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. 

Rocky Mountain 1200 Day 1

The 2012 Rocky Mountain 1200 - day 1 - Kamloops to Jasper

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.  Things were looking pretty good. 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 not quite so good some 40 hours earlier, Sunday evening around 21.30. Half an hour before the start of the RM 1200 and I was still wondering what to wear. I was at the start line, signed in and my bike ready to go. The forecast was iffy, to say the least, calling for rain all night long but at 21.45 it was still dry. I was standing outside waiting for the start, with 3 layers of wool and arm warmers. Roger Holt, the ride organizer stepped onto the road to say a few words before the start and as on cue a few drops fell, then a few more and within a minute it was a deluge. Then we were given permission to go. 100 riders or so pulled out in the pouring rain from the Kamloops Curling Club. Great. I needed to change already, even before the start. I looked at Dave who said ‘Let’s wait a few minutes’. We were under the awning and didn’t feel any particular need to get out in the pouring rain and the wet from our dry little spot. I put on my rain jacket and Sheena and Tony came up to us. ‘Ready to go?’. Indeed we were, so with a 5 minute delay we left the KCC and began the first pedal strokes of the RM 1200.

After 2-3 km we were onto the # 5 highway, which we’d follow almost all the way to Jasper and my first planned overnight control, 446 km down the road. At least it wasn’t too windy. It was raining fairly hard, with periods of lighter rain but it was constant. After 20 minutes or so Dave took off, in search of faster riders ahead to ride with. He always did. I had lost touch with Sheena and Tony and was just looking ahead of the string of taillights up the road ahead of me. I looked ahead on my front light. This was the first time I was running my Schmidt Edelux for real, and I was thrilled with the light it gave off. I felt I was able to light up the entire world. When you ride at night your entire world view reduces to what you can see in your front light, nothing else matters at all, so you might say that riding with the Edelux really expanded my world and the entire ride experience.

I passed by a group of riders tending to a flat on the side of the road. I saw Dave there. 10 minutes later he passed me, mumbling something about helping out in the group he was in. Then he was off again. There was some traffic but it was pretty light. Every few minutes a big semi would blast by, but they pulled over almost to the left so it felt very safe. There was some lightning in the mountains ahead of us. Whenever there was a flash one would get a second or so to see what the country side looked like. One flash and you’d be riding in a forested area.  Another flash 5 minutes later and you’d find yourself riding along a lake. A third flash some time later made you realize you were now riding in the open country side. It was fun to suddenly find yourself in these different geographies without experiencing the transitions you would get in the day or on a clear night. The poor man’s version of teleportation.

I passed another group of riders tending another flat and once again Dave was there! Quite the helpful guy... 10 minutes later he passed me again and I asked what was going on. He mentioned that somebody didn’t have a pump and then took off again. This was the last time I’d see him for a day and a half. He’s a strong, fast rider. 

It was half way to the first control at Clear Water (125 km) and I was now riding with James from Ontario. Like me, he had never before been riding out west in BC and we were both looking forward to see what the next few days would bring. We chatted on and off as we rolled along doing 25 km/h or so. I was hoping to be in Jasper no later than 22 hours after the start, Monday evening at 20:00 so 25 km/hr would be a good speed for that target, if I wasn’t spending too much time in controls and in between. Or had too many flats. 

I was slightly concerned about flats. In the rain there’s usually a bit more flats and contrary to traditional rando advise I was trying something new on this ride: New tires, a set of Grand Bois 700x28, which I had tried out for a 50 k test ride in Seattle and found to be amazingly smooth, soft and comfortable. Another SIR member, Jan Heine, has spent a large part of the last few years testing tires and reporting on the tests. His main conclusion: Fatter tires with supple casings at low pressure roll up to 20% faster than skinnier tires at higher pressures, and the Grand Bois tires roll fastest of them all. Jan has 650x42 tires on his bicycles, and he routinely rides a 600 k brevet in 24 hours or a 1200 k in 50-54 hours. (He is also in better shape than I; it’s not just the tires). However, my Roberts Audax Compact is built for 700cc tires. 700x28 was the largest I had ever had on it; I’d normally have  a 700x25 in the front but now I had the same size front and rear. Makes things easier after all. Anyway, I had no idea how resistant they would be to flats and I had read both praises and complaints about them on various blogs. A couple of hours into the ride I hit a big chunk of rock on the road in the dark with both tires. Wham! The entire bike shook! But I rolled on and there was no hissing sound from either tire, nor any damage to rims or wheels. I was very impressed. The impact had been significant, but no flats of other damage. I eased up a bit and figured that the Grand Bois were probably OK after all. As it turned out, I was not to have a single flat the entire ride.

20 km or so before the first control at Clearwater Ron Himschoot passed us, together with a train of ladies. Ron likes riding with the ladies, or they like to ride with him. Either way, James and I latched on to the back of the train and we continued on towards Clearwater in a pace line 10 riders long. A couple of km outside of Clearwater the rain intensified tremendously and there was standing water on the road, it was coming down extremely hard! Then it eased up and the lights of the first control materialized. I pulled up and parked. Outside it was packed with bikes, presumably all the riders that had left 5-10 minutes before me at the start. I got out my brevet card, went inside, had it stamped, filled up my bottles, grabbed a sandwich and left again at 3:29 Monday morning after spending 4 minutes at the first control. 124 km down, 1080 km to go.

I then began the 110 km stretch towards Blue River, still on the # 5 highway. Ahead of me I could see a few tail lights from randos ahead of me. Occasionally I would catch up to a rider and pass him or her, exchange a few good mornings and then roll on. Dawn slowly started to roll around and I could see more of the surroundings and experience the transitions from hill to valley - no more teleportation... It was now obvious that we were riding up the river valley of the North Thompson River and the road followed the river very closely. Between the road and the river was the railroad and the early morning silence would occasionally be interrupted by a passing train. It was still raining fairly heavily so although the scenery was becoming a bit more dramatic I felt no desire to stop and pull out my camera for a picture. I passed through Avola too early for anything to be open, but I didn’t need anything anyways. I had loads of Cliff gels and Gatorade on the bike and I was very cautious about drinking every 10 minutes and eating every 20-30 km in order not to bonk. Despite the rain and the not-too-warm temperatures I was feeling good, especially as it got brighter and brighter.

The road tilted up and the cue sheet indicated Messiter Summit @ 765 m although it didn’t seem much of a summit. The views were getting nicer nonetheless with hills, mountains and forests all over the place. I spotted a rider up ahead and when I caught up to him I realized it was Hugh from SIR. We had worked the Cascade 1200 a month earlier, he as kitchen chief and me as controller on all three overnight controls for that ride. I rode the Cascade 1200 in 2008 but working it in 2012 turned out to be just as hard as riding it... Hugh had ridden the pre-ride for the Cascade 1200 in mid-June AND the Colorado High Country 2 weeks before the RM 1200. This was his third 1200 in 6 weeks... We chatted for a bit and before we knew it we were rolling into the second control at Blue River, 232 km down and 972 km to go and around 8:25 in the morning, some 10 hours after the start. 

I had planned for a longer stop here in order to get breakfast and the control didn’t disappoint in that respect: Lots of warm coffee, sausages, bacon, hash browns, etc. I had it all and more and felt quite revived after having spent half an hour or so sitting down and chilling out. I filled up my bottles and rolled out on the third leg towards Valemount, a couple of minutes after Hugh had left the control.

It was dry now, but cloudy and it seemed that the rain could start again any time. At least there wasn’t much wind and progress was good, rolling along up the river valley at 23-25 km/hr. After 20 km or so I caught up to Hugh again, and passed him. There was a rumble strip on the shoulder, and a few seconds after I had crossed back over it in order to ride to the right of the white shoulder line I heard the noise of a bike on the rumble strip behind me. A second later I heard a voice yelling out “OH NO, OH NO, OH NO!’. I looked over my right shoulder and managed to see Hugh and his bicycle go off the shoulder and disappear down the steep embankment along the side of the road. Then he and his bike disappeared in the shrubbery at the bottom. I braked as hard as I could and ran back to where Hugh had gone off the road. ‘Hugh, Hugh, are you OK? Say something!’ I heard some moaning below me and there was Hugh, all tangled up in his bike and the local flora. I slid down the slope and pulled out his bike from below him. Another rider had stopped on top of the embankment and together we pulled up Hugh’s bike so we could get to Hugh who was more or less upside down and face first in the dirt at the bottom. We then got him upright and up to the road again. Incredibly, nothing had happened to his bike except the right shifter had taken a hit and had been bent, but was still working. His handlebar bag had come partially of, and there was grass and twigs in drivetrain and wheels. Hugh was OK too, except for being a bit shook up, and after a couple of minutes where we all tried to reassure each other that all was OK we all got back on our bikes and rolled on. Hugh was riding fine, but decided to take it a bit slow for a while and I continued on after making sure he didn’t need anything. 

Shortly after it started to rain again, and it intensified the rest of the morning and early afternoon as I rolled on towards Valemount. By the time I reached Valemount it was raining quite heavily and I was glad to roll into the control around 13:00 Monday afternoon after 15 hours on the road. 322 km down and 882 km to go. Ward Bebe from SIR was standing outside of the control, being interviewed by a local TV crew - he can be seen on YouTube: http://youtu.be/uPw0z-G2H84 

I was glad to get to Valemount and spent the better part of an hour there eating, drinking and drying out. John Pearch and Ian Shopland were there as well, together with Mark Roehrig. Ian and Mark pulled out a bit before I did, and John a bit afterwards. Then it was on to Jasper - the last leg of the day before the overnight!

The rain got worse and worse as I rode north towards Jasper. At Valemount some riders had said there was a rain warning for Jasper, with more than 4 inches of rain forecast for the evening and night, together with thunderstorms. Lovely. That would be rough to ride through. As it is, it already wasn’t too much fun. I was reasonable dry, but my hands and feet were wet. However, at least they were warm. I had invested in new Pearl Izumi gloves just before leaving Seattle and they worked out just brilliantly, keeping my little pinkies warm even if they were wet. My legs were completely dry to, thanks to my rainlegs who kept my thighs and knees warm in all kinds of weather. In Seattle I had commuted an entire winter in normal cycling shorts, kneewarmers and rainlegs down to a couple of degrees above freezing, without ever being cold. They just worked wonderfully to keep you warm and dry. 

However, being warm was only possible if you kept moving. As I rolled on I passed riders here and there who had stopped to fix flats. In the rain it would be a challenge to stop for more than a few minutes to fix a flat without getting seriously cold - the temperature was around 10C or so, so you’d have to be quick in order not to start shaking! 

I turned off the # 5 highway, and onto # 16, the final approach to Jasper. After a couple of hours I caught up to Ian Shopland and after a short while we were passed by 3 very fast riders. I recognized the first one: Nigel Press from BC, one of the riders in the 84 hour start group, all of whom had started at 4:00 Monday morning, 6 hours later than us. We were not even 400 km into the ride and they had already ridden that distance 6 hours faster than we had - impressive! Nigel were to finish in 52 hours and change, sleeping only a couple of hours during the entire ride. 

We crossed into Alberta and the National Park boundary. At the start we had all been issued with passes for the parks, so we could just rode up to the window, smile to the park ranger behind the booth and they’d wave you through. Super well organized. Immediately after entering Jasper National Park there was a massively big sign pointing out that bears of all kinds and sizes were dangerous and that one should stay in ones vehicle if a bear was spotted. Reassuring information when you’re on a bicycle and hails from a country where the most dangerous animal you could possibly encounter on a bike ride would be a barking dog. I had no plans to abandon my bike should I encounter a bear! But I didn’t see any wildlife at all, apart from birds here and there, and after another couple of hours in the rain I rolled into Jasper at 19.29. Jasper looked as a *very* nice place to spend a few days - even in the summer. I’ll have to come back one day, that is for sure. The control was easy to find in the middle of the town, and there were plenty of controllers helping out with the bike, hanging my wet bike clothes up etc. I sat down for a big serving of Shepherd’s Pie and soup, which felt really good. Then I had a shower and suddenly felt ready for bed. My distance for the first day was 450 km down and 754 km to go. I had arrived 30 minutes prior to my schedule - I was very pleased with that given the rainy and somewhat chilly conditions. That said, I had ridden the 1400 km London-Edinburgh-London in 2009, and no bike ride I have ever been on before or after that ride compares in ugliness. LEL 2009 was a disgustingly wet ride and I spent only a few hours (out of 102:30 hours total time) on that ride without wearing my full rain gear. Compared to LEL 2009, RM 2012 so far had been like a pleasant afternoon ride in the park. 

I asked for a bed and was taken to the sleep facility where I was issued with a sleeping pad and a microfiber blanket. I asked to be woken up 4 hour later, at 1.30 and was then off to lala-land. 

London-Edinburgh-London 2009, the prologue II...

LEL - the prologue part II

Tuesday morning I boarded the train for Portsmouth (via Crediton, Exeter St. Davids and Southampton) and Tuesday afternoon I was in Portsmouth.  The train took me right down to the Harbor and I walked down to the Gunwharf Quays. The Gunwharf Quays are the old gunwharfs(!), where the once so majestic British Navy would be outfitted with guns, gunpowder, biscuits, rum, bullets, shanghaied sailors, opium, prostitutes and whatever else was needed to run an empire.  Nowadays it is full of fancy shops and small ugly hotdog stands.

There were plenty of memorabilia left from the golden old days when the Brits ruled the 7 seas and everything inbetween: HMS Warrior , HMS Victory, which Nelson, the scoundrel, used to defeat the Glorious Danish Navy in the Battle of Copenhagen 2 April 1801 . Maybe I could smuggle some gunpowder onboard and, if placed in the right locations, finally get some revenge for the defeat...?

But first I had to meet Kathryn for a beer or several (well, it was a given that it would be several; only question was the time between them). After some serious txting Bar 38  was chosen as a starting point and I sat down in an enormous chair shaped like a crown, waiting for her to get off work.  While waiting I had a Fosters , and then another when she showed up.  After chatting for a bit about what had happened since last time we saw each other (15 months), we dropped off my stuff at her place on the outskirts of town and I had a Carlsberg from her fridge.  She had a nice view of the tidal channels and the mudflats in front of her apartment, something I could appreciate with my sedimentology background. 

Then we were off to an Indian restaurant for some typical classic British food - the curry - and a seriously sized Cobra beer. After dinner we walked along the now most empty Gunwharf but ended up in The Old Customs House , where 2 Seafarers Ale ended their life in my lager-lined stomach. At midnight the establishment decided it was time to close down, so despite our reluctance to leave we had to, although we were the absolute last to haul ourselves out of there. Then it was back in a taxi to Kathryn’s place and off to bed before next mornings most delicious treat - a fried brekkie from a greasy spoon on the waterfront. It wasn’t Mike’s Bites - it was almost better (!) and I left Portsmouth for Bangor with a happy stomach and liver.  

Tally for the 20 hours or so I spent in Portsmouth: 2 Foster’s, 1 Carlsberg, 1 Cobra and 2 Seafarers Ale, roughly on par when compared with my time spent in Crediton. What was not on par was the train fare for my trip Portsmouth-London-Bangor-London-(Portsmouth), which were cheaper than any other return trip option to get me to London after visiting Bangor. However, it still came to bloody 97 quid for second class tickets!  Normally one should be able to get a flight from the UK to Mallorca and back for that kind of money, but unfortunately I wasn’t going to Mallorca. I was going to Bangor. To visit friends. So I had to pay. And with a lighter wallet I was on my way to the green pastures of NW-Wales and the slate-grey streets of Bangor.

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.