal and take a wander round Oxford's sights. 

 

After an interrupted night's sleep at the YHA (I have to put in earplugs at 2AM to block out my snoring bunkmate), I enjoy breakfast with a bunch of French school teachers. Slipping through Oxford's finest architecture on my bike just before 8am is magical, there's very little traffic and the morning light is bouncing off windows to illuminate ornate stonework. Our meeting point and start is the most ornate of buildings, the Radcliffe Camera. It's a relief to see other riders already there and introductions and photos soon follow. 

The Crossduro format is more social than many races in that only five short sections are timed, the rest of the ride can be more social. Our group of ten or so ride out together along the riverside greenways to the first segment. And... GO! Well that's not quite what happened. I set off up the first hill at a reserved pace, I'm running Strava on my phone to follow the route and as this is a starred segment it changes from route finding mode to "red mist" mode telling me how far off the fastest rider I am. This is great except the map has disappeared and there's a fork in the trail. I take the wrong fork and everyone behind follows. Not a great start, or a very clever way to make new friends.

Back on course we regroup at the top of the climb and ride on at social pace, leafy hedgerows and ripe fields of maize line the quiet lanes we ride between quaint villages. Idyllic road riding and plenty of time to get to know my fellow racers. Soon we reach the next segment, up from the flat chalk plains on to the Ridgeway where we enjoy commanding panoramic views of Didcot and Oxford. Very different to the Pennine terrain I know at home, its rewarding to know that I've pedalled all the way here. 

There are five segments in total and I blow two of them by taking wrong turns and puncturing on the sharp flint of the Ridgeway. I take a hard tumble on a third by over estimating the frictional quotient of dry chalk and getting very cross rutted. Blood looks good on chalk and my injuries are  fortunately superficial. The sun reaches its zenith and everyone is running low on water, a stop in the pretty Thameside town of Goring allows everyone a chance to rehydrate and enjoy cake. A love of cake and bikes definitely unites all of us today. The social pace between segments lets my thoughts wander to reflect on how fortunate we are to be here today. Many of us were strangers at 8am this morning and yet a common love of the freedom of bicycles and the outdoors are enough to bring us together in shared enjoyment of this experience.

After our our cafe stop comes the #bemoremike* segment, a mile long corridor of mech clogging grass overhung my brambles and choked by nettles that grab arms and clothing as we pass. I emerge bleeding from both elbows with legs tingling from the nettle stings. A souvenir of today's adventure. We finish together at the Isis public house down on the river Thames, friendly bar staff offer to take photos and then it's time for me to leave if I'm to make it to Rugeley tonight. Hunched forward on TT bars for the next few hours there is plenty of time to mourn the cold pint I turned down at the Isis. 

*#bemoremike - a reference to toughing it out in the spirit of adventure racer Mike Hall who was sadly killed whilst racing earlier this year

The Capital Trail

“The best 18 hours I’ve spent on a bike” came to mind during whatever subconscious cogitation Monday's early morning dog walk on the local moor had triggered. It wasn't until Monday morning after a full night's sleep that I had fully appreciated the awesomeness of the previous weekend's adventures. 

Step up Mr Stitz, fess up and take credit for:

1. Arranging for the Scottish summer to coincide with the Capital Trail 2017 
2. Sending the midges away for the weekend
3. Stitching together a varied and interesting multi terrain route
4. Timing it for the chip stop to still be open in Peebles

Ok, so we were lucky (again) with the Scottish weather but this really had been a great day's riding. Markus Stitz (organiser of the Capital Trail and other Scottish bike packing events) must have spent years searching out and linking trails to make this route. 

Saul and I had travelled up Friday afternoon, eaten Italian in Musselburgh and slept in a posh garden shed at Wallyford campsite. It was the usual early start to get to the start line on Saturday but less adrenaline than usual, we were here to enjoy this one and racing would be shelved for another weekend. 

Down at the start line a breakfast of hot rolls, coffee and orange juice was enjoyed overlooking the Firth of Forth at Portobello beach. A tractor was out combing and tidying the soft sand of the beach, meanwhile many of us riders took a minute to remember Mike Hall who's ashes had recently made it back to his heartland in mid Wales. 

 

The start of the event was beautifully relaxed, all fifty four riders rode as far as they could on the soft sand, shoved up on to the promenade and lazily span off towards Musselburgh. Once off the prom Saul and I picked up the pace along the greenway from Musselburgh out under the East Coast Railway and Edinburgh ring road into a housing estate, up to a large country estate and onto woodland single track. From here we enjoyed single track, old railway lines, narrow country roads and estate tracks up into the hills south of Edinburgh. Flowering gorse, buttercups, cow parsley and lush green grass everywhere. It was like the saturation filter had been turned up to the max on our surroundings, the colours around us were bright and vibrant under clear blue skies and this was a Scotland that I was unfamiliar with - used only to dull green under leaden skies, not this new technicolour version. It really was a privilege to be riding these hills on a day like this. 

We climbed high on estate roads over bilberry and heather covered moorland only to descend raucously into forded burns and grind back up quad searing climbs to the moorland plateau under the metronomic revolutions of wind turbines. Good times indeed.

Eventually we dropped down a long valley back towards civilisation taking in main road, more single track and ancient drove roads into Melrose. Gnarly single track alongside the River Tweed was great fun, Saul was as usual riding every flight of steps, I was more cautious. A particularly tricky set of steps saw Saul performing an emergency dismount and his treasured Yeti bouncing down head over heels to land on the rocks beside the Tweed. A two man recovery effort ensued followed by the realisation that the front brake lever was bent double and dangling under the wheel; broken lever clamp. Was that game over we wondered? 

I like the challenge of trail-side repairs, a couple of hefty cable ties were dragged from my toolkit to lash the broken clamp back on the handlebars. It wasn't ideal but it put us back in the game, or back on route at least.

Following a brief refuel in Selkirk (water and fresh croissants) we slogged our way up to the Three Brethren. Three big piles of stones with a commanding view of Selkirk, I had plenty of time to savour the view before we surfed the ridge with a tail wind towards Innerleithen. Cresting a ridge after a few miles I spotted a familiar sign, "7 Stanes Red". Several miles of fantastic trail centre descent wound sinuously across the hill dropping us back into the Tweed valley where we refuelled at the Co-op. I made friends with a small dog tied up outside the shop after sharing one of my now bruised homemade burritos with it whilst Saul ate cheese sandwiches.

 

From Innerleithen we rode south into a stiff headwind past Traquair house and up onto the rounded heather clad moors south of Peebles. At the end of the estate track we faced a route choice, hike-a-bike straight on or ride round to the left. We opted for the hike-a-bike straight up onto the moor but unfortunately the steep track petered out leaving us wading though thigh deep heather on soft mossy lumps. The track marked on the map at the top of the climb was overgrown with heather and unrideable, so we spent an an hour getting back onto a rideable track. We were both questioning the point of this diversion, half an hour later midway down the descent into Gypsy Glen it was obvious. This descent ROCKED!!! Smooth dry peatland gave way to close cropped meadow and finally woodland at Gypsy Glen. Better than many of the Glentress downhills and yet neglected by the hundreds of MTB'ers pouring into that Trail Centre. We weren't complaining, for twenty minutes we owned the place.

From Peebles we enjoyed familiar trails in Glentress, it was after 8pm so we had the descents to ourselves, a rare privilege. Back in Peebles I spotted an open chippy and treated us both to a portion of salt and vinegar laden chips, I didn't know how tough the rest of the route might be, but chips could only help see us though into the wee small hours. 

Old drove roads led us out of Peebles and across more moorland, a few steep climbs reminded us that this wasn't meant to be easy, but generally the going was good. I chased a badger down a grassy descent and the sun dropped beyond the horizon. The moon rose to share its milky hue with all who were still pedalling at this hour. Shortly after midnight we climbed into the Pentlands, these were right on the edge of Edinburgh yet still wild and beautiful. We looped though this cluster of rounded hills before dropping into the west side of Edinburgh following various tributaries down to the Firth of Forth. Sensing the finish line we picked up the pace here spinning fast in top gear on the promenade alongside the sea as an orange glow brightened the eastern skies ahead of us. A diversion into Edinburgh along sunken railways gave us a flavour of the Victorian city before looping us back on to the promenade and into Portobello beach. A few minutes later Andreas Shäffer rolled in behind us and took our photo. Just the six miles back to the campsite and sleep would be mine. 

Stats

173 miles including ride in from Musselburgh

17371 feet of climbing

16 hours and 5 minutes moving time 

Gear Used

Cannondale F29er

Apidura bags

Exposure lights

#Festive500 in Five

Christmas isn't just about tinsel and a long Doctor Who suggests Philomena Cunk in her own Christmas special for BBC2. No, the cycling cognoscenti take advantage of quieter roads and time off work to get a head start on preparation for a new season of sportives, sprints and crits. It's a great opportunity to have a social ride and the perfect excuse to leave the house on those days when staying in bed might seem like a better idea. 

#1

Christmas Eve falls on a Saturday in 2016 so I'm off work and can get a good length ride in with the fast boys at Holmfirth Cycling Club (HCC). It's one of the windier days left in 2016 so the company of a group ride is appreciated. The HCC fast group have a ride planned pretty much every day for the #Festive500, today's will lead east towards Pontefract with a stop for cake at the Womersley Blue Lagoon dive cafe.  The strong westerly is down to winter storm Barbara and she blows us up the climb from New Mill to the Sovereign crossroads and rapidly east past Barnsley and Wintersett. It's only when we reach the A19 and turn north that that we really notice the strength of the wind, and on turning west towards Womersley we are working hard in pairs to make progress across the exposed flatlands.  

RAF plane at the Blue Lagoon

The Blue Lagoon is a dive cafe in every sense, it sits in a Portacabin in a car park next to an uninviting pool of grey water presumably frequented by scuba enthusiasts on days warmer than today. Today the cafe is occupied by a couple of dogs, a large ginger cat and the aroma of stale cigarettes. Still, it's the first time I've received change from £2 at a cafe stop and there is soon smoke pouring from the grill in the kitchen as cooked food is prepared for our table. The cat is polite enough to wait until we've finished before jumping on the table to tidy up bacon scraps. The return home is a slog into Barbara's teeth, we only manage a couple of miles each on the front before retiring to catch our breath at the back. We haven't been looking forward to this part of the ride, riding out on a tail wind is a bit like riding down a massive hill in the knowledge that you've got to ride back up to the top to finish your ride. Everyone gets stuck in and eventually we've made it back to the Sovereign junction from where it's downhill to home. 132km done, 368 remaining.

Christmas Day is a busy one so I do Park Run in Huddersfield, this doesn't count so I'm now dreaming up ways of making sure I ride the distance (ride to Scotland and back anybody...?)

#2

Tandem action - hands free stoker

By Boxing Day Barbara has given up and been usurped by winter storm Conor, he's not much better and appears to dislike tandem teams. I head out anyway with my eldest boy who is complaining of sore legs after giving it the berries at Park Run on Christmas Day. It's only our second ride on the borrowed Cannondale tandem but we're getting it together as a team and the traffic light track stands are impressive. Arran's sore legs subside as we keep it easy on the Calder and Spen valley greenways although we are forced into an emergency Costa stop for hot chocolate as he runs low on fuel and enthusiasm. 
Post hot chocolate we've picked up a couple of mph and smiles have returned. Another 55km done, 313km remaining. 

#3

 Tuesday sees Arran and I up early for a trip to the Llandegla MTB trail centre to meet up with friends for a couple of laps. En route we collect regular mountain biking accomplice Andrew before driving west across the Cheshire plain to the wooded slopes of Llandegla. I'm looking forward to a second ride on my Cannondale Habbit, I normally ride without suspension so I'm interested to see if the trail centre will be more fun with suspended wheels. It always takes longer than expected to hustle the large group of adults and kids in the direction of the trails but we get there and drag everyone to the trailhead. Hoar frost adorns the grass and the normally grippy hardpack trail is made treacherous by the water turned ice dropped by the wheels of the early bird riders. I'm also trying to scrub in a pair of  new Nobby Nics which is tricky riding on ice, needless to say it's a bit steady until we reach the wooded sections which have been saved from the previous night's frost by their heavy green cloak of needles.

It's rare to get a clear run at a section of trail on a day as popular as today but when I do the Habbit flatters, messing up the landing from a jump or drop off ceases to worry, the suspension and lazy geometry lap it up without drama but it's on the climbs where I'm surprised by the ease with which it flies upwards. I'd always been under the impression that full suspension bikes don't climb well, not this one. Arran gets a ride on the Habbit after an al fresco cafe lunch of beans on toast so I take his single speed which is no hardship, fortunately he returns the Habbit in time for the big drop offs of the final free ride section. By mid-afternoon he is exhausted and it's time to head home to clean the bikes by torchlight. Today's 28km may not sound like much but there's more to the #Festive500 than pure distance, it's the people and places along the way that make the endeavour worthwhile. 

#4

285km remain and my cunning plan is to ride most of them today on a long loop out to the Humber Bridge and back. I wake up before my alarm to get a fifteen minute head start on the day but opening the bedroom blind reveals a familiar mosaic of thick ice; it's going to be one of those deep winter base layer days. I have the roads to myself at this hour and spinning up the Holme valley towards Honley I'm glad to have made the effort today. The temperature lifts towards the positive as I climb out of the Holme valley but it soon plunges back below freezing as I pass Barnsley. This part of my route is familiar having ridden it last July to reach the Humber Bridge on the first leg of a 400 miler. Today I'm aiming for the south side of the bridge rather than the north so I veer away from the familiar near Doncaster to slog out what feels like a hundred miles on the straight as an arrow A18, it's actually only ten miles before I can turn off on to some back roads to dodge Scunthorpe. Dodging Scunthorpe is definitely a good plan, instead I find quiet back roads winding through picturesque villages and there's even a bit of climbing to break up the grinding monotony of the flat roads I've been stuck on for a couple of hours. 

Eventually the twin towers of the Humber Bridge come into view and I'm soon stopped mid-span for some homemade flapjack and a few photos, the scale of the bridge still impresses on this, my third crossing on two wheels. On the north side of the bridge I negotiate the cycle ways to find my route north past Beverley. I've haven't ridden much in East Yorkshire and I'm pleasantly surprised by the scenery and gently undulating lanes. The sun lazily skims the horizon at this time of year, the payoff is dramatic light at every turn, the photo opportunities are many but I need to keep these wheels turning if I'm going to make it back home this afternoon. Turning right down a steep lane between dense hedgerows is the surprise highlight of today's ride, the lane follows the base of a narrow, steep sided valley. The scenery reminds me of the South Downs, only minor panic as my back wheel locks up on the hoar frost mars the serenity of the moment as the lane winds down the dale. Eventually I climb up to follow more lanes towards Pockington where I stop at the Co-Op for a croissant and a water refill. From here it is nearly flat all the way to Rothwell, but I am treated to a beautiful sunset south of York. When I finally reach Dewsbury riding through the late rush hour traffic is in stark contrast to the empty roads I've enjoyed for much of the day but these local roads are the quickest route home. Today's 280km take me within 5km of completion. One more ride remains.

Sunset near York

#5

New Year's Eve dawns as I return to Holmfirth for the final Holmfirth Cycling Club ride of the week. This time we climb south out of Holmfirth towards the knarly ten miles known as 'Strines'; the steep twisty descents and climbs of the Strines are frequently strewn with gravel and require full concentration. Riding them in the southerly direction is easier, a popular choice today as it's been a big week for the time of year. A cafe stop at Tideswell is followed by the return ride which skirts western Sheffield through Stocksbridge culminating in a slog past Penistone into a strong headwind. Turns up front are brief but everyone pitches in to get us home for the evening festivities. Another 117km completed, my Croix de Fer is rinsed, lubed and racked in my shed for another day. By midnight I've resolved to ride another #Festive500 in 2017. Now where's that bottle of Ardbeg, I'll drink to that.

Dusk near Rothwell