*no placenames have been used in this report so no spoilers for the November crew.
I get pretty fed up with the comparison between bike packing, unsupported racing and life - especially work. "It teaches me resilience for my job" Bollocks. If your job ever puts you in the hole I am in now -you need to leave and get a new job.
I wanted to get a blue badge this year. In the (all of 2 weeks) build-up between my last race and this one, I set my heart on a blue badge. I have 2 green ones already.
Last week I sat at my computer to figure out the time gaps between "aid stations"- or as we call it in the self-supported world - every village offering a food source. I worked it out for 3 speeds - 28 hours for a blue badge (6.8km/hr), 6km/hr usual Trep speed and the 36 hours time limit for a Green again (5.4km/hr).
• • •
There was nothing else for it. I'd have to ride my long legs off to make the petrol station in time for closing. My best plan was to carry a dehydrated meal for dinner & hope to top it up with hot water from the petrol station coffee machine, not cold. I left the stove behind and pared down to a top tube bag and minimalist seat pack. I still took a tarp, lightest sleeping bag and mat - despite my temptation to throw caution to the wind. I know it gets dark and revolting when I have no quality sleep.
It felt too easy at first. I met Tom coming the other way at the top of a road climb - which alerted me to my wrong turn. He's right, I do owe him beer.
Nelson and Hannah soon caught and passed me. I wouldn't see any of them again.
Finally we turned off road and I instantly regretted not switching to grippier tyres until I got used to my racing tyres and thanked myself later for sticking with the lightweight option (as I pushed the bike uphill and needed to lift it over fences).
At the next descent, torrents of water paid testimony to 3 days rain just-passed as spray peeled off the tyres and onto my legs. I went in for the gaiters and they stayed on until lunchtime when they got too warm to tolerate.
• • •
Cath caught me up on the way into town and I started off by almost leading her the wrong way then calling her Fiona all day. Sorry!
We spent the cruel detour chatting as much as we could, debating loss of layers. We did some bike-sitting outside the shops as John (see later) popped in to buy his lunch, then Cath and I set off together for a while. One steep push-up and all my cyclocross training separated us again as Jay and Mart/k(?) caught up to take the reins. We switched around the order of things as I passed them faffing or snacking and they were faster on the bike.
• • •
Eventually a steep climb left me just taking time to walk while I ate some food - partly so the eating was easier, partly to get a rest from my saddle. My mates disappeared over the hill, only for me to catch them again. They were filling water bottles by a river. The moon was rising behind. There should have been a kiss. I thought we were nearly at the pub so I'd wait to fill my water bottle there.
We weren't nearly at the pub.
Landmarks came & went. There was no pub. Another rider caught me as I faffed. Sorry dude I never got your name. He was younger, fitter, more gravelly. Then there were 4 of us for awhile, and just as quickly our young friend pulled away, as did Jay, chasing the closing times at the pub. There was a lot of hungry struggling from all of us.
I arrived at the petrol station to our young friend eating, Jay & Mark/t heading up to the pub and then John arrived. (I have no idea what his name is so John will have to do). There were 3 of us again.
We debated whether the others would make it out of the pub.
I brewed up my dehydrated curry which was fantastically shit. Sorry Firepot, it didn't hydrate on just 400ml and I couldn't be arsed to fetch more water. It was ridiculously spicy for an adventure meal. No.
Half of it got packed in case I needed it later then I regretted carrying it, it was so bad. I enjoyed coffee a bag of crisps so stocked up on some other stuff before setting off again with John just behind me.
• • •
I mused on my plan - were there really, as I remembered, lots of road miles between here & the next stop? Probably not but I thought, maybe. I piled on leg warmers - my waterproof coat for extra warmth and set off.
Of course just as Cath (Fi) arrived, we were ready to go. We wished her well.
There weren't more road miles We were on a bridleway - in a field. The road wasn't far away - so close that when I hit it I called out "not far" to John behind me. He passed me in the forest with a "What brings you here at this time of night?" As the stream ran down the path we were walking on I responded with "the water, I just fucking love the stuff" He offered to help me lift my bike over the fallen tree but I was resolutely purist, admitting I'd have said yes had we been on a fun event and not a personal ITT "challenge". I slung the bike under and just about managed to un-wedge the Jones bars from the fallen trunk whilst I scissor-kicked my legs over.
Onto the steepest of descents. My pal had ridden ahead. At the top the tyre track was so deep in the gully I could crawl either side on my knees.
In the middle I cursed Stu. This wasn't any good for tall people at midnight as the trees whipped my helmet. Then I remembered I had a dropper post which helped a person of almost 6ft a little better.
At the bottom the slope threatened to tip me over - thank god for the dropper post.
I dealt with the chill by keeping turning the pedals on the road section. I knew where I was and there was a flat grassy patch ahead I'd scoped to sleep in if I was desperate but I wasn't desperate enough as it was too open and breezy. I reasoned that there might be somewhere lower down (but before I reached "The Fog") that would be warmer and out of the wind. I had my eye on the shelter of some bracken and briars.
Climbing up the mountain road I let a few drivers pass as this is rural Wales and you never know how drunk/high people are at midnight. The second guy turned off at my exit from the road, parked up and turned his lights off. I rode past as quickly and discretely as I could hoping I wouldn't by mauled by released dogs or joy-ridden off the route. My plan to pitch up for a sleep was being scuppered by the thought of a rogue 4WD rolling through my pitch at 2am.
The route detangled into a stream of ruts and puddles. I fell in one and when I went to put my foot down there was nothing there and my whole body weight pitched onto one hand. There was a lot of swearing and one soggy hip as I tried to wrestle myself upright again.
Just then I noticed my water bite value starting to leak. I did the best I could to stow it away from my shorts but my left leg was soaked again.
As we descended into town, I felt a cold drip of water run straight down my bum crack from the spray off my back wheel. What kind of fresh hell? Though I was actually impressed that the shorts had done this good a job at keeping me dry so far. I stopped and added my goretex trousers over the knee warmers, hoping that my body would push the trapped moisture out into the cold night air. I'd noticed the temperature inversion at the petrol station and the valleys were only starting to get colder. By the time we approached town, I couldn't face camping low down away from the Bridleway so thought I'd push on through. By the time I reached John snacking, I was hell-bent on reaching the town at the bottom of the valley and climbing back out again as soon as possible. I checked he was OK and continued on. It was the last time I'd see him.
I wasn't really OK though. I was a bit sleepy and I also recognised that if I were going to carry on I'd need to wear my insulating layer to ride on. When I saw a sign for public toilets, I felt like all my prayers had been answered.
Tentatively I tried the door on the ladies'. Not only were they open, it felt so warm inside. I set my bike against the wall, folded the baby change station back and sat down on my sit mat. Perfect. Wrapped in my sleeping bag I fell asleep with a bar of chocolate in hand, my head wedged between the cubicle wall and the baby-change table. At some point the motion sensor reset and the lights went out. I grabbed my pillow & blew that up but couldn't be bothered with my mat. It was too much effort and thought it'd look worse to have blown up a camping mat if I was disturbed and moved on. I tried lying down with my bum on my sit mat but it was too cold and uncomfy on the tile floor so I sat up again and used the pillow to prop up my knees so they didn't feel locked-out. I slept a little more, only being disturbed by someone else leaving the gents next door and I wondered if it was John. My alarm went off at 3 am and I stayed in my makeshift bed a little longer - consuming the breakfast I had carried with me all day - which was very satisfying compared to chocolate and crisps.
Before I left I tried my new toothpaste tablets but was too lazy to dig out my toothbrush. I was pretty disappointed that the chalky, flouring lumps just stuck to my teeth uselessly and I probably swallowed more of it than I should have.
• • •
I redressed in my goretex trousers for warmth and tried on my highland trail Marigolds for extra hand warmth but they were too tight to fit over my long finger gloves - good job it didn't rain. I had liner gloves with me that did a great job of making my hands feel warmer and I tore into the warmer pads I'd packed at the last minute on Friday night - putting one in each of my gloves and my waterproof socks.
There were a few cars still moving around town - people coming home from clubs in Aber, I guess, or going to work. I passed through town and onto yet another steep bridleway, constantly looking out for the haematite-coloured glow of a lightening sky in the East. It didn't come soon enough to stop my second wave of sleepiness The toothpaste incident had left me feeling somewhat sick and I didn't dare drink any more of the half-empty bottle of coke in case it ended in some kind of volcano effect. Eventually I decided to try it out and stop for a turbo kip while the sun came up and/or I vomited.
This time I got my Tyvek out to lay on the damp grass and threw my tarp over me like a makeshift bivi. I put the sit mat under my bum and just used my helmet as a pillow. I was warm enough in all the layers I was still wearing from town and by elevation I was above the temperature inversion.
I didn't need a second alarm, the birds started singing above me.
• • •
Crows were caw-ing and a red kite mewled overhead. When I opened my eyes the sun was already rising. I got moving again, getting joined by a much faster rider who gleefully told me he'd had a luxurious sleep in his little tent, then he was gone as I continued to deal with night demons and my dodgy tummy.
One thing that was reassuring me was the passage of kms. No matter how rubbish I was feeling, 70 soon turned into 30km to go and I started to believe that a sub-28 hour finish was possible.
I constantly recalculated. Going up hills it didn't look good. At the bottom of downhills it seemed just in reach then my gears started to play up. Several people had already been laughing at the bizarre noises coming from my drive train but now, when I went to shift up, the change only came 20 or 30 seconds later when I least expected it. It was not what tired legs were expecting for the rolling hills and country lanes to the finish. I checked the distance to go and the elevation profile and discovered a new climb which I had completely forgotten about. Selective memory? 800m! FFS
All of a sudden it didn't seem doable. A band of 3 merry men came by. Each one asked me if I was Ok. I was not Ok. They didn't hang around long to talk to the grumpy old lady. The last guy passed saying, "It's ok, we've got all day". I did not want all day. There was no way I could go on feeling this shit all day and this would be a lot of effort to go through just for another green badge. Serious thoughts of quitting entered my mind. It felt like there was little between me and the finish but a lot of time. In the next village I went to have a sit on a bench then realised the 3 merry men were along the road a little sitting at tables outside a shop serving coffee. Perfect.
In theory I waved goodbye to time limits and decided to stop for a lovely brew with my new friends, try not to depress them any further, and eat some cake.
For the fifth time that morning I decided it was all stupid, I wasn't going to play any more and the clock could go to hell. I'd have had a lovely sleep if it hadn't been for that pesky alarm. What was I rushing back for anyway? The coffee, cake and company was good and I found I was slick at getting my stuff together and getting on the road. By the time the guys caught me up I had stopped to remove my layers before the big push up to the wind turbines in the sky. For a moment I started to think 28 hours was still doable.
Somehow, two "camp" stops meant my gear was all awry and despite ditching/eating a lot of food it was quite a challenge to repack all my bags. Some things that had been packed away had to be unpacked, relocated and repacked and my coke bottle finally drained and squashed just to squeeze my gaiters into my stem cell bag. There was stuff everywhere.
• • •
I set off up the climb at an angry stomp. I was soon off the bike and pushing but the coffee and calories were doing their thing. The canister of tuna bean salad I'd been carrying for 2 days was digging into my shoulder blades but there was no time to stop and sort it out.
An undefined track across tussocky moorland leads to a wind farm. Only the thought of gravel roads leading to the turbines brought me any hope and then the locked gates came.
The first was the worst. A primal scream was the only mechanism I had to lift the heavy bike over the tall fence and then I got the rear wheel caught on the barbed wire and dropped the whole thing hard onto the crushed stone, carbon bars first. That made me mad. Then some gymnastics to get me over the awkward gate rendered un-climbable by the anti-sheep mesh welded in place.
The next one was easier but still annoying. The third one was taking the piss. There was a lot of swearing as I wondered: why lock the internal gates? Do wind turbines escape? Surely it's inefficient for the work crews. I was further enraged by the perfectly acceptable bike gates at the other end with full, unhindered access.
The tuna salad still dug into my back but I was cheered up by a happy farmer on a quad bike giving me a wave with his stupid collie grinning into the morning sunshine.
I checked the distance to go: 13km in 24 minutes. 32 kms/hr average - a big downhill but some flat and short, steep climbs on the road to go. First gravel then slate flew by under wheel, then more gates - horrible gates. Gates you have to get off for. Gates you have to lift shut.
8km in 20 minutes 24 km/hr. I flew down the hillside, cow shit and water spraying everywhere. For once the cows were running the other way- thank god.
6km in 12 minutes but now there was tarmac and a sweet, sweet tail wind. I stamped on pedals, hauled the bars span my legs on the downhill till I couldn't go any faster then tucked hard. Begged drivers not to pull out, took the racing line, ran the red light through the roadworks because it will catch you even if you wait for green. 2km to go in 5 minutes. I rounded the bend. No-one was in the carpark to witness my elation. I totally missed the driveway so ran down the stairs with my bike and banged on the windows.
"I'm back".
27 hours 58 minutes. One very happy Trep.
