Rocky Mountain 1200 day 3 and 4

Rocky Mountain 1200 - day 3 and 4

At 1.45 A friendly controller gently wiggled my toes and woke me up from my 4.5 hours of incredibly deep sleep - deep space deep sleep if there is such a thing. I felt fresh and ready to go - but all good things start with a big breakfast! So I went to the dining area and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast and several cups of coffee before I was off towards Revelstoke around 2.45, some 145 km down the road. It was overcast and really dark as soon as I got outside of Golden, but again I was taken aback by how well the Edelux could lit up the road. It was truly a joy to ride in the night with the Edelux and the soft Grand Bois tires. I shifted in the saddle - my saddle soar was beginning to make itself known a bit, despite liberal use of body glide. Oh well, I could at least see an end to it all... 

The road to Revelstoke was mostly downhill, except for 2 minor passes, each ascending roughly 300 meters. Coming down the first pass I ran into a lot of mist and fog, so I had to stop and put on extra layers. The chill lasted for an hour or so until I began the climb up the last pass, Rogers Pass. It was a delight to climb as it was now broad daylight though with only a few misty areas here and there so I quickly had to stop and undress a bit again. There was a stretch halfway or so up the pass where the road had been passed through 4 tunnels during the course of a few km. The sound from passing cars and trucks filled the tunnel with reverberating sounds when passing and it made it feel a bit otherworldly to ride through them although none of them were very long, a km at the most. At the top of Rogers pass there was an impromptu service control. Several Rando’s were there and I pulled over as well to sit down for a cup of coffee and a banana. Rogers Pass marked the end of any serious climbing on the ride - it was now downhill all the way to Revelstoke and I was seriously looking forward to that :-)  

Gary Prince, also from SIR, was at the control as well. He had DNF’ed a day or so earlier as he was too cold to continue on from Jasper. However, when the car he was in had crested Sunwapta Pass in the afternoon sun he got out so that he could complete the rest of the ride now that he was warm and able to ride again. Good for him! 

After a few minutes I was off again and the road almost immediately descended. I was now going downhill in the sunshine with a tailwind. What a difference to the previous days! The ride photographer passed me several times in his car and took pictures of me and the other riders. There were a bunch of us spread out over a few km, so some other riders were always visible ahead or behind. In randonneuring, you can ride dozens of km being 100-200 m behind another rider because the two of you don’t ride at *exactly* the same pace. For me, that is the only possible way I can ride long distances with somebody else: if our paces are exactly the same when climbing, descending or riding on the flats. If the ride partner’s pace is higher, just by a tiny amount, it wears me out physically over the course of a 1200 km ride, and if partner’s pace is lower I get extremely impatient after a few hours. I usually ride alone for a large part of the ride and then catch up with people in the controls instead.

Climbing a hill before Revelstoke. Photo by Stephen Hinde, RM 1200 photographer.

The sun started to feel *really* hot, and it was still early morning-ish. I stopped to get rid of some more layers, but kept the arm warmers on for now - that way I wouldn’t have to use sunscreen yet. Once again the photographer came around and took a few pictures. We chatted a bit before I rolled on again; he was pleased with the weather too - better to get nice shots when it’s not raining cats and dogs and there’s road spray all over the place. Soon I rolled into Revelstoke and a late morning breakfast / early lunch - it was shortly after 10, so it had taken some 7 hours to ride to Revelstoke from Golden. 911 km down, 294 km to go. Ha, less than a 300 k ride, which I could normally do in 14 hours or so w/o becoming exhausted. Not bad at all :-)

Shedding layers outside of Revelstoke. Picture by Stephen Hinde, RM 1200 photographer.

I reveled in the hospitality of the Revelstoke controllers. I had a big breakfast consisting of pancakes, eggs, bacon, ham, coffee, coke and juice. Kathy Twitchell was there; she and I had worked the Cascade 1200 ride a month earlier in WA and had good fun doing that. Her husband was riding the RM 1200 as well, and he had also ridden the Cascade 1200 in June. As I sat down with my meal somebody poked me on the shoulder. It was Seana whom I hadn’t seen since a couple of hours after the start Sunday evening. She as well had abandoned at Beauty Creek due to her knees acting up in the cold and was now en route to Kamloops in one of the volunteer vehicles. It wasn’t the first time that somebody had talked about knee problems. If your knees get cold you’re toast on a long ride like this. It made me really glad that I had my RainLegs, which had always kept my knees warm, dry and toasty even in freezing temperatures, rain, snow and sleet. James was there as well. We had ridden together from Kamloops to Clearwater on the first day. He had abandoned at Valemount due to the cold and rain and was getting a ride back to Kamloops in the same vehicle as Seana. Too bad; the weather was getting really sunny and warm now, and supposed to stay like this through the end of the ride.

After an hour I was ready to take off again. I walked outside and immediately felt the heat from the sun - and it wasn’t even noon yet! I took of as many layers as I could, including the undershirt but again left the arm warmers on so I didn’t have to apply sun screen. Since the start of the ride I had been wearing a woolen jersey, but I was now getting concerned that I was in for a real scorcher on the 126 km stretch to Armstrong. As comfortable as wool is when it’s cold, it can cause serious overheating when riding in the sun. However, as my nearest non-wool jersey was in my drop bag in Golden, 148 km in the wrong direction there was no need to dwell upon such facts and so I set off.

I felt the heat immediately, most noticeably due to the arm warmers that made my arms feel as if they were in a toaster oven. After 10-12 km or so I arrived at Three Valley Gap, a resort town / chateau of sort with its own genuine ghost town in the back yard. The latter is a relic from some hopeful gold miners that came to the area in the 1860’s and quickly left again after a) quickly building a little town and b) upon further exploration realize that there was no gold in the area. Oh well... However, I was not interested in any of those fascinating facts. My arms were cooking so I pulled over and ripped off my arm warmers - ahhh. On came the SPF 30 and then I was off again, feeling a lot better. 

Three Valley Gap - quite the construction!

The road was generally downhill for the next couple of hours as I rode towards the halfway point between Revelstoke and Armstrong, Sicamous. The ride was now quickly getting out of the mountains, and the landscape opened up a bit more with broader valleys, more agriculture and less forest. Less forest meant less shadow. It was now brutally hot and I was sweating heavily in the wool jersey. My speed slowed down a bit and a couple of km outside Sicamous I was passed by a couple of faster riders. Shortly after I had made the turn in Sicamous towards Armstrong I saw them lying in the grass in the shadow of some large pine trees. Apparently I was not the only one who felt the heat! 

Still, lying down in the shadow seemed like a really good idea and a couple of km down the road I pulled over and sat down in the soft grass out of the sun. Ahhh, I closed my eyes and drifted off for a few minutes while I ate a power gel and had some serious helpings of Gatorade. A handful of other riders passed me while I was resting and we greeted each other. After composing myself for ten minutes or so I felt much invigorated and ready to take on the last 50 km or so towards Armstrong. They turned out to be a delight, probably the most memorable 50 km during the entire ride for me. The landscape had now completely changed from mountains to wide fields and lots of farmlands, all very green and lush and set in a very wide valley. The farmers in the valley certainly seemed to know what they were doing, and it was a striking contrast to ride through the farmland as opposed to the mountains outside of Golden where I had started the day. The view changed every 1-2 minutes as the road turned and passed yet another immaculately kept farm, passing through small villages and feeling like I was getting back into civilization again. Until now there hadn’t been much traffic or other people outside of the controls, but that had certainly changed. It was a nice contrast. Because of the variation in the landscape the last half of the stretch towards Armstrong seemed to go very quick, and before I knew off it I pulled in at the Armstrong control 16.58 Wednesday afternoon. 1038 km down and 166 km to go!

The Armstrong control wasn’t very busy - only a handful of riders were there when I showed up. It was in the local gym, and it was a delight to get inside and out of the sun for a bit. My wool jersey had almost done me in in the summer sun. What a remarkable change from only a couple of days ago - but such is randonneuring :-) Regardless, I sat down for a grilled cheese sandwich and some fruit salad, and 2-3 cans of cokes. I had a drop bag here as well, and I changed my bibs. The saddle soar was making itself known now, but the bibs I had in the drop bag had the thickest chamois of all my bike bibs so I was actually quite looking forward to the next section to Salmon Arms. 

I spent the better part of an hour at Armstrong and shortly before 18.00 I was on the road again. Salmon Arms was only 37 km down the road and it took me about 1:30 hours to get there. It was a quick ride, the first few km were uphill as the road climbed 100 m and then it was flat on backroads all the way to Salmon Arms. There was very little traffic and the heat was dying away in the early evening - it was a great segment to ride. I was debating with myself what I should do a Salmon Arms. Should I stay or should I go on to Kamloops - only 130 km down the road? I would reach Salmon Arms with about one hour of daylight to spare, so I could make a big inroad on the stretch to the penultimate control at Westwold if I left right away. On the other hand I would be finishing in the middle of the night if I did so, and wouldn’t get to see much of the scenery of the last 130 km, and nothing at all of the stretch from Westwold to Kamloops. 

As I rolled into the Salmon Arms control I was still debating what to do... 1073 km down, 131 km to go.

I sat down for dinner at a table where also John Kramer from Oregon and Gary Prince from SIR were eating. Suddenly a 6-pack of beer appeared on the table; it was Gary who had felt the need for a beer and asked if anybody else wanted one? That did it! I grabbed a beer and at the same time made the decision to stay the night and then carry on in the early morning. The beer felt really good after a long day in the sun! After that I was ready for a 5-hour nap, so I asked for a bed and to be woken up at 2 am. Then I was off to lalaland once again.

A beer at Salmon Arms :-)

At 2:00 I was once again awoken by a friendly controller and I immediately went for breakfast - bacon, eggs, and sausages - yum! At 2.45 I was out the door en route to Westwold, only 73 km down the road. 

The initial route out of Salmon Arms involved a huge descent into the town centre, upon which the course quickly took me out in the country side. It was jet-black so I couldn’t really see much of the surrounding landscape (no lighting to highlight the features!), but I could feel that the road was gently rolling. I remembered from the elevation profile that the road was mainly climbing for the first 30-40 km to Westwold as we were gaining 300 m in elevation, in preparation for a large downhill on the last stretch into Kamloops. However, I didn’t really feel much of the climbing until around day break when I exited the countryside backroads for the highway leading towards Westwold and - by extension - Kamloops. Suddenly the bike rolled a lot slower - 14-16 km/hr, which was REALLY annoying as there was still some 30-40 km to Westwold and I wasn’t particularly keen on slowing down this much towards the end of the ride. I suspected that the speed decrease was due to a gentle grade on the road - invisible to the naked eye - and that eventually it would level out. After an hour or so at slow speed I finally began to pick up some speed and rather quickly found myself rolling along at my usual 25-27 km/hr, which was much nicer.  The last 10-15 km into Westwold might have been very pretty, but a dense early morning fog made it impossible to see what the landscape looked like. But at least it now felt flat! At 6.21 I rolled into Westwold control, 1147 km down and only 57 km to go - nice!

At Westwold I sat down with John Kramer (OR) and Spencer Klaassen (MO) who had been 1-2 minutes ahead of me the entire way to Westwold. I had an awesome cup of potato soup and a few cookies, together with a cup of coffee. We chatted for a few minutes - quite elated about the fact that we were now at the penultimate control and that some 30% of the remaining road would be mostly downhill! John and Spencer had both had the same experience as me, with the bike going a lot slower. Spencer said the grade had been around 1.5%, not enough to see, but certainly enough to slow you down at this point in the ride, which was exactly what I had felt. I was glad that part was now mostly over! 

After half an hour or so we took off again - no point in sitting around when the finish was literally around the corner. The first 45 minutes or so the road was rolling and then the descent towards the trans Canada highway began. I flew down the hill and onto the highway. A big sign said Kamloops 26 km. It was 7.45 or so in the morning, the sun was up, there was no wind and hardly any traffic. I switched to the big ring and found myself cruising at 30 km/hr with hardly any effort towards Kamloops. John and Spencer caught up after a little while and we rode the last 10 km or so together. At 8.49 we all pulled in at the Kamloops curling club were we had started 82:49 hours earlier - a Personal Best for me! 1204 km done, 0 km to go!

Done!

Notifying the entire world about my finish. Photo by Stephen Hinde, RM 1200 photographer.

Rocky Mountain 1200 Day 2

The 2012 Rocky Mountain 1200 - day 2 - Jasper to Golden

I didn’t sleep well in Jasper, which was really annoying. The sleeping facilities were in the basement of a house, covered with sleeping pads. Mine was rather thin so it was pretty difficult to find a good sleeping position. I would doze off for 20-40 minutes, then wake up for 5, then fall asleep again. However, I wasn’t seriously tired when the controller woke me up at 1.30 Tuesday morning and all in all didn’t feel too bad. After the shower the night before I had changed to new bike clothes and slept in them, so I was up and ready for breakfast in 5 minutes. Just had to get my contacts in. In the rush I managed to forget my contact lens case when I left, but I had spare contact lenses in my drop bags further down the road. Then I walked out of the sleeping facility and over to the main control where breakfast was served.

The dining room had changed a lot since I had seen it last about 4 hours ago! There were wet clothes EVERYHWERE. Every chair and piece of furniture that wasn’t absolutely necessary for serving dinner or breakfast for the riders had been taken in use as drying racks. Strings were strung between the walls as cobwebs to dry out rain gear, gloves, shoe covers, balaclavas  (apparently it got a lot colder after sunset!), helmets, leg warmers, knee warmers, arm warmers etc. etc. There was a moist smell to the entire room, the water from all the wet clothes mixing with the cooking smell from the kitchen in the other end of the room. Then there were the riders who had arrived after me.

About 10 riders were sitting on chairs spread out around and amongst the dining tables. The really didn’t look too good. They were all wrapped up in the microfiber blankets that were also handed out for sleeping and all of them had the 1000-yard stare like the solider in Thomas Lea’s WWII painting. One of the controllers was talking to one of the riders ‘Would you like something to eat or drink?’. The rider looked at her but didn’t answer. She repeated the question. No answer. Then a third time. No reply. Then just ‘Eat?’ Still no answer. I started to think that it really had to have been pretty cold for the riders coming in after 20 or so when the sun had set. I got a bit worried about my own clothing and put on a woolen undershirt, then 2 short sleeve wool cycling jerseys, then my arm and knee warmers, then my rain legs. I had a quick breakfast of coffee and 4 butter/raspberry sandwiches, put on my rain jacket, helmet, glove and reflective west and walked out the door. I was wearing every single piece of clothing that I had.

Outside it had almost stopped raining and it was somewhat chilly but it was cloudy so it probably wouldn't get a lot colder even if there were still a few hours to sunrise. I was thinking that it was not getting a bit old to ride 1200’s in bad weather. I rode PAris-Brest-Paris in 2007 in rainy and cold conditions, and London-Edinburgh-London 2009 in much more rain and colder conditions than PBP 2007. Regardless, I got my bike and around 2.30 I rolled out of Jasper, onto the Icefields Parkway (http://www.icefieldsparkway.ca/index.html) in direction of Lake Louise, 2 major mountain passes and some 230 km down (or up!) the road.

As soon as I was outside of Jasper it was the end of the street lights and it got very, very dark. That didn’t bother me. The Edelux gave an amazing light and I really enjoyed rolling along on the totally car-free road - not many tourists in campervans and SUV’s at 2.30 in the morning! That was quite a contrast to the day before where there had been some semi traffic on the # 5 highway. I saw a red light up ahead - the first indication that I wasn’t alone on the road. I slowly reeled in the rider and passed him. A few minutes later I saw another light and slowly reeled that one in too. I passed time until dawn slowly catching up to riders ahead of me. Then I started to be able to see a bit of the landscape around me. The parkway is supposed to be the most spectacular journey in the world, with glaciers, rivers, wildlife, flora and mountains all around you, changing with every turn of the road. Sadly, it was very cloudy with low hanging clouds and fog banks as I rode along, so I only got a few glimpses here and there of what truly seemed to be a most spectacular landscape. Another disadvantage of riding in the rain ;-)

The bike seemed to go slower and felt harder to pedal. I was also very wet, but not particularly cold - the wool took care of that. A couple of hours after leaving Jasper I passed a motel in the early morning light and for a brief moment my brain toyed with the idea of calling it quits here, check in to a room, sleep in a soft, warm bed, then ride back to Jasper and take the train back to Kamloops in the evening. A few hundred meter further on I pulled over, sat down on the gravel and consulted the elevation profile. I was only 15-20 km from the next control, and the reason why the bike was hard to pedal was that I had gained almost 500 m elevation in the short time since leaving Jasper. It had been impossible to see the road in the dark, and it can be very difficult to ascertain whether you’re climbing or going on a flat piece of road. That had played a trick on me. The fact that I only had a a few km to the next control, combined with the realization that I had made a huge downpayment of the first pass of the day, Sunwapta Pass at 2000+ m was a huge morale booster. I got back on the bike and half an hour later I found myself at Beauty Creek, ready for a second breakfast. 533 km down and 671 km to go - almost halfway and it was 7.10 in the morning.

Beauty Creek was a cozy little control. It was in a hostel, which had been completely taken over by the RM 1200 event. Inside the tiny dining room the controllers worked miracles with the frying pans, griddles and coffee makers to produce an awesome breakfast of Canadian Ham, eggs, home made hash browns and blueberry pancakes. I sat down for about half an hour there and enjoyed myself. John Pearch from SIR was just leaving just as I came in. A couple of riders from BC came in a few minutes later. Two Germans, 84-hour riders, were there as well. They had gone the entire way from Kamloops to Beauty Creek Monday and had slept at Beauty Creek. One of them said that Monday had been the worst day he had ever had on a bike. I thought back to LEL 2009 and still didn’t think that the first day of RM 1200 had been as bad as LEL weather-wise.

As I was leaving the control the controllers urged me to take some boiled potatoes in my pockets for the climb up to Sunwapta and later Bow Summit. I had never heard about that before, but seeing the big bowl of delicately packed potatoes, 2 to a bag, together with rows of bananas and bags of almonds made me grab some of it all. On the route profile the climb did look rather steep and I didn’t want to run out of gas. Also, it was almost 150 km to the next control at Lake Louise and the next meal.

The first couple of km after Beauty Creek were flat-ish, and then the road made a slight turn and it felt like I had hit a wall. The cue sheet indicated that the climb from here to the top would be 15 km or so, but after 500 m I was out of breath and climbing in my lowest gear with the greatest difficulty. 6 km/hr on the odometer - 2.5 hours to the top if this kept going on... The road continued for half an hour or so, perhaps 45 minutes, and I was climbing very slowly up the mountain. Then it suddenly leveled out and dropped steeply for a few km’s. I was thrilled about the descent but worried that I were giving up all the altitude that I had gained in pain, sweat and almost tears over the last half hour.

After the steep descent the road leveled out and then started a slight incline. I passed a sign saying the Icefields interpretive center was 1 km up the road. I checked with the cue sheet - only 5 km to the top after the Icefields visitor center! That put a smile on my face. In front of the visitor center I stopped and took a few pictures. It was the first time I had my camera out, and I was more than 500 km into the ride - just goes to show how lousy the weather had been on the first day. I got a few good shots of the Athabasca glacier, just to the right of the road, and had some of the potatoes the controllers on Beauty Creek had recommended. 

Then I continued onwards to the top of Sunwapta. The road felt almost level the rest of the way, and I reached the top in good spirits 20 minutes or so later. I felt pre good about having climbed 1000 m or so since breakfast and looked forward to the descent. It didn't disappoint. A couple of km after the top of the pass it started for real and gravity hurled me down the road at 60+ km/hr for km after km. At the bottom there was a big cloverleaf like turn, the road leveled out for a bit and then there was another descent down along the valley towards the start of the climb to Bow Summit. It lasted for 15-20 km or so, and it felt great to make progress without too much effort. As I descended down valley I could see a bit more of the mountains and glaciers along the parkway and it truly seems to be a magnificent place. Now and then I passed another rando, exchanged a few words and then both of us would proceed at our own paces.

At the bottom I crossed a river and the climb up Bow Summit was ahead. It was around 11 o'clock and I still had a few of the potatoes and almonds from Beauty Creek in my jersey pockets. I turned off on to a quiet forest road and sat down on the gravel. It felt good to get off the bike for a bit, and I had a leisurely lunch consisting of potatoes, almonds and a few power gels, washed down with my Gatorade. It was better than it sounds :-) During my lunch I had seems maybe a handful of other cyclists go by on the road; they all looked like randos. Probably some of the ones I had passed on the way down from sunwapta pass. It was rather sunny now, and only a couple of minutes after I got back on the bike I had to pull over again in order to take of most of my layers and stuff them away. It felt good to be riding without rain gear! The climb to the top of Bow Summit was not particularly steep, except for the last 2-3 km or so. On the way up I saw lots of other cyclists coming down the other side, the first time I had see any non-rando cyclists on the journey. I reached the summit around 2 o'clock and from the top it was downhill all the way to the next control at Lake Louise. The descend was a blast, but i did stop a few times in order to snap a picture here and there of the scenery. It was clearing up for sure, but I had the majority of the scenery on the parkway behind me. Around 15.20 I rolled into Lake Louise and the control. 679 km down, 525 km to go.

When I pulled up I couldn't see any other bikes outside and I was wondering if I was the last one of the riders to arrive... I walked into the control and the first person I saw was Dave, sitting at a dinner table. I go my card stamped and then sat down to chat with Dave. I was surprised to see him here as I would had thought him to be at least 100 km ahead of me at this time. It was then i learned that he had DNF'ed at Beauty Creek. He had left Jasper shortly after 23:00 Monday evening and set out on the parkway. At the time he left it was still raining. Outside of Jasper he had taken a right turn onto the highway towards Kamloops, instead of going straight onto the Icefields Parkway... He had ridden 21 km before he realized he was on the wrong track and turned around. As he came back to intersection at Jasper and turned on the parkway he saw 2 other riders and sped up to ride with them. It turned out to be Seana and Toby so the 3 of them rode to Beauty Creek. By the time they arrived there Dave was too cold to carry on, no matter what he had tried to get warm on the way to Beauty Creek hadn't worked for him and he was unable to continue. I felt sorry for him, but at least i had an explanation for the small number of bikes outside the control: according to Dave around 35% of the riders had abandoned because they were too cold to continue. Once again I thought back to LEL2009 and still didn't think that the RM1200 was wetter or colder. Regardless, I became even more happy about my rainlegs! My knees had been warm and dry throughout the entire ride; they are usually the first body part to suffer if it's really cold and they can really mess up your riding if you're not careful to keep them warm and dry. I only had an impending saddle soar...

There was a tap on my shoulder, and before I could turn around a voice behind me asked ‘Excuse me, can I take a picture of you from behind?’ Thinking that my looks couldn’t possible have deteriorated to the extent that I was now better looking from behind than the front I turned around a bit incredulously ‘Sorry?’ I said. He pointed to my hi-viz RainLegs: ‘I want to know what brand they are and how they attach so I can find them when I get home.’ Now I understood; after some 22 hours of riding in the constant rain, and another 10-14 hours in the cold on the icefields Parkway my legs were still dry and my knees were warm because of my rainlegs, and I hadn’t had a single chill since the start Sunday evening @ 22:00 of the 2012 edition of the Rocky Mountain 1200 km grand brevet. It was Tuesday afternoon, I was at Lake Louise, a bit over half way, it was sunny and the route profile was mainly downhill for the rest of the ride. I lifted up my jersey so he could get a good picture of me, my bum and the rain legs from behind. Things were looking pretty good indeed. I finished my late lunch and took of for my 2nd overnight stop, which I had planned to be Golden, only some 80 km from Lake Louise, an d a few hundred meter lower - the elevation profile was mostly downhill of flat from Lake Louise to Golden and I was really looking forward to that part of the ride in the afternoon sun. What followed was probably the worst 12 km of cycling I have ever had in my entire life.

The first 12 km from Lake Louise were on the trans-Canada highway, which was in the process of being twinned. Immediately outside of Lake Louise the construction began, and there was NO shoulder to ride on whatsoever. This did not prevent the cars and trucks from going 50 km/hr 10 cm from me and my bike. On top of that there was a tremendous headwind, which made it difficult to cycle any faster than15 km/hr. There were potholes and debris from the construction everywhere on the road. It was awful. It took em almost an hour to get to the end of the construction and the downhill began. I dropped a couple of hundred meters over a few km, and my speed reached 70 km/hr on the descent. It lasted 10 km or so and then I reached Fields, a small town in a pleasant valley, but man was I ever noisy - it seemed to be some sort of railroad hub. There was lots of railroad traffic, and the trains were braking and maneuvering around all the time. I could still hear them miles away on the other side of Fields.

After Fields the road leveled out and I rolled along for 20-30 km or so. Then I saw a sign up ahead 'Ten Mile Hill - Brake Check Area'. 

Truck drivers probably dislike that type of signs as much as cyclists love them - it usually means you get a long break at high speed whereas all the truck drivers have to pull over and check their brakes before going down the hill. The road turned a bit uphill and to the right and then I was at top of the hill and began the descent. A truly massive road cut appeared in front of me and behind it a very long and steep downhill. Yeehaw! Gravity assist is one of the best things in randonneuring after a long day in the saddle. No wonder it's popular with NASA and other space agencies as well. The downhill, however, only lasted for a couple of km and I was extremely disappointed. The sign had said Ten Mile Hill?? There was a nasty steep uphill for about a km or so and then the road dropped again, this time for real all the way into Golden, 12 km ahead. 15-20 minutes later I pulled up in front of the Golden control - 764 km down and only 440 km to go. It was 20.12 so I had been on the road for 17 hours and change since leaving Jasper.

There control was almost empty when I arrived; most riders were still behind me it seemed. I sat down for dinner and had several servings of a fabulous frittata. Then I was off for a much needed shower. Ouch. I had a bit of a saddle soar in the making which made itself known when splashed with water. Oh well, not much to do about it now. I changed into fresh bike clothes and asked for a sleeping spot. They were very well organized in Golden: the sleeping area was in a gym and everybody got their own private wrestling mat - a King size bed in the Sheraton never felt so good. I asked to be woken up 1.45, which would give me almost 4.5 hours of sleep and then promptly fell asleep. 

London-Edinburgh-London 2009, the epilogue...

LEL - The Epilogue...

I had finished LEL2009 in 105:30 hours. After I got my final stamp in my brevet card and had handed it over to the controllers they handed me a little pack. Ooooh, joy of joys - there was a sandwich and a beer in it! Maybe it would be a Golden Best or something equally refreshing? Unfortunately it wasn’t an English beer but some diluted Belgian water called Stella Artois. Regardless, I sat down on a bench with some of the other riders from the US. One of them was John Ende, famous at least in US randonneuring circles for passing a kidney stone during Paris-Brest-Paris 2007 and continuing his ride after having been hospitalized due to the passing stone. Despite the weather he had had an easier ride this time around... 

We drank and ate our sandwiches and generally drifted off mentally in various directions. I was feeling a bit fuzzy from sleep deprivation, but not really tired or sleepy as such, just fuzzy all over. It was also a *very* nice feeling to have completed the ride and although I was way over my initial 96 hour target time I was nonetheless very pleased finishing Thursday evening. This meant I could sleep the entire night, have a big breakfast and then take off for London and get 2 full days in town before heading back to Seattle Sunday afternoon.

But all that was for tomorrow. Now a more pressing need started to become apparent - showering. Last time I was in a shower was Sunday morning. It was now Thursday evening so it had been 4.5 days without showering - and 1400 km of cycling inbetween. While I certainly had been wet for some of the time I’m not sure that it really counted. I went to the counter and asked for the key to my room, got it and started walking my bike towards my lodge.

Then Dave suddenly appeared. I had been wondering how he had finished and how he felt. I imagined that when I saw him he would be well rested, as in Coxwold he was some 15 hours ahead of me, so I figured he would have finished late Wednesday evening or very early Thursday morning at the latest. But his tiny eyes looking at me didn’t really indicate that he was overly rested. He had finished late Thursday morning, some 10 hours ahead of me, so I had made up a lot of time on him towards the end.  He had been riding in various groups most of the way and things had been going so well that although he had planned for a nap in Dalkeith (riding non-stop there), he had continued on with other groups going south, all the way to Coxwold. Coxwold. 1021 km after the start. Without sleep.

I had a hard time comprehending that. I was hallucinating mildly after ~600 km. I couldn’t imagine what another 400km would have done to me. But Dave could tell me: He had been seeing all kinds of stuff the last hours before coming into Coxwold. People on the road that vanished into thin air when he approached them and stuff. Much like cheap drugs. He had slept at Coxwold for a few hours and then continued on in daylight (early Wednesday morning). But the 1021km without sleep had worn him down a bit so progress had been slow the last 400km. The last 68km from Gamlingay had taken him 4-5 hours, riding together with another Dane, actually. Anyway, he made it, but not as much ahead of me as I would have thought. 

Dave suggested we had another beer or two and I was all up for that! He went to the bar to get them and I parked myself and my bike outside on a bench - the weather was really nice now! We drank and talked about the ride; both of us agreed that it was one of the hardest things we had ever done. I decided it was time for a shower; it had been 4 1/2 days since my last shower and I had cycled 1401 km since then. While I had been wet a lot in those 4 1/2 days I hadn’t had any soap to go with the wetness and it felt about time. Consequently I went to my room, which I was sharing with a couple of Italians who had finished Wednesday morning, some 36-40 hours before me. They did look fast... They said they had to get up at 3 Friday morning in order to catch their plane and that they didn’t hope that they would wake me up. Reassuringly I informed them that I really didn’t think that would be possible. 

I then had a quick shower and Dave and I went to the nearest pub for a few more beers and general evaluation. I had 6 packs of chips (crisps for UK readers) as well. An hour or so later I started to feel the impact of the last 4-5 days effort and we broke up in order to head to bed. A couple of riders rolled in as we walked through the gate to the hostel. Well done! 3 minutes later I was fast asleep.

At 6.45 or so Friday morning I woke up again, in a completely empty hostel room. I hadn’t heard a thing when the Italians had left and I had spent 7 hours or so in deep sleep, which felt really good. So I got up and had another shower (2 in 12 hours!) and then headed off for the breakfast room. On the way I met Dave, who was surprised to see me. He thought I would’ve been off in la-la land for much longer. It was probably the thought of the English breakfast that had awoken me - since it was included in the price for the room there really wasn’t any reason to miss out on it...

There were not too many riders in the breakfast room so we had no problems finding a place to sit. Only the sitting itself was a bit of a problem for us - turned out that also Dave had some issues with general wear and tear here and there... A rider who had just finished a few minutes earlier sat down next to us. It turned out he was a cop and that he was living in Wales. His first job had been in Bangor, of all places, so we talked about that for a bit. It was his first grand brevet and he was very pleased to have finished. So was I. This was my 3rd ride of 1200km or more and the finish always feel the same - tremendous satisfaction and a great sense of achievement. Add to that a slight sense of feeling peckish  and you’ll understand that I was very pleased looking down at my plate, eyeing my breakfast, which was steadily disappearing from my plate!

After breakfast it was time to get the bike packed up. Dave was flying out Saturday morning, so if we could make it into London for the afternoon we had time for several pints in the very pleasant (now!) summer weather.  An hour or so later we had both bikes in the boxes and checked out. There was a train strike so we had to take a taxi to the next station over, in order to get on a train operated by a non-striking company. British taxis are great! We had 2 bikes in boxes, I had a huge duffelbage, Dave a backpack, and then we had 2 smaller bags each. It all fitted inside the taxi, together with us without problem - that would not be possible anywhere in the US, where the trunk (boot for UK readers) always has a funky bump in the middle where the spare tire sticks up. Whoever came up with that car design was certainly not a bicyclist!

Anyway, 20 minutes later we were on our way to Liverpool Street Station and from there we went to Paddington where we both dropped of out bikes in the left luggage section. Then we checked in to the hotel and then out to find 1) lunch 2) beer. We ended up sitting in a pub in Covent Garden for 5-6 hours all afternoon before going for dinner in a Steak House back at Paddington Station. Then we said good bye to each other as Dave was off for Canada next morning at 7:00 while I was meeting with a friend coming to town for the day from Portsmouth. So that was really the final end of LEL for me.

A quiet pint (or 5...) in sunny Covent Garden!

Dave in front of London's Chinatown

It has now been about a month and I have been thinking about the ride quite a lot. My daily distances were 633km, 261km, 216km and 291km. So apart from ‘day 1’ (which was really more like 2 days) the distances were very moderate. I would have liked to see a more even distribution of the mileage, but the weather also came into play. It took forever to get from Eskdalemuir to Dalkeith and back, despite the fact that it was only 166 km for the round trip. I then made it into Alston on midnight and due to the storm it was impossible to go any further unless you were a complete lunatic (all randonneurs have a bit of that in them, I think, but not enough to put you into outright danger...). 

I would have liked to make it to Middleton Tyas at 969km for the 2nd ‘night’ (i.e. 2nd sleep period), and I wasn’t too tired to do that, but the weather prevented any further riding that night. If I had made it to Middleton Tyas I figure that I could have slept 4-5 hours and then be quite well-rested to ride the last 432km in one stretch. 

It is also possible that riding 633km in one sitting was too much, but once I noted the rapid cooling down in Alston I was very determined to not ride in the night (especially w/o my gloves) and was determined to get to Eskdalemuir as fast as possible - together with everybody else, as it turned out... (My buddy Mark from SIR arrived at Eskdalemuir around 19.00 Monday evening and, due to back problems, decided to sleep there. He later told me that when he went to bed there was only one other rider sleeping there, and that when he got up and left in the early morning the place had ‘changed a lot’!!)

Anyway, the way things unfolded I’m not sure I would have done anything different, except try to get in the early start group. If I had been on the road 5.5 hours earlier I could have made it to Eskdalemuir in one go for Monday evening, instead of Tuesday morning. I could then have had about 5-6 hours of sleep until 4am or so, and therefore be on the road 2-3 hours earlier than actually was the case. This in turn would’ve enabled me to get all the way to Middleton Tyas for my 2nd sleep stop, probably early Wednesday morning, instead of being hunkered down in Alston for the night. With 4-6 hours of sleep in Middleton Tyas it would not have been unreasonable to try and make it back to Lee Valley in one go (only 432km) and be back Thursday early afternoon. 

Regardless, even the best laid plans for a long randonnee are susceptible to weather and you end up improvising. In the end I am quite glad that I managed to get 633 km in the first day; that gave me a comfortable time cushion as I met a lot of people in Eskdalemuir that had started in the 8:00 start group. And I know from previous 1200km rides that I usually only need 2-3 hours sleep to recover enough to go out again for 18 hours of riding, so I was never really worried about fatigue. During this ride the worst enemy was the sleepiness (first night, and the approach to Eskdalemuir), and tremendous boredom on some of the stretches. 1400 km is a notably longer ride than a 1200 km. There are 1600 km rides in Germany and 2000km rides on Vancouver Island in Canada. I don’t dare think what they are like. A 2000km ride would take about 7 days, maybe only 6 full days of riding... 

I think I will stick to the 1200 km rides as maximum distance in the future. I now have a 1200km (or more) ride in 3 different countries (USA, France, England) so I only need one more 1200km ride in a 4th country to earn my second International Super Randonneur award - hopefully that will happen next year!

London-Edinburgh-London 2009, part IV

LEL 2009 - night four and day five...

After more than 7 blissful hours of uninterrupted sleep a friendly controller awoke me at 3.30 Thursday morning and reluctantly I got out of bed. When you have booked a cot and a wake-up time there is unfortunately no time for a lie-in, as another rider is waiting for your bed. Two minutes after I was out of my bed another rider was already in it - guess s/he needed it more than I did... I got the contacts in and brushed my teeth again (just because I could!), then went for breakfast and coffee. After that it was time for a quick lube of my miserable butt and at 4.30 I was off towards Washingborough, 74 km down the road and 1184 km from the start.

I had set off right at the crack of dawn and I only needed lights for 15-20 minutes. I passed the pothole where I had had a flat and sidewall destruction on day 1 - this time I anticipated it and easily rode around it once I spotted it. It was a beautiful day, with fluffy Cumulus clouds on an otherwise blue sky. Way out in the horizon the sky turned grey but at least for now there was nothing but dry, fresh air and the open road ahead of me. Even the wind had died down and on top of that the route was now turning ever so frequently, so that even when there was a head wind it really wasn’t for very long. I was anxious to get down to Washingborough, as there would only be 217 km home to Cheshunt from that control - normally an 8-9 hour ride, but I was aware that it might take a bit longer today...

Looking back over my shoulder I could see the outline of a nuclear power plant, clearly visible above the flat landscape. As the km’s disappeared behind me it would become smaller and smaller, a nice visible assurance of my progress. Dark skies accumulated to the left and right of me, but the road ahead passed right through the only bright part of the morning sky. I could see 3 or 4 rain showers to the left and right of me but I was in the dry! If I had been superstitious I would have taken it as a good warning of an easy last day. Half an hour later I was glad that I was not superstitious, as a black cat ran across the road in front of me while looking annoyed at me - perhaps for cycling too fast so that it had to speed up its crossing half way over in order not to get run over?

Somewhere on the route I passed a sleeping randonneur - he had pulled over in a bus shed and was sleeping standing up, leaned against the wall of the shed, with his hand on the bicycle seat to support him. The bus shed was just opposite from a terrace of houses with people having breakfasts and getting started on their day. I bet they all had a good story to tell when they came to work.

Not long after I was on the outskirts of Lincoln, and only 8 km or so from the Washingborough control. In Thorne I had heard some people talk about some roadwork or some such in Lincoln, and somebody mentioned something about a diversion. I hadn’t paid too close attention as I figured it couldn’t be that difficult since it was only 8 km from the control - how many possibilities could there be for diversions that close to a control? Turned out that Lincoln is a rather big city with many, many roads going in all directions. There was a signed diversion, including some signs for LEL riders, but I must have missed one of the more important ones, because I found myself climbing a monster hill for 10 minutes or so. After that I saw a sign advertising the road to Skegness on the A15. I knew that I had to be on the A15 but I was absolutely sure that Skegness - being on the North Sea coast - was not the direction to go, so I turned the bike around and zoomed down the hill I had just climbed. Bingo! There was the correct A15, and it had only taken me half an hour or so of wasted time to find it. 15 minutes later I rolled in at the Washingborough control.

It was still relatively early morning, around 8.30 or so, so I had all reasons for a 2nd breakfast. To my delight there was plenty of bacon, mushrooms and everything else a randonneur could desire. Lots of coffee too! Mark, whom I had met at Thorne was there as well, having his 2nd breakfast. There were not too many riders there, and I figured I was in between the majority of the riders that had stayed at Washingborough overnight and the majority of the riders that had stayed at Thorne.

A couple of Italians pulled in shortly after me. They were always a magnificent sight - all dressed in their national randonneuring jersey, all in white shorts (after 4 days on the road! How many sets of spare clothing did they bring?), all with clean legs and arms, and all with perfect hair, even after 1184 km? Must be the pasta or the coffee at home... (My hair was actually looking OK, but that was because after 4 days without a shower I could set it any which way I wanted and it would stay that way even when the helmet came on).

Soon I was back on the road, headed for Thurlby 67 km ahead (and at 1251 km from the start). The first 25 km were ridden in pleasant winds in the sun when - more or less without warning - I was hit by a tremendous shower while out in the open with nowhere to go and nowhere to hide for the wall of water that came down. I pulled over and got my rain gear on in seconds but I still became soaked - but at least the water in my jersey would heat up during riding when enclosed in my rain coat... Two minutes later I could stop and take it all off again, as the sun was now out in full force. Gotta love the European summer!

The rest of the distance to Thurlby was spent drying out and putting on and taking off rain gear in anticipation of a severe shower, but none materialized and I pulled in to get my stamp around lunch time - perfect timing for lunch. However, there now was a glitch in the organization as the controllers stamping me in told me to go inside and find something to eat - quickly, as they were running out of food!

I hurried inside and the delicious pastries from day one were certainly gone. Fortunately they had cheese sandwiches, soup, and plenty of cakes provided by the lovely ladies from Thurlby Methodist Church. Thank you very much - they were great with and without a bit of custard!

I once again ran into Mark and another british rider (Peter?) who had foot issues. Not trench foot (like me), but rather the opposite as he had developed a set of big cracks on his foot sole. The nurse controller came out and looked at him and told him that he should drink loads of water and orange mix before taking off as the cracks in the skin were due to dehydration. Wonderful sport!

I sat around for 20-30 minutes or so and then took of in the early afternoon for the penultimate control at Gamlingay, 86km down the road and 1336km from the start. Soon after my departure there was another funkiness in the cue sheet, where I fooled around in an intersection for 5 minutes before a man in a parked car stuck his head out and yelled ‘They all went that way’ and pointed in what I thought was the wrong direction. But it wasn’t, and I was back on track, pedalling at a relaxed pace of 25-28km/hr in a slight breeze - the vicious headwind had died down and occasionally there now was a tailwind!

On the downside was that the landscape was now becoming hillier. The flatlands of North Yorkshire and Lincolnshire had given way to sections with short, but steep climbs and long-ish descents - the hills that we had encountered on the North bound journey, but now in reverse. They didn’t bother me too much - except for a few brutally steep ones - but I imagined that some of the later riders would curse the hills this close to the finish...

Regardless, progress was quite good and late in the afternoon I finally found myself Gamlingay - the last control before the finish at Lee Valley Youth Hostel! The controllers looked a bit worn out, which was no wonder once you thought about it. The control had been open since early Sunday when the riders departing at 8.00 had passed through. Later in the day my start group had passed through, and probably only a couple of days later return riders started to show up. So it had to be manned and kept tidy for almost the entire duration of the ride.

Anyway, I didn’t really pay too much attention to the tired controllers, as I was myself feeling a bit tired of it all by now. Happily I got some soup and some sandwiches and sat down with a big glass of orange mix and ate my last dinner on the road. I was dreading the last bit a little - in 2007 when riding PBP the last stretch had had the exact same distance as what I was facing now and back then I though it had been a very, very long haul to get back to Paris. I was wondering if I would feel the same this time - this close to the end you really just want to get it all over with and have a shower (which I really needed now, after more than 4 days on the road!)

Therefore I was soon on the road again, riding along in the later afternoon sun, the wind calming down, the clouds opening up and the grey skies fading away. It was delightful to ride the last 65 km back home to Lee Valley, apart from a slight fuzziness on the cue sheet in Hertford, 15 km before Lee Valley, where I briefly ended up on a dual carriageway going in the wrong direction. Oh well, back along the sidewalk and then off towards Cheshunt. 8-9km later I saw a sign saying ‘Cheshunt’ and 20 minutes later I rolled in at Lee Valley Youth Hostel, to the applause of the finished riders, organizers, friends and families sitting outside enjoying a well-deserved beer. I parked the bike, walked inside and handed over my control card for my final stamp. I had completed the 2009 London-Edinburgh-London bike ride in 105:30 hours!

London-Edinburgh-London 2009, part III

LEL 2009 - night three and day four...

Fortunately, night three was over rather quickly, as I slept most of the night under the coffee table. I woke up a few times - like 1.50, 2.30, 3.08, 4.15, 4.45 when riders were getting up and leaving and walking past me on smelly feet. Despite the fact that I was under the table their feet were only inches away from me when the walked down the stairs so...

Around 4.45 I noticed that there was an empty sleeping bag, belonging to the control, on the floor so I quickly took possession of it and draped it over my - still wet - wool jersey and body. My towel was dry by now, but the lure of the sleeping bag was irresistible. Even a king size bed in the Sheraton never felt soooo good! I then had another hour of super high quality sleep before I decided to wake up a final time, head downstairs and look for my shoes, helmet, rain coat, booties and rain legs. Cleverly I had draped the items over a range of chairs downstairs and it took 10-15 minutes to locate all of my possessions and make sure I had everything. Then I was out the door, found my bike under the canoe and was off towards Middleton Tyas @ 969km.

It was full daylight now, but the remnants of last nights storm was still blowing around - so still lots of headwind. However, it was only a few km to the top Yad Moss (598m) and then there was a ~25 km long desecent down towards Middleton-in-Teesdale. This was a lovely stretch, despite the headwind which made the downhill a little less faster than it would otherwise have been. In the end it didn’t really matter. I’m riding a Roberts Audax made of Reynolds 953 and it performs really well on long stretches with headwind. Is it because there is a tiny flex in the frame that helps you get around the dead spot a bit easier? Or is it just because of the fact that the riding position in the drop bars is really quite comfortable, even for extended periods of time? Don’t know, but the fact is that I usually ride very well in a head wind.

It was neat to notice how the landscape changed: When leaving the grassy hills in the heights around Yad Moss and Alston the landscape started to get more small-scale relief and small valleys etc. appeard, together with lush (no wonder, with all the rain!) forests. I knew that before the end of the day I would once again be riding on the flatlands of Yorkshire and it was a neat thought that I would traverse this many different types of landscape formations in daylight so that I could properly see the differences as the relief died out and gave way to flatness.

Anyway, that was still several controls and many km’s ahead. Right now a more urgent need was apparent: I had also forgotten to pack a toothbrush and -paste and it was now more than 3 days since I had brushed my teeth. They started to feel woollen so I made a stop in Barnard Castle and got what I needed. Then I continued on past the Bowes Museum and further on to Middleton Tyas, which was only another 20km or so away.

Upon arriving in Middleton Tyas I went straight for the toilets in order to brush up. 3 days of randonneuring food that had accumulated between my teeth were exchanged for a generous helping of Colgate Whitening Control, and sporting my new smile I went to check in with the controllers and get my card stamped. They didn’t notice my sparkling smile, but unaffected I went for the food section and placed my order, then sat down with a randonneur from the US and another from the UK. We chatted a bit while eating our breakfast/lunch/dinner - depending on when you got up a meal at 11 in the morning could be any of the three.

I thought for a bit that if this had been a ‘normal’ grand randonnee, then there would only be a bit more than 200 km to go, no biggie. However, because this was LEL there was more than 400 km to go - so still quite significant, and around 17-20 hours of riding time + breaks. I felt a bit depressed about the thought as I was starting to get a bit bored with the constant riding, stamping, eating, repeat. This was really a very long ride indeed!

Anyway, the bike wouldn’t ride itself and the control card back to Cheshunt, so I had to do it. Consequently I got up and left, grabbing a couple of cookies on the way out the door. Then it was back on the road and down towards Coxwold, which was only 53 km further away, at 1021 km from the start.

En route I had a slight misnavigation at a sign pointing towards Scorton, but I was ahead of the cue sheet, which demanded that I should rode 2.7 km before turning right. I, however, decided that a right turn here would do, but it quickly became apparent that my road led to nowhere except an old abandoned church and so I decided to turn back, retrace and pay attention to cue sheet and distance. Presto, I was in Scorton in no time. Memo to self - interpretation of the cue sheet author’s intentions is always difficult...

The landscape had flattened out a lot and I did enjoy the ride through the farm lands of North Yorkshire (or was it because I felt some strange connection to this land which - rightfully I think - should belong to me and other Danes descending from the great Viking invaders). There was still a headwind (obviously), but it wasn’t raining non-stop, mainly drizzles and sprinkles now and then. Most of the time I rode in my wool jersey and arm warmers. Before I knew of it I was back in Coxwold, where a few days earlier I had been photographed with all the dignitaries of the town when I set off for the ride up north.

There were no such dignitaries upon my arrival this time. In fact, there was hardly anybody there. It was weird walking into a control with more controllers than riders. A rider was sat down here and there by a table, but in general it was wide open. I was sure that a lot of riders were ahead of me, as I had left Alston a bit late (around 6-ish) and a lot of riders had left that control between 4 and 6. Regardless, I went for my drop bag, and pulled of my wet socks and put on a new pair of dry ones - aaahhh, my feet liked that! I also went for the vaseline, as well as for my 2nd spare tire. I had been carrying the tire from day 2 (the one with a stone in it) as a spare but now it was time to ditch that properly and carry a proper spare tire, one that would work right away. I spent 20 minutes or so getting my bike ready to go, as well as getting my butt ready to go, then I washed up and went for the food and coffee.

They had an awesome homemade crumble at Coxwold, it was so good that it didn’t really matter that the custard was Tesco’s premier quality (which is still pretty damned good custard). There was a control somewhere on the route that had homemade custard, but I forget where it was. Regardsless, the crumble was good and so was the hot food and the bacon sandwich I had before that. I chatted with a controller who spotted my rain legs; he had a pair himself and really liked them. I concurred - I still can’t understand why they are not being used a whole lot more. They are great in the rain and cold and will always keep your legs and knees warm and dry, regardless of the conditions.

In Coxwold I also noticed they had times for previous riders, updated at 10.30 Wednesday. By now it was early afternoon, and I looked for names I recognized, either in person or from newsletters and blogs. I noticed that Dave had passed through 10 minutes past midnight, some 14-15 hours ahead of me, so I figured my estimate of him being 24 hours ahead of me back in Cheshunt was still correct.

However, unless I got my sorry butt back on my bike and pointed towards Thorne, the next control, the gap would be even larger. So I collected my belongings (i.e. helmet, gloves, shoes, booties, rain coat), got it all back on, pulled out of the control and started out in the stretch towards Thorne, 89 km ahead and 1110 km from the start.

Strangely, I have very few memories from the strecth of road between Coxwold and Thorne - perhaps I was more tired than I thought at the time? Or was there just not much to remember? I do remember being more and more bored with the entire ride, though, and wondering if I’d ever do a ride as long as LEL again. I passed by the petrol station where I had had the sidewall/broken valve incident a few days earlier and was pleased that I had added more than 700 km to my ride without getting seriously into trouble with flats etc. Such was my state of mind, but I lightened up a bit as I pulled into the Thorne control with plenty of daylight to spare - it was only around 19.00 Wednesday evening.

I got my stamp and sat down to eat. Opposite from me was the Brit I had chatted with in Middleton Tyas earlier in the day. His name was Mark. We talked about plans for the night and the day. My ideas was to continue to Washingborough, 74 km down the road and then sleep there. I figure that if I left in half an hour I could get 1/3 or maybe 1/2 of the way before it got dark - now that we were riding south again it was noticeable that it became darker lighter than in Scotland. Mark’s plan was to sleep in Thorne, as he had slept in Washingborough on the way out, and hadn’t been to impressed with sleeping on the floor there.

It was so early here in the Thorne control that no cots had been booked yet, so there were 40 luxurious beds available. I wavered. If I slept in Thorne I would get AAA+ accommodations, but I would have 300km to London. I had plenty of time to spare before the finish Friday morning, but I really wanted so badly to finish Thursday afternoon/early evening - 4 days on the road was enough, no need to make it into 5 unless mechanical incidents or accidents demanded it.

On the other hand, if I left for Washingborough immediately I could be there around mdinight, sleep 6 hours, and then I’d only have to ride ~230 km the last day, starting at 7 or 8 in the morning - easy peasy! But I would have to fight for sleeping space with probably quite a few other riders. Oh, the decisions the randonneur faces towards the end of the ride and the lure of the blankets must be weighed against the desire to just get it all over with...

In the end the lure of more than 7 hours of sleep in Thorne won me over. If I went to bed at 20.00 and up at 3.30, then left at 4.30 I would get 7.5 hours of sleep, avoid night riding completely the last night and be able to leave at the crack of dawn, thus easily finishing the last 300 km before night fall.

That did it! It enquired with the friendly controllers and 5 quid later I had been issued cot #29 and a blanket to keep me warm. What a difference from the hard wood floor and the lukewarm towel in Alston!! Since I was the first in the room, I was able to find space to hang my socks, jersey, rainlegs and rain coat so that they could dry out (did I mention that it had rained on and off during the day? There was also a headwind, which had worked up the sweat, in case you wondered).

Around 20.00 I had finished my night preparations - I even had time to brush my teeth for the 2nd time that day (luxury!) and take out my contact lenses. Then I laid down on the cot, draped the blanket over my sweaty bibs and undershirt. I had developed some initial trench foot due to my feet being enclosed in neoprene booties inside the shoes all day long. It was great to be able to stick them out under the blanket and feel the air circulate amongst my toes. Then - once again - I fell asleep.

London-Edinburgh-London 2009, part II

LEL 2009 - second half of night two and all of day three...

I fell asleep in a window sill at the Eskdalemuir control Tuesday morning at 3 am, after 45 hours without sleep. 2:45 hours later I woke up again, just in time for breakfast. I looked around and couldn’t recognize the place - where was everybody? When I had fallen asleep the floor had been *packed* with riders everywhere, to the extent that it had been hard walking around without stepping on a sleeping rider. Now, I was almost alone in the room, save for a few other riders who obviously had slept in.

I sat up and decided to lie down for another few minutes, just to maintain an ever-so-small illusion of a lie-in. It did feel good, though, and 5 minutes later I sat up for the second time, determined to get out of ‘bed’ and on to the road. I had a quick cup of coffee and then I walked out to try to find my shoes and my helmet in the hallway. A few minutes later I was all dressed up and ready to go. I filled my water bottles and then I was out the door, making a left turn out of the control in the direction of Edinburgh. As I was leaving the control I had a look at the skies - they were steel grey, apart from a tiny patch with somewhat less grey (off-white?) clouds. A friendly controller spotted me looking at the clouds and cheered me up with a ‘It’s clearing up!’ Summer in Scotland...

Anyway, I got the body going after a few km and got back in the rythm. My butt was starting to let it self known by now, and I was keen to get into a pair of new shorts - waiting in the Edinburgh drop bag, only some 83 km up the road (literally up!) I was also keen to apply some more lubrication to the grinding body parts in contact with the seat via the shorts...

The landscape was really quite beautiful, with lots of rolling hills and long - very long - ascents, followed by just as long descents, from one valley to another. On top of this there was a nice tailwind, but no sun so it was rather chilly and I rode with my arm- and knee warmers on, as I had been doing for essentially the entire ride, apart from a few hours Monday afternoon (when I used sun screen!)

After 45 km a man in a kilt unexpectedly appeared on the road and gestured at me to make a right turn in Traquair- a secret control! It turned out that this was the alternative sleep stop that had been provided to relieve some ‘sleep pressure’ on the Eskdalemuir control - to no avail, obviously... I rolled in and had a quick stamp in my card.

So Scottish...

When I turned around I heard somebody call out my name and I looked up to see Mark Roberts, also from SIR. He had been in the 8am start, so 5.5 hours ahead of me, and had been spending the night in the Traquair stop. He had had some serious problems with his back the entire season and had not had time to get a whole lot of riding in. But he was a very experienced randonneur so he had decided to come over and give the ride a go anyways. I asked him how he was doing and he said his back was killing him on the uphills and the downhills - not the best situation when there was about 300 km ahead before the road flattened somewhat out. He had decided to go to Edinburg and DNF there, then take the train back to London. I felt bad for him, but then again, he would see the entire route and complete half the ride, so would still have lots of memories and experiences from the ride. And an excellent excuse to come back in 2013...

I started to run into a somewhat steady stream of riders returning from Edinburgh, thus some ~100-150 km (5-8 hours) ahead of me. Some of those had been in the 8am start Sunday morning but on a long uphill I spotted a downhill rider greeting me - that was Dave, on his way back from Edinburgh to his 2nd visit at the Eskdalemuir control. He looked fast and I reckoned he would be back in London ~24 hours ahead of me. A few minutes later I spotted Rick Blacker from SIR, going downhill on the homestretch very fast. Rick had started at 8 am, and was riding strong. He was definitely more than 5.5 hours ahead of me. We shouted a greeting to each other and then we continued on!

Me at ~650km

I stopped quite frequently on this stretch to take some pictures of the landscape and the sheep, which were abundant. There were not quite as many sheep as there had been in Wales when I lived there, but there was still a good number of fluffy white dots on the hillsides in almost any direction. To some extent it felt like home (when home was Bangor in Wales) and brought back the memories of many descents from Llyn Ogwen towards Bethesda - a very nice 8km descent if you should feel so inclined...

After a long ascent that crested in what seemed to be a cut in the hillside the road took a sharp right and I found myself looking out over the flatlands (at least that was what it looked like from above) below me - and Edinburgh in the horizon! It was now just a matter of pointing the front wheel in the downhill direction and coast some 15km into the halfway point at Dalkeith rugby club, on the outskirts of Edinburgh!

Edinburgh!

After a *fabulous* 15 km of coasting, during which I met many return riders slogging their way uphill towards Eskdalemuir - in a strong headwind - I arrived at the halfway point in Dalkeith @ 716km around 11.30 am Tuesday, some 46 hours after the start. This didn’t really promise too well for my initial plan to try to be back in London in 96 hours. It wasn’t that I was feeling tired or sleepy - as weird as it may sound the 2:45 hours of sleep in Eskdalemuir helped a lot on my sleepiness. It was more the fact that I was looking into something like a 450 km stretch of more or less constant headwinds until I came back down towards Thurlby or something like that. That could turn out to be a bit of a drag in the long(!) run...

Dalkeith - halfway!

Anyway, I got my stamp and my drop bag. Then I set out to find the showers in order to - not shower, as I had also forgotten to pack shampoo etc. in my drop bags - but to change my bike shorts, which I had been wearing since Sunday morning. It felt *really* good to get everything out in the open for a few moments until the new shorts came on, together with a huge helping of vaseline on the chafed bits and pieces. Then it was back into the control for yet another lunch and a bit of chilling before it was back on the bike. Mark pulled in and came over to sit down and chat for a bit. He had just handed over his brevet card and DNF’ed; now he was planning to have a lunch and the roll the 12 k into central Edinburgh and the railroad station, then let a friendly railroad company take him and his bike back to London.

After another 10-20 minutes or so we bid each other farewell and I walked out the door to my trusty steed of steel, ready to begin the return trip to London. The first 2 km went well, then I incredibly took the wrong turn in a roundabout and discovered my mistake at the end of a very long downhill 5 km later. After a few moments of #$@$%@ I crossed the road and slogged uphill to the roundabout and the correct exit. This wasn’t the most promising start on the return trip... After having made the correct exit in the roundabout I found myself on familiar roads and, reassuringly, a steady stream of riders coming towards Dalkeith.

The uphill from Dalkeith wasn’t really so bad initially, it was more the constant headwind, which would accompany me for the next 300 km or so that was annoying and slowed progress down quite a bit. 10 km out from Dalkeith I made a right turn onto the road that would eventually lead me back into the highlands I had been riding through the same morning, but the feel was quite different now, with the wind in my face riding uphill. I found myself crawling along at a mere 10 km per hour or so and decided that I needed some more speed in order to get anywhere. So I started pedalling more determined in a slightly higher gear and found, as so often before, that going faster was easier than going slow. I was now ‘cruising’ uphill at 15-18 k/h and felt a bit more comfortable on the bike in the higher gear and low in the drop bars - although my butt was now really quite painful. Oh well, it would only be another 700 km in agony before it was over.

As I approached the summit of the ascent the wind increased in intensity and it started to sprinkle a bit. I stopped to put on my booties and rain coat, then proceeded towards Eskdalemuir in increasingly ominous-looking clouds. The wind was really quite strong and at times I had to stand up an pedal on the downhills in order to move the bike forward; rather depressing when there was some ~660 km left of the ride. As I crested one little pass after the other I could see riders ahead of me, slowly moving ahead towards Eskedalmuir in the headwind. Very few were riding in groups, most were riding alone, as I did. One exception was a large group of riders coming up from behind on a descent, screaming along doing 30-40 km/hr which, considering the state of the road (lots of small gravel) seemed a bit risky to me. As they passed me the front rider yelled out ‘HOLE!’ and the entire group jumped left and right around a massive pothole, easily 0.5 m in diameter, in the road. Would have been an interesting sight had one of them gone into it...

After a couple of hours I made it to Traquair in mid-afternoon and stopped for a few minutes to use the toilet and re-apply some lubrication on my worn out butt. Then I grabbed a few cookies and headed for Eskdalemuir, which I reached in reasonable style around 17.30 - some 11 hours after I had left it. It had taken me that long to ride 166km, and I had spent less than an hour in Dalkeith, so 10+ hours to do 166km (plus the ~10 k detour), half of which was in a very strong tailwind - it looked as if it could take a while to get back to London!

I sat down in Eskdalemuir for another dinner, and also treated myself to a Coke from the controllers. A tired rider sat beside me, waiting for a cot to be ready. He was constantly nodding off but after 10-15 minutes he was told that a bed was ready and he left. He was replaced with an Italian rider who apparently wasn’t too excited about the food (which at Eskdalemuir was veggie chilli, jacket potatoes with fillings and cheese, and rice pudding - I loved it). Maybe in Italy they’re being treated to pasta and pizza on their brevets?

Shortly before 19:00 I was back on the bike, headed for Alston, now at the 894km mark. It was raining rather steadily now, and the wind was increasing - still right in the nose. 7 km outside of the control I encountered a rider still en route for Edinburgh - that would be a lot of work to get home to London before the closing Friday morning. The oncoming rider was leaned over heavily to the right, to compensate for the head wind coming at an angle at that particular stretch. I wondered if I did the same when I was riding in a head wind. My legs felt good and despite the headwind I was doing 22-26 km/hour more or less constantly. Soon I started to catch up to some riders that had started ahead of me and it gave me the energy to put even more power into the pedals to fight the wind. I was soaking wet from rain and sweat (in an ironic twist, I washed my rain coat a few weeks before departure, and then forgot to treat it with water repellant, so it was less waterproof than usual, but still a whole lot better than nothing).

The advantage of being this far north was that daylight lasts until 22:30 or so. The dark skies made the fall of darkness come a bit earlier than that, but I was nevertheless happy about being able to get 2/3 or so of the distance to Alston covered before it got completely dark. And it did get completely dark. The last 30 km to Alston were far away from any towns or villages and I was completely and utterly alone in the pitch black night, in the pouring rain, with a - by now - gale force wind right in the face. It was almost surreal riding along on the road, which felt as if it was gently climbing for miles and miles. It was very twisting too, and no matter which way I went there was a head wind. Some people go down mentally when they encounter conditions like that, but for the most part those exact conditions are what I was used to from Wales in the winter time. Still, I was surprised to see me being able to maintain a 22-24 k/h speed on most of that strecth. The only part that felt really long was the last 4-6 km into Alston proper. I spotted the street lights from far away (first light apart from my bike lights in almost an hour!) and thought I would be there in a flash. But the road kept going up and down, twisting and turning, without the lights getting seemingly a whole lot closer. Frustrating!

Finally I made it into Alston and it was now only a 3 km climb out of town up towards the outdoor centre. There was a section with cobblestone in the centre of town which I walked, but then it was back on the bike for a 14% section - uphill - in a gale force head wind... I spotted a couple of taillights in the distance and I seemed to gain on them very fast, despite me going only 6-9 km/hr. It turned out to be a couple of randonneurs walking up the hill in the pouring rain. I passed them and pressed on upwards and 10 minutes later I pulled in at the Alston control. Upon arrival it took forever to find a parking spot for my bike - hundreds of bikes were parked and strewn all over the garden and grounds - a sign of hundres of riders inside. Finally I managed to find a prime spot under some canoes and went inside.

I got my stamp just after midnight; it was now officially Wednesday morning and the controllers informed me that I would be given 2 hour time credit due to the horrendous weather conditions and because they wouldn’t have riders trying to ride across the Pennines in the middle of the night in this kind of weather. Understandable, it was pitch black dark outside and the rain was hammering on the windows. I had dinner and then enquired about the possibilities for a place to sleep. The earliest bed would be available at 3.30 am, which was 2 hours away. I decided that the hard wood floor would be an excellent alternative and asked if they had any blankets. Nope. But they did have a towel that had been in the dryer for about 15 minutes so it was still very moist, but at least it was a lukewarm moist. I went upstairs to the lounge above the dining room where dozens of riders were sprawled out on the floor. Some of them had sleeping bags from the control, the lucky bastards... Guess this was the reward for being in the 8.00 start - getting to the controls early and get the beds and blankets before the lazy 13.30 starters...

Anyway, I looked around in the darkness and tried to determine a spot that wasn’t occupied by a sleeping/snoring cyclist. There were no such spots. Then I spotted a small, square coffee table next to the stairs. If I curled up in fetal position (foetal position for UK readers) I might just fit underneath it - it would have the added benefit that nobody would walk on me when they got up later in the morning. I tried it and the table had just the right size! It was 1.30 am Wednesday morning. I laid down on the comfy hard wood floor in my wet bike clothes, draped the moist, now not-so-lukewarm towel over me and fell asleep.