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. 

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, 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.