Passione Celeste

by Mark Pritchard

  Lots of people have asked me why I’m riding Lejog. I don’t have any specific reason other than it has been on my mind for a long time. I think it’s probably a combination of the chance to see a lot of Britain in a short time; the buzz of riding in new places and with new people; and the lure of the ‘prize’ of getting to the end. And not forgetting the bragging rights that I will hopefully earn!

  3. LAND’S END TO JOHN O’GROATS

  Saturday 15 August 2015

  The Lejogers Assemble

  It’s early evening and the team is gathering at our base, The Long Boat Inn in Penzance. We’re getting to know each other and there’s a lot of chatter about how much riding we each do, who’s done a ride like this before, and so on. A good sign is that there’s a lot of laughter over the dinner table and it’s mostly of the happy, not nervous sort. With so many new faces it’s going to take a while to learn everyone’s names.

  Many of us are strangers to each other so it’s interesting to hear how we introduce ourselves. One or two are quite bold in their claims. Others, including me, are a bit more modest. One thing that is quickly apparent is that whatever our individual motivations, we all share a heartfelt desire to make it to the finish in John O’Groats. Everyone is here because they want to be here. No one is here because they have to be here. During our introductions I learnt that the group includes three nurses and a doctor, so potential injuries should be well covered.

  I’m sharing a room with Mike, a retired police officer who lives in Norfolk and who has taken up cycling in earnest since he retired. As we were unpacking we discovered that we both seem to like similar brands of kit (Sidi Shoes, Castelli clothing, Kask helmets). Mike will be riding a Cannondale bike but I won’t hold that against him!

  Martyn, our leader, has asked us to appear for breakfast at 7am tomorrow before we leave for Land’s End at 8am. The aim is to start riding as close to 8:30am as possible. So, an early night beckons…

  Sunday 16 August 2015, 81 Miles

  Stage 1: Cornish Ups and Downs

  It all started gently: we unloaded our bikes from the support van, checked everything over, posed for the obligatory photos and then… we were off!

  The first few miles to Penzance were fairly easy with some gentle climbs and descents. A long(ish) slog out of Penzance raised the heart rate and gave a foretaste of what was to come! From then on it was exhilarating stuff, mostly up or down, sometimes steeply up and down, and once or twice very steeply up. The steepness of the climbs wasn’t always matched by the gradients of the descents. It was rather challenging and yet quite rewarding. Several people had told me that the first two days through Cornwall and Devon would be the toughest of the whole tour. I was quite pleased to discover that I seemed to be handling the ride well. Living in a flat part of the country I often have some nagging doubts about how I will cope in hillier terrain.

  We passed through lots of typically small Cornish villages, some with intriguing names: Praze-an-Beeble, Playing Place and Penpillick are just a few. Setting off early on a Sunday morning meant that the roads were quiet. As the morning wore on each successive village that we went through seemed to be at a slightly more advanced stage of waking up than its predecessor. In the earliest places the few people I saw were collecting their newspapers. I guessed most others were enjoying a lie in. Gradually, I saw more signs of life, until by lunchtime the pub car parks were starting to fill up as families and friends gathered for lunch. We also went through some large and rather busier places: Truro, with a short cobbled section, and St Austell.

  Already the tour was breaking down into smaller groups with riders of similar abilities coalescing together. I found myself in the front group with half a dozen others. Three of the riders, Michael, Nick and Stuart, already knew each other. Andy and Geoff from the North East hadn’t met before. Then there was Vince, who was from Hereford. We chatted amongst ourselves from time to time – some more so than others! Little did I know what this process of self-selection would lead to in the days ahead.

  The ride was broken up by the welcome sight of Ray, who is driving the support van with our kit. But more importantly, Ray also has a great talent: that of producing a roadside snack or lunch stop at exactly the right moment. I bought Ray a beer this evening after we finished riding, so hopefully he’ll remember me when he’s handing out the grub and drinks tomorrow!

  After a last sharp climb we arrived at The Nebula Hotel in Liskeard. A shower, a drink and a great dinner, followed by a good night’s sleep, was the prescription for tomorrow’s riding: the crossing of Dartmoor. Over dinner I sat next to Cormac and found out that he was a mental health specialist and was soon to retire from the Army to set up in private practice. He was a newcomer to cycling but Lejog held no fears for him. Having done active service in Afghanistan and Iraq he thought Lejog would be a walk in the park. Did I mention that he was Irish?

  Monday 17 August 2015, 67 Miles

  Stage 2: Up and Over Dartmoor Followed by a Few (Killer) Hills

  Most people I’ve spoken to about Lejog get a knowing look in their eyes when talking about the second day. Well, from today I’ve acquired that same knowing look. Leaving Liskeard we set out at a gentle pace and made good progress. I had a bonding moment with fellow rider, Andy, when I lost my balance and nearly knocked him over at a crossroads while I was looking round to make sure there were no other riders behind me. The rest of the group will tell you that I was more likely staring at another cyclist, not part of our group, who was studying her map for directions. Anyway, there was no damage done apart from minor bruising of my ego.

  We made good progress towards Tavistock with a few long but not especially steep climbs. Gradually Dartmoor came into view and we were quickly onto the famed Rundlestone Climb (Warren #11). This takes you up to the top of Dartmoor. Apart from a couple of sections at the start, it is not especially steep, but it is long – very long. I completed the climb in 31 minutes. The target time in Simon Warren’s book of hill climbs is 28 minutes so I was quite pleased with my attempt.

  Then after regrouping we managed to roll along quite briskly over the top of Dartmoor. So briskly that Andy and I failed to spot Ray waiting at the roadside with lunch, so my beer bribery the previous evening had been wasted. After debating whether or not to turn back, once we had realised our mistake, Andy and I rode on to Moretonhampstead. There we dined alfresco on the best fare that the local Co-op store had to offer.

  After our quick lunch we were off again and the ‘fun’ really started: a constant succession of steep climbs and sharp descents as we crossed the deep valleys in this part of south-west Devon. These were really strength-sapping and on a couple of them I could barely manage to keep moving forward. My long weeks of training certainly paid off today; this was some of the hardest riding I have done for a very long time.

  Following a very steep descent to Crediton we were through the toughies with only a long drag and a few kicks up before reaching Tiverton, our overnight base. My tired old legs certainly knew they had been given a workout today. Following a refreshing shower as soon as I arrived, I felt half-human again!

  Tuesday 18 August 2015, 89 Miles

  Stage 3: Crossing Borders

  After the last couple of tough days, today was a lot easier. The accumulated miles and an evolving mindset when facing a climb mean that I’m more inclined to take these challenges in my stride – or rather, pedal strokes. Don’t get me wrong, the riding isn’t getting massively easier; I’m just getting a bit better at rising to the challenges. And what’s great is that as a group we’re getting to know each other and a real team spirit is developing. Much of this happens quietly without fuss, but when one of us is feeling the pressure of the pace others in the team close ranks and help each other through the moment. The seven of us (Andy, Geoff, Michael, Nick, Stuart, Vince and me) seem very well matched both in riding ability and temperament. There’s lots of banter too – al
l of it good-natured. So, I’m having great fun.

  Today’s riding was quite varied. There were some fast, flat sections across Somerset assisted by a tailwind. There were also some short, steep hills as well as the challenge of riding through several very busy industrial estates to get around the west side of Bristol. And best of all, was the thrill of crossing the Severn Suspension Bridge and entering Wales, my home country. Arriving at St Arvans, just north of Chepstow, we were greeted by our smiling host, Elizabeth who was bearing jugs of homemade lemonade – what a welcome! It’s the little touches like this that can make such a difference at the end of a long day in the saddle.

  I have a routine that I like to go through when I reach our destination. My two priorities are to inspect, clean and service my bike, followed by a hot shower before I do anything else. Sharing rooms means that I need to be a tad flexible depending on my roomie’s priorities as to whether it’s bike first and then shower, or vice versa. Once I’ve completed my routine I’m almost human again and quite sociable. If my routine is disrupted then I guess I must seem like a grumpy old git!

  With my routine intact and a bit of spare time available I loaded up my day’s stats to Strava and then wrote up my blog. Not having Interweb access is the other thing that can bring out the grumpy old git in me. I know this shouldn’t be an issue and I don’t want it to interfere with or spoil my enjoyment, but it’s surprising how something which is rather trivial risks becoming an issue! Having access to the Interweb also means that I can check in to see who has sent me messages of encouragement and support. It’s great to read these when I arrive at our new base at the end of each day’s riding; they really do ease those aching legs. And I can see how the fundraising is coming along. Quite well, as it happens.

  Suitably refreshed and networked we all headed for dinner at The Piercefield, an excellent pub a couple of hundred yards away from the B&B. I replenished the day’s calorie deficit with some very tasty whitebait followed by a nicely done steak. Did I have a dessert? Well, it would have been rude not to! Looking at the route map in bed before I turned the light off, there is a great sense of progress. Land’s End really does seem quite far away now. John O’Groats doesn’t seem any nearer, though!

  Wednesday 19 August 2015, 75 (+17) Miles

  Stage 4: Heading North at Last

  After a hearty breakfast prepared by our charming host Elizabeth, it was time to clip in to the pedals and ride off. Today was the first day that felt like we were really heading north, with each turn of the cranks putting us closer to John O’Groats. And a chance to reflect that we had now put a significant chunk of England – the South West peninsula – behind us.

  We happily spun along the spectacular Wye Valley past the ruins of Tintern Abbey and seemed to be in Monmouth in no time at all. Our little group of seven was in high spirits with lots of chatter amongst us. We’re all still learning about each other, so conversation makes the miles fly by. All too soon we arrived at the first of Ray’s Alfresco Diners for a welcome refuel and hot coffee. Then we were off again, darting between England and Wales as we followed the border. This is beautiful countryside with lots of small(ish) hills separating a series of hidden valleys.

  I found myself riding with Vince, who I hadn’t yet had a chance to chat to very much. So this was an opportunity for us to get to know each other a bit better. Vince is a relatively new cyclist and has been doing some riding with his father. He hopes to do a tour with him at some point, perhaps from London to Paris. Vince is a quantity surveyor and lives in Hereford. He had quite a few questions for me about some of the secrets of cycling kit and equipment, so we weren’t short of things to chat about and the miles rolled by almost unnoticed.

  As we continued northwards I joined up with Andy again and we rode the last leg together. Andy is a metallurgist and works in Gateshead. While we were riding along together I discovered that he was a real ale aficionado and brews his own beer. I told him that he could be in for a pleasant surprise tonight. I hope I’m right. A few steep climbs, sometimes up to 20 per cent, helped boost our heart rates. All too soon signs for Clun appeared and then with a steep climb, followed by a long, fast descent, another climb and a final descent, Clun was in front of us.

  Once we arrived I then set off on a little ride of my own to visit my Mum and Dad who are buried nearby in Lydbury North. Mum said my bike was rather dirty, but I was always a messy boy! Thanks, Mum. Then it was a quick whizz back to Clun with a photo stop outside The Sun; I have a photo of the last time I was here with a bike, also a Bianchi, in 1974. Very little has changed.

  I finished the day on a slightly surreal note when I arrived at my B&B to be met by the landlord. In my slightly addled end-of-ride state I mistook him for Geoff, one of our team. Consequently, our initial communication didn’t quite connect, especially when I asked him if he’d got any spare dry lube that I could have. I think mine host concluded that I was the village idiot.

  Oh, I nearly forgot to mention that it rained for most of the day. But who cares!

  Thursday 20 August 2015, 77 Miles

  Stage 5: Rollin’ Rollin’ Rollin’ Rollin’ Keep Those Wheels Rollin’

  ‘Good morning Mark. I hope you slept well. Would you like the cyclist’s breakfast?’ That was the cheery greeting that welcomed me to Day 5 of this adventure. Well, the cyclists’ breakfast started with porridge and seeds (all organic) drizzled with honey from local bees. Followed by scrambled eggs (local free range hens), freshly baked granary bread and homemade marmalade, washed down with freshly ground coffee. I must say that the porridge was the best I have ever eaten. And the rest of the breakfast was pretty good too. So, suitably fuelled, I felt ready for anything that the road could throw at us.

  We left Clun up a sharp but short climb. The seven of us were riding together again and within a couple of miles we ground to a halt as Andy had a problem with his rear disc brake. In a nutshell, it seemed to have seized, and then we realised that the brake pad was missing. So we all started peering at the road verge, looking for the missing pad. Amazingly we found it fairly quickly and within just a few minutes we were under way again. This was the true team spirit developing. Having to stop so soon after the start was never going to be an issue. Any one of us could have had the mechanical, and the rest of us were ready, willing and able to help solve the problem.

  After the enforced halt we then hit a long uphill drag with a magnificent view west towards the mountains of Snowdonia and north across the Cheshire plain. I found myself riding with Andy again, who set a determined pace. I sensed that Andy was exorcising his mechanical demons so I tucked in behind him and let him pull me along. A very fast (40 mph+) descent brought us on to level ground which was then with us for the rest of the day. If I’d closed my eyes (not advisable on a bike) I could almost have been back home in Suffolk. With a favourable tailwind we flew along. We made such good progress that we even stopped at a pub for a pre-lunch drink.

  Just ahead of me I could see Geoff, who like Andy comes from the North East. With his shaven head and stubbly beard Geoff looks a bit like a pirate, but without an earring or a parrot. When I drew alongside we started chatting and he knew quite a few of the places where I used to ride when I lived in the North East in the late 1980s. Geoff told me about one place, Chopwell Wood south-west of Gateshead, which has become a mecca for mountain biking. When I worked there it was a mecca for vandalism and other anti-social behaviour. How times change. He also told me that he had ridden the Fred Whitton sportive, one of the toughest and hilliest in Britain. I might just stick close to Geoff when we get to the serious mountains, as he could be a good lead-out man for me.

  Today was the easiest day so far – by a long way. Almost a rest day. It seemed no time at all that my Garmin, which was working properly today, was beeping to tell me that the 77 miles was completed and our destination for the day was just ahead. A few in our little peloton had some mechanicals and a couple of pun
ctures but these were all taken in our stride.

  Our overnight accommodation today was a motel with attached pub-restaurant. One of the challenges of an extended tour is keeping on top of the domestics. Any chance to wash and dry kit on tour makes a huge difference. Luckily the chance for an impromptu laundry session presented itself today. I soon had my jerseys and bibshorts washed and hanging on the back of a couple of chairs, strategically placed in the car park outside my room to catch the full sun.

  Friday 21 August 2015, 82 Miles

  Stage 6: Dancing in the Pennines

  The briefing message from our ride leader Martyn concluded with the words, ‘Day Six is a tough day. Over six thousand feet of climbing.’ A few of the group had looked at the route profile and turned a whiter shade of pale. Sometimes anticipation and reality don’t quite match each other. But today they certainly did!

  The first fun part of the day came at a canal lock crossing where a passing bargee lowered the gates in a devious attempt at guillotining one of our peloton. And she nearly succeeded! Then we faced one of the steepest climbs so far (20 per cent) which, once we’d all got our breath back, prompted a certain amount of comment – mostly about Martyn’s choice of route. Once the climb was behind us we then had a steady roller-coaster ride with nothing too challenging.

  I rode with Michael for a while here. He is also from Suffolk, near Ipswich. Michael is a materials handling expert and works at the Port of Felixstowe alongside Nick. Never short of something to say, and fond of riding no-handed while taking photos, Michael’s sharp humour always provided us with a laugh. His cry of ‘Engage Granny’ at the start of any serious climb became a byline for the tour. He’s also calling me ‘Captain’. I can live with that!