2017 Manx Grand Prix, cycling again!

So last year I'd taken my bike across to the Island for the Manx Grand prix. It had been great and my friends Rick and Judy were off again this year and suggested I came along. I was slated to do the YD200 on the first weekend of Manx week but I figured I would be done with this on the Saturday evening, could recover on the Sunday and then sail across on the Monday evening.

As with last year the ferry ticket was a mere £50 and the bike free. I was on the late night sailing so had a lazy day Monday before cruising down to Heysham, abandoning the car on a suitable side street (scoped out on streetview to be away from the front of someone's house but on a street with plenty of other cars parked.) Also as per last year I got onto the boat first and was soon sipping a pint of Okells bitter prior to the boat sailing. At the other end I again got off the boat with zero hassle, although the cafe was busy so I cracked onto Peel via the old railway line. 

Once again there was plenty of space in the campsite where people only doing the bank holiday weekend had left. This was the first try of my newly acquired Six Moons Designs Deschutes tarp tent. I've been thinking of getting something like this for a while as although my trusty Vango Helium 100 has served me well, it is a bit like sleeping in a nylon coffin. The Deschutes is far roomier, the all mesh inner giving a sense of much more space, and best of all it was 200gs lighter and took up a fraction of the space. Up it went and in I got for a few hours sleep.

It was sunny when I woke so jumped on the Jones and headed out along various trails in the low hills behind the coast, riding back on the beach.

The sky was darkening as I got back and by the time I was showered, the rain had started. I got in sharpish and actually snoozed for a while before realising I needed to go to the supermarket for food. By this time the wind was blowing a gale and the rain that dense horizontal dreich that can be very unpleasant. Once again I was camped in the Isle of Man in extreme weather! So a good test of the Deschutes, in any case. I got back from the shop and discovered the first benefit of this tent - plenty of space to get under cover and out of water proofs before getting into inner. On my Vango, you had to try to get out of your water proofs and into the tent at the same time. This never worked and water always came with you making it impossible to stay dry. As I cooked tea I became aware of a single drip from the peak of the tent landing on the mesh inner. It was fairly slow and just ran down the mesh so hopefully not an issue. Its not taped, being silnylon and although I'd seam sealed it, this stress point was obviously leaking a wee bit. After tea I was at a loss as I'd hoped to wander down to the Creek Inn but the rain made this a bit of a mission. Instead I headed for the other pub we used to use - the White House which is just down from the campsite. I wandered in and spied a few guys I'd gotten to know from previous visits so sat and had a good chin wag and several good ales. I got a bit of flak for my pedal powered arrival but on describing the boarding process (and the fare) they were all impressed. Like me they like their motorbikes and are die hards of the Island but also don't care for the bullshit that has built up around motorcycling in recent years so are quite open to people doing it a different way. They left soon after but I hung on, on the strength of the weather forecast which indicated the rain would stop at 9. When I rolled out at 10 it was indeed dry, with stars appearing. I wandered up to the site and was pleased that my new shelter had survived 6 hours of rain and wind with nothing but a few drips.

The next morning dawned sunny so I opened up everything to air and dry out. Then off on the bike to meet up with Rick and Judy at one of the Vintage Club meets. The Jones truss fork drew a few comments, with many mistaking it for a girder fork, but of course it ain't as it's rigid! The dude playing drums for the Jazz outfit that follows the vintage club do's around the place was a single speeder so we chatted for a bit. He noted that SSUK was on at Carnforth, just up the road from Heysham. Curses, if I'd known that I'd have gone!

I only had three days but as with last year, this enabled some good bike riding, a bit of race watching and plenty of socialising and beer drinking. The journey home was a mirror image of last year as Rick and Judy were again on the same boat. I was planning on spending a few more days in the Caravan as Mum and Dad were due to arrive so cruised back there from Heysham (car still in tact) and then spent a day doing a good circuit round some oft ridden trails. 

I didn't know it at the time, but this would be my last stay in the caravan. A month later, the new site owners wrote to Mum and Dad stating they would have to pay £3000 rent for next year (as opposed to £800 for this) and buy a new van for the following year (£30k plus.) We had much heartfelt discussion but the money was just to much to justify, particularly as Mum and Dad were starting to struggle with the old vans lack of heating and felt £30k for a new one was about £30k more than they could afford! So that was that - the end of an era that took me back to 13 years old when I used to pedal from home to Hawes on a Friday evening after school to meet up with Mum and Dad who would drive down later for a weekend stay. Plus many, many good trips over many years with many good friends. Looking back, the 'caravan years' were some of the happiest of my life. Hawes remains a place I have a great affection for so hopefully I'll still be able to visit.

The Yorkshire Dales 200, 2017

As I sat in the sun in West Burton, N.Yorks, I contemplated the full folly of my current undertaking. My legs hurt, I was feeling like a 4 hour siesta and I wasn't even halfway round this forbidding route.....

Back in June it seemed like a good idea - 200k of road and track around one of my favourite places in the world - the Yorkshire Dales, home of countless wonderful villages, excellent pubs, cheese, homebaking, dry stone walls and sheep. And hills. Lots of hills. In fact more hills than you can shake a dead rat at, even if you live in Wales. I'd entered on the strength of the 2016 route - lots of nice trails, plenty of hills but a climbing total of around 3300m seemed like a recipe for a hard but generally fun ride. Except route setter and ride organiser Stuart Rider changes the route every year. This year was "Gravel Friendly" i.e nothing too rough but plenty of hills. I noted with moderate concern that the climbing total had jumped to over 4500m but it was mostly on road so nae bother right? A quote from Road Race veteran and all round good guy Jens Voight sprung to mind:- "Why oh Why am I doing this" (After a lone breakaway on stage 1 of the 2014 TdF in this same fine part of the world)

Oh well, it can't be that bad, I mean I'd done the Highland Trail and one day of the Borders 350 this year so I'll be fine aye? errr....

Friday evening before the start saw me take a leisurely drive from fair Fife to my parents static caravan in Hawes. 5.30 am Saturday saw me up and eating in preparation for a long day. There were around 15 or so folk at Riders Cycle Centre in Skipton and I made full use of the laid on breakfast. Several people commented on the general size (and weight) of my chosen bolide - yes the Jones plus had been dragged out again and seemed somewhat out of place lined up against so many svelt gravel racers. Bob Wightman who I'd rode with on various parts of the HT was there on a more conventional 29er and the benefit of much local knowledge. My machine choice was circumstance. I was off to the Isle of Man for a few days and was looking for mountainbiking so the Fargo, which I had originally planned to use for this, had once again missed out. The jones would be a bit of a drag on the road but would at least enable brakes off / brain out on the various double track descents the route presented without fear of punctures or smashed teeth. My pace would be steady but I was confident enough in my abilities to have brought only kit for a day and nothing to tempt me into sleeping....

8am saw us all rolling out steadily. A group dissapeared up front and I was happy to see them go. I fell in with Bob and a couple of others on big tyred machines. One chap was on a single speed 29+'ed Mukluk which smacked of either extreme heroism or extreme optimism. My Krampus is single speeded permanently these days but I've had one experience of riding it in the Dales and I'm too much of a wimp to ever contemplate such folly again.

Inevitably on the first climb my stupid, hated and useless competitive gene reared its ugly ahead and saw me pushing hard leaving the sociable group behind and leaving me in the company of no-one but the bike. This was to continue until Skipton.... Having said that I felt strong, much stronger than I had a right to be given my somewhat casual prep for this monster of a route. This carried on up the next climb, and the next, and the next and the.........

The thing with the Dales is that there is no end to the climbs. Even the descents go uphill. The second off road descent saw me passing two of the gravel bike crew fixing punctures. Hmmm - it was loose and rocky and I was flat out with only minimal mental input required. Maybe I was on the right bike after all?

Thereafter was a long section of road riding which on (OS) paper looked easy. In reality it was a continuous serious of climbs and descents. 29+ and slack geometry is just the job for 1:4 gravel strewn country road descents it would seem. I let a group of motorcyclists past just before once such plummet and ended up being held up by them. On the plus the side the weather was stunning. There had been a brief shower earlier but now it was blue sky and a strong sun. I was baking and drinking rapidly. East Witton had a tap on the village green but it was jammed shut. Salvation came in the form a local roadie just finishing her mornings ride offering to fill my water bottle up. It was empty again within an hour.... 

As I progressed along this section my legs started to complain. The wind was 'fresh' and now right in my face. Cooling but hard going on exposed sections. Hells bells. Once again I'd gone far too fast and now I was paying the price. Scratching was absolutely not an option so I would just have to suffer.

The next trail was about the only easy bit on the whole route - a steady traverse around the lower slopes of Penhill with great views up Wensleydale and over the 'Tank Road' to Richmond. This road is part of the vast Cattrick MOD training area and often sees huge metal tracked monsters getting driven along them. The Jones would be right at home then!

The descent to West Burton was rough and loose and again I was glad of the big tyres. Hmm. On the Fargo this would have been a case of brakes on and take it steady. Not a great compensation for all the hard work to get to!

Pies, Crisps, juice and cake all eaten in the sun on the village green made a new man out of me. I rode out feeling full but much more confident about the next monster climb. As I left Stuart Rider was coming the other way. OK. Guess he'll soon pass me but where were the rest. Climbing the (inevitably) ridiculously steep track out Thoralby revealed only two sets of fresh tyre tracks in front. This is an old favourite of mine, albeit downhill. Its changed now though and much of it was huge rocks which made for hard work, especially with the now strong wind right in my face. Eventually the top was reached and I was feeling much stronger than an hour previously. The descent was another blast and the wee road down from Cray to Hubberholme was taken at a suitably innappropriate speed. Next up was an absolute stinker of a climb to Horse Head moor. I've been down this many times so I knew what to expect i.e a push. However this seemed to be just the ticket as my aching limbs were glad of a change of muscle use and the top came after not too much effort.


The descent was rough. I was still following one gravel tyre and one mountainbike tyre but the gravel tyre print was shallow. i.e. the bike was being pushed..... Gravel Bike friendly? hmmm.....

A brief respite of flatish road along Littondale gave a fine view of the next climb - a super steep and loose track up out of the dale and alongside the flanks of Pennyghent - much loved by cyclocrossers! The afternoon was wearing on but I was starting to feel increasingly confident of my ability to do this thing. 

The track over to Helwith Bridge seemed to be indicating I was now only following one bike and noone had caught me up despite my lowered pace.... There followed some more pleasant riding on various lanes and trails that I remembered from last years YD300. 

First use of lights was required in a couple of tunnels going into Clapham. As I entered first person on the trail was just leaving. A brief fizzle of competitiveness nearly made me give chase but I had other priorities - namely the public loo and a cafe that was closing but supplied a glorious cup of tea, juice and crisps. 





Next up was a lengthy road climb. Not exactly plus tyre territory but my limbs seemed happy to propell me steadily up it with not much effort. Bombing through Gisburn Forest was a hoot and I started to grin to myself as this was all coming together. Of course there was still two enormous climbs on the cards but I was getting that feeling of unstoppability which always seems to strike at around 6pm. True to the map out of Long Preston was steep but this was old news now. The trail above it was plastered with signs indicating some kind of event was about to take place - "Caution - Technical Descent", "Slow, Sharp Corner", " Feed station" etc. were all totally ignored. In Settle I once again felt the need to feed.

Thank god for the Co-Op. This establishment really is the bike packers best friend. A Whole range of food and drink and opening hours ideally suited to the sleep avoiders. I felt I had enough solid food on board so drank several hundred calories and got stuck into the last (and worst) major climb of the route. Actually its not that bad and the worst of it is tarmac. Once you hit the gravel it eases off after a bit and puts you into a really quite amazing piece of landscape. The Limestone bones of the earth are much in evidence around here and the terrain is quite unique. Not quite the scale of the Highlands or the drama of the Lakes but still as fine a piece of geography as you will find on these sceptic isles. The last section of trail is seriously nice - a smooth dust path across the moor with only a token bit of climbing and a fine decent to the road above Malham.

Dusk was falling as I screamed down the tarmac descent into Malham. This is a beaut and often covered in glaikit walkers heading up to the famous cove but this evening it was desterted. I bombed through Malham itself at high speed with a huge grin on my face as I knew I'd cracked this. The Malham show had been on but most folk were away apart from a few diehards in the beer tent. I was mightly tempted but pushed on knowing that the end was in sight.

Of course there were still plenty of ups and downs to do but nothing compared to what had gone before. The last road section had more traffic than I was expecting and I got paranoid about my back light failing as if it did I'd be stuffed. Fifth car to pass was the polis but they carried on without stopping me so I must have been visible. Skipton was reached at last and I bombed through the town centre eyeing up all the folk in the glad rags on a night out. I'm as keen as anyone to have a few beers of a saturday night but this evening I was on a massive buzz from having ridden 200k and still be in good shape. I reached Riders Cycle Centre at about 9.20pm, 13hours 20minutes after I'd left. First Rider back Danny had only been back 15 minutes or so and I was well happy to be the second person home. Stuart Rider himself appeared just before 10 and we chatted about the route and our experiences until I felt the tiredness come on at half past and so left to drive back to my bed for the night.

I've done a fair bit of bike riding this year but this is the stand out hardest day I've done.