Coast to Coast in a Day 2015

There was no alarm, just the reality of waking up at 3:58 am. Turning over and trying to go back to sleep didn't work, my brain was off and running. This was the day I had been working towards for a year now.

Friday had been a strange day. It was my birthday but there was very little time for that. Tim arrived and we quickly loaded bikes and set off for Coventry to collect Ben. Another quick load and we were off for the Lakes. Sadly the M6 had different ideas and we were 3 hours late when we arrived in Seascale, the start point of tomorrow's ride.

Registration was organised and efficient, a theme for the whole sportive, as was the tent pitching before we headed out for dinner. A last chance to load up before an early start to the ride. With bikes stored and legs loaded with pudding we settled down for what turned out to be about 5 hours of sleep.

The campsite, before dawn, already awake

At 4am it appeared the other campers were up and going so we joined them. The merits of butter, vaseline or natural were discussed. The merits of porridge, bananas and Cliff bars were discussed. We each went our own way depending on what we could stomach at this early hour. The sun was rising over the mountains that lay in our path and it was time to get moving.

Bikes were loaded, bottles filled and it was time to hit the start line. Even at 6am quite a crowd was forming, photos were being taken, meetings made. It seemed a lot of riders had already departed, either very keen or giving themselves as much time as possible. We tottered down onto the beach and onto the start ramp. Timing chips were blipped and we were off.

A perfect start to the day

Leg 1 - The Lake District

The route started gently through quiet roads, the mist rising from the fields and streams catching the early sun. The fells were grey and distant but coming closer all of the time. Out there somewhere was Hardknott Pass but the cool air and sunshine allowed us to enjoy the first 20km. Eventually we reached the phone box and cattle grid at the base of the climb and there it was before us, already a snake of riders shining and shifting all the way to the top.

Gears were crunching, tops were unzipped and expletives muttered as the first ramp kicked in. Already some were walking, either prepared with trainers in the bag or clip clopping away. The first hairpin claimed some more as people started to settle into a rhythm, turn after turn, stand a little and sit a little. The first steepness eases off but it comes back again and again. A flat section gives you a breather but you fight the urge to grab a couple of gears as ahead are the upper slopes.

Riders work their way up Hardknott Pass

A sharp left and right took an impossible line up the hill. A car was approaching behind so I took a wide line on the right hander to let them go, almost track standing as I waited. Suddenly, the sound of spinning wheels suggested that the car wasn't going to be moving soon. A look over the shoulder confirmed the car was stuck. "He should have brought a bike instead" I said between breaths.

Onwards and upwards, the angle easing. Ben was up ahead, Tim not far behind, we had passed the first test and I was feeling strong. All those hours churning up and down the Chilterns paid off here, and not for the last time.

Tim descends the eastern side of Hardknott

A cautious descent dropped us down into Cockley Beck, all of the riders taking care not to ruin their day this early. Now came Wrynose, from this side a much kinder neighbour to Hardknott than the eastern ascent. Again, a few walkers but far fewer than before and the hill was quickly done.

With the two biggest spikes out of the way we could now start to enjoy the rest of the ride. Swooping up and down through the Lakes in the early morning sun, little groups and conversation making the miles fly. A quick drop down to Far Sawrey put us in the queue for the Ferry and a first chance for a breather. Several riders fell on this descent but we were cautious and riding well within ourselves at this early stage.

The timer was stopped and we could refuel, take on drinks and check out the bike showroom growing around us. A quick ferry trip and a mass start saw about a hundred bikes heading out to Kendal. The next couple of hills spread the group bit by bit until our little group of three was riding alone again.

Now a fast sweep into Kendal and the first food stop at 62km. This is where this event really shone, lots of sandwiches, lots of snacks, lots of volunteers running everything. The whole thing was very efficient and a real bonus of doing an event like this.

Legs 2 to 4 - Kendal to Ingleby

Recharged we headed out of Kendal, tackling The Greyhound and the A684 climb to reach the M6, a mental milestone for me to tick off, leaving the Lakes behind.Now we could see the Pennines ahead of us, dropping down rapidly to Sedbergh before starting the long and steady climb to Garsdale Head. Tim started to flag here, the first to go into his own little world of pain (probably the final protest of the Pork and Venison burger from the night before). We eased off a little, spinning our legs to gain the height over 12 miles. Then another swoop down to Hardraw for the next stop at 101km.

Enjoying the soup and a longer rest at Hardraw

The rhythm was now set. The food stops were perfectly placed every couple of hours along the route so our next target was close at hand. With a good wind behind us we flew along the River Ure, enjoying the sunshine and the perfect countryside. Scarth Nick tried to stop us but we rolled up this and then hit more long downhill, arriving at Tunstall an easy two hours later for another 40km ticked off.

Taking the last of the hill from Tunstall lead us down towards Catterick. Now a group formed around us and we jumped onto it. About ten riders picked up the pace and we started flying along the flats at a steady 35kph. The lead rotated, Ben taking his turn looking like he was hardly trying, as normal. I started to flag and had to dig in to ride the last wheel. Then Tim hit the front, his earlier troubles forgotten. Now started the Pain Train. Tim upped the pace and we started to drop riders, me first. Eventually the group was blown by Tim's speed and we all eased off. It was a great rush to ride in such a group and it had eaten up some flat and boring miles.

Now the hills raised above us again, Osmotherley signalling another long climb, a cruise and then a steep and twisty descent. We closed in on Ingleby, the last stop at 195km at the foot of the climb onto the North York Moors. At all of the other food stops the mood had been upbeat and excited. Now it was darker. There were tired bodies and minds here, some taking a while to find the strength to get this ride finished. A quick check of the route card showed there was plenty left in the ride with two climbs of over 10% to come.

Leg 5 - North York Moors

We saddled up for one last time. Only 55km to the finish. As we climbed on to the moors I had my turn in the dark place. Tim and Ben headed off up the road, I got dropped and it was a lonely place to be alone. I fought to keep up for a while, passing several other riders clearly running out of steam. In the end I had to let them go, I knew what was coming.

Crag Bank was first, 500m at an average of 11%. Not normally the end of the world but with 205km in the legs it was enough. I overtook Tim pretty early, hills being more to my style and having found the way out of the dark place. The legs were still working, with enough to stand on the really steep stuff. Over the top and then a drop down to Sandhill Bank for more of the same. Only two more climbs to go...

Of course, spotting hills on Strava is no guarantee of accuracy, and North Yorkshire has many lovely surprises hidden in its dales. Up and down we went, every steep section coming with a churn of gears. Next at 219 km was Lealholm Lane, long and steady and a chance to pass more walkers. So close to the end now.

Limber Hill, short and steep. Photo: Cleveland Wheelers

Finally, the sting in the tail was close. 5km up the road we reached Limber Hill, only 300 meters long but with an average over that distance of 16%. Final reserves were called, riders all around pushing themselves, urging themselves on, urging each other on. Standing on the pedals you can only tell the angle has eased as your thighs are burning less. Then you can sit down. Then you can steal a gear. The sign at the top says 33%. At 224km into the day it could well have been a wall but we were over.

Now the finish line fever started to set in. With 10km to go I caught the first glimpse of the sea. We were going to do it, We were going to cycle clear across the country in a day. A little group formed, strung out along shady lanes as we swooped up and down again, up and down in the endless sunshine. A huge grin spread across my face. Signs for Whitby, a short climb and then the descent started. The pace picked up as we rolled into Whitby at 30mph.

Me and Ben (Right) happy to be in Whitby

A couple of turns and there we were, swinging right onto the sea front, Whitby's famous abbey on the hill ahead. The crowd started to build and we slowed into the finish. A blur of smiling faces and clapping hands. Our friends and family had found a perfect spot and had their banners out to greet us. We crossed the line and checked in our timing chips. 12 hours 40 minutes! We had nailed our target.

Hugs and cheers, popping corks, excited half explained stories, smiles and sighs. A little emotional and thick voiced, squinting in the bright evening sun. Almost exactly one year after first getting on any kind of road bike I had completed my hardest ever ride. We had done something which none of us were sure we could do when we signed up and we had completed it with no dramas and in excellent time.

So What Followed...?

It is now a couple of days after the ride and I can look back on things a bit more clearly. I am absolutely covered in midge bites from the climb up Hardknott and my tan lines are wonderfully sharp after not wearing sun cream. Both my own fault but suitable badges of honour.

I can't help but feel a little deflated after all this time focussed on this one day. I found the 150 mile Cyclist Fighting Cancer ride at Stratford-upon-Avon harder as that was a big step up in distance and although not as steep as the C2C it was certainly more painful. I'll just have to take away the dozens of happy memories of the day, the jokes, the views, the pies, and use them whenever I need a lift.

As you can see in the pictures, Ben and I were riding for the Great Ormond Street Hospital Children's Charity, and specifically in memory of William Crook who died last year. His parents and family were amongst our greatest supporters and it was an honour to raise over £2000 pounds for the William Crook's Brighter Future Fund. If you have enjoyed reading this, maybe consider putting a couple of pounds towards this great cause on the Just Giving page.

So what next... something bigger, something badder, but certainly something. I am a Freshly Minted Roadie and proud.

12 hours and 40 minutes, almost
exactly where we hoped to be.