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| The Crowd Was Going Wild For Me |
In 2014 Yorkshire hosted the Grand Depart of the Tour De France. You may have heard about it. By all accounts it went pretty well.
Over the May Day bank holiday once again the streets would be lined with crowds 2, 3 and 4 deep to see the creme de la creme of cyclists going by. Just imagine the conversation in the expectant crowd
" Wheers that t' cyclist Alan Clufff ? Theeare's nubdy better at pedlin t' bike than 'im ! "
What ? They weren't all going to be there to see me ? Bradley who ?
Whilst the main attraction was going to be the professional peloton in the inaugural Tour De Yorkshire, my attention was going to be on the sportive event held on Sunday May the 3rd.
THE ROUTE
There were two courses the amateurs could choose from. The medium at 68 miles and the long at 88 miles.
Back in February when I had registered for the 68 mile sportive I was seeing this merely as a convenient milestone on the way to my 100 mile ride target. I didn't even check out the course.
Annette would be doing the 30 mile "cycletta" womens only event. It would be a nice day out for the both of us. No problemo.
However, as the event began to loom larger on the horizon I actually looked at the course in detail and guess what ? Problemo !
There was about 6500 feet of climbing with many super steep sections.
Just to add a little spice to the event, as the amateurs had to be off the course by the time the pros came through, there was going to be a broom wagon in operation. If you were not making satisfactory progress you would be swept off the road and transported, along with your bike, to the finish.
Surely there could be no more ignominious end to a day's cycling than this ? Presumably those transported in the broom wagon would be put in the stocks and pelted with rotten fruit. If you were from Lancashire like me they would probably replace the rotten fruit with stones.
There was a cut off time to reach the final feed station at the 44 mile mark. If you didn't get there by 1.25 pm you would be invited cordially into the broom wagon.
" Dus tha want a lift lad ?!" An offer that could not be refused.
It would only need a delay for a puncture or a mechanical to put your typical 51 year old mediocre cyclist under a lot of pressure to avoid the stocks and that rotten fruit ........or worse.
THE START LINE
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| Let's Cycle 68 miles ! |
We arrived at the event parking at about 8.45 am. The weather was simply the worst. It was cold and it had been raining hard for hours. It wasn't forecast to stop raining until about midday. Nightmare.
The car park resembled The Somme.
By the time I was ready to pedal it was gone 9 am, I had arranged to meet June from the club and Suzanne and Caroline to go round with them.
Things were somewhat chaotic and to cut a long story short I left them there somewhere on The Somme.
It ended happily though as they met up and went round together and faster than me anyway.
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| The Start - 68 Miles To Go ( And A Few Hills ) |
I would be going around solo tagging along with any group or wheel that would put up with me.
Up until the first feed station that would be my good friends 2600 and 5032.
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| 2600 and 5032 On The Way To Arthington. Mind The Water ! |
They seemed to be going a reasonable speed and they were chatting to each other so much that I doubt they even noticed me.
The first section of the ride was fairly civilised. Leaving Roundhay we headed for Arthington and then Poole In Wharfdale. The most difficult part of this stretch was dodging the small inland seas that had developed on the roads.
Just before Arthington was a steep descent called Black Hill Road that would be my Waterloo on the way back.
At the 11 mile marker coming out of Poole In Wharfdale was the beginning of the first serious climb up the A658. About a mile and a half hitting 9 % in places for the first section. Then just when you thought you were at the top it kept on going up, rising up for another 2 and a half miles.
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| Climb Out of Poole In Wharfdale - Game On ! |
All told about 4 miles of a climb topping out on the moor before dropping down into Menston.
Welcome to the party pal. The ride had really started now.
THE HILLS KEEP ON COMING
Menston was the start of the next climb. About 5 miles that would stretch nearly to East Morton following Bingley Road and then Otley road. The profile was familiar. A steep first section over 10 % in places followed by the agonising grind to the top at a lower gradient.
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| On The Way Down To Bingley |
The top of this climb was the 21 mile mark. Well into the campaign now. Then a fast descent through East Morton and Sandbeds and the valley of the River Aire to Bingley.
After Bingley the road then headed skyward again. This was the start of another 5 miles of climbing that would take the ride to Harden and Cullingworth.
There was a particularly nasty bit just outside of Bingley ( about 15 % according to Strava ) where a lone couple had positioned themselves to spectate.
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| We Have Come To See Pain And Suffering |
"You seem to have positioned yourselves at the point where you will see the most pain" I said.
" Weer not daft lad ! " came the reply.
This was my first bit of interaction with the crowd. OK I know there was only two of them.
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| Squeezing Through The Traffic In Harden |
The climbing continued through Harden and to Cullingworth where I pulled into the first feeding station at the 28 mile marker.
CULLINGWORTH - FIRST FEED STATION
The only reason I stopped at the first feed station was that I wanted to go to the loo. I had plenty of food and drink left to get me to the final feed station.
Going to the loo was not a pleasant experience.Let's just leave it at that.
The place resembled a refugee camp for cyclists.People desperate for something to eat or drink or to get mechanical assistance or to avail themselves of the facilities.
The food was ...basic. Plates of boiled potatoes and plain biscuits.
It was like industrial scale factory farming.
I got myself out of there before I developed mad cow disease.
I only had a couple of swigs of I don't know what and the dryest biscuit I have ever tasted.
In hindsight a mistake.
This was also the last time I saw 2600 and 5302.
I had spent 2 hours looking at their arses and wondering if I should introduce myself. A bit like a potted history of my love life.
Our paths would not cross again after this. Also a bit like my love life.
Farewell and thank you.
THE COBBLES AT HAWORTH & CARNAGE AT THE GOOSE EYE
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| Mega Steep Turn Into Haworth |
The final turn down into the bottom of Haworth was like being on a roller coaster. Should I shut my eyes and hold on ?
Once at the bottom we were heading for the cobbles.
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| Come On If You Think You're Hard Enough ! |
It seemed more.
To me the road was laying down a challenge.
"You want to get to the cobbles ? You've got to get past me ! ".
I stuck it in the bottom gear and did just that.
What else was I going to do? I was 30 miles from the car !
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| They Put The Bunting Out For Me In Haworth |
At last my Specialised Roubaix Sport had seen some action on cobbles.
I was no longer a fraud. Not for this anyway.
At the top of the cobbles the ride was back on good old tarmacadam and it immediately plunged down another steep descent.
Mentally the downhill sections gave you no comfort because you knew the more you went down the more you would have to come up.
Sure enough the next one didn't disappoint.
Cure Hill up to Oakworth was three quarters of a mile at 9 %.
What irritated me slightly was that all the hills I had been up so far had not even been categorised or highlighted on the route profile. They were officially of no consequence. Just little pimples, nothing to be concerned about. I had not yet been up any of the 3 categorised climbs. That was messing with my head.
The Goose Eye was now approaching and this was not only going to mess with some of the riders heads it was going to try and bash them in as well.
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| The Upper Slopes Of The Goose Eye |
Cote De Goose Eye is a little bit less than a mile and a half in length with an average gradient of 7 % and a maximum of 25 %.
Fearsome indeed.
The 25 % bit came right at the bottom in Laycock shortly after a tight left hand turn.
When I took this left hand turn I was confronted with a log jam of cyclists. The log jam was being caused by a patch of oil on the road and ride stewards putting down sand to absorb it. They tried to direct people to either side of the hazard.
The combination of restricted space, the massive gradient and already tired riders meant only one thing. Riders started to go down and that made it even worse. Literally a domino effect.
I saw a gap and I went for it. I had to force myself to stop grabbing onto the handlebars as when I did this and pushed down on the pedals the front wheel started to come off the ground. That's how steep it was.
Luckily I got through and quickly forgot about this distinctly scary event by adopting the first rule of Italian driving. What's behind me is not important
Oh yes and I also had the remainder of the climb to do. This was made a little bit easier by a gentleman at the top who was shouting encouragement.
" C'mon, you are nearly at the top ! Keep going ! You can do it ! "
This chap had the loudest voice I think I have ever heard. I could hear him from half way down the climb and my hearing is pants.When I got to the top I thanked him for his support.
Getting to the top of the Goose Eye was no time to relax and let your guard down however.
Over the top was an extremely steep descent into Sutton-On-Craven. The road was slippy and dangerous.Some came a cropper in a bad way on this descent and the ambulance service was scraping them off the road.
Maybe the broom wagon wasn't the worst way to finish this sportive after all.
Better finishing in the broom wagon than on a spinal board.
Whilst the hospitals must have seen their fair share of cyclists that day as far as I know no one was really seriously injured.
MORE HILLS & THE FINAL FEED STATION
After the carnage of the Goose Eye it was nice to just get back on a hill and suffer quietly and safely.
The hill leaving Silsden and running for 1.3 miles at an average gradient of 6 % was just that hill.
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| Thank You Sir Thank You Madam |
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| Climb Out Of Silsden |
It was over 40 miles into the ride now and the final feed station was at 44 miles.
I had to be through that feed station by 1.25 pm to avoid the broom wagon.
I felt I was going to make it but it was going to be close.
I was beginning to think the cut off time they had set of 1.25 pm was flannel. A ruse to just hurry people up.
I had kept going, done a reasonable pace, not stopped or walked and I was only just going to make this cut off time.
There must be hundreds still behind me. Were they all going to get transported to the finish ?
I rolled into the the final feed station and was just as unimpressed with this one as the first one.
Having refilled my water bottle from a bowser I took my leave going past a line of coaches parked up that must have been the broom wagons.
I got out of that feed station with 5 minutes to spare. It was 1.20 pm.
My urgency to get through that feed station before the cut off and not eat or drink properly was again, in hindsight, a mistake.
The consequences would arrive 15 miles down the road.
COTE DE COW & CALF AND THE WARNING SIGNS
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| People of Ilkley - I'm Over Here ! |
But where was the crowd? There were a few gaps on the railings to say the least..
No one seems to have told the public I was coming through.
Can you believe it ?!
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| Top Of Cow & Calf Climb |
Great names.
I thought it said "Cowpat" road at first opening the door to some comedy gold. But it didn't. It was just my dodgy eyesight.
I would be in the shit soon enough though.
The average gradient is 7.6 % with a maximum of 15 %.
The crowd was starting to build up now on the sides of the roads and the support was terrific. It was hard but I got up it OK . Only once I was past the pub did I realise that my camera was off. I switched it back on in time to get a picture of some parked cars. Plonker.
A few miles past the Cow & Calf I started to get some twinges in the legs. These were the all too familiar warning signs of cramp. I thought I had been eating and drinking enough but I was well over 50 miles in now and still had loads of food on me and plenty of drink.
I had been too focused on making progress and getting past that final feed station.
I pulled over straight away, hit the flapjacks and guzzled some drink down. I hoped it would work it's way into my system and avoid a full blown cramp attack which would render me unable to function and crying like a baby on the side of the road.
OK Alan just take it steady and whatever you do just make sure YOU DO NOT STAND UP ON THE PEDALS. In the past that had always been the thing that had pushed me over the edge into a cramp episode.
DEATH BY CRAMP
The final big climb was Cote De Chevin. Strava shows this as 1.4 miles long with an average gradient of 6 % and a maximum of 13 %.
I took it gingerly and steadily repeating to myself again and again
"Do not stand up on the pedals ! Do not stand up on the pedals !"
I took it so gingerly and steadily that I didn't even notice Cottingham Road Club member Niloy coming past me as he completed the long 89 mile route. Amazing ride well done.
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| Niloy Comes Past Me On Chevin |
I'll have a cigar and make it a big one !!
Er..no. Not quite. There was one hill left to go.
It was just as well my camera batteries were now flat and what was to follow was not recorded.
The last hill was one of those pimples on the profile that wasn't worth even mentioning.
Black Hill Road just after Arthington came at the 60 mile mark. 0.7 of a mile with an average of 9 %.
As I approached the bottom I could see it was an evil stinker of a hill and that many people were struggling and walking. I started up, I got anxious , I ignored my own advice.
I stood up on the pedals and pushed. The inevitable happened.
Holy Moly !! It was like being connected to a 240 volt electrical supply. Both legs just went into spasm and meltdown. The pain was excruciating. I had to unclip and stop. Shit.
I got to the side and out of the way. Just standing there both legs went into spasm again. Jesus Christ it hurt. I had a little cry. I am not a brave man.
There was no way I could pedal up this hill. I would have to walk. The shame of it. I got in the loser lane and started pushing the bike up the hill. As it turned out I only just manged to walk up the hill let alone ride up it.
On the plus side doing the walking got my legs functioning again enough to get back on the bike at the top. On the minus side after the walking I could hardly clip in properly for the rest of the ride.
Where did it all go wrong ?
THE FINISH AT LAST THE FINISH
The last 8 miles were unremarkable save for my repeated attempts to clip in properly. I just wanted to finish now. I was pretty fed up.
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| At The Finish - Inside I'm Crying |
At least someone let them know I was coming this time.
I felt a bit of a fraud. I had walked up the last hill because of that cramp attack.
I should be made to go round and do it all again.
On the whole I have got to be pleased with what I did though.
Walking up the last hill because I got cramp doesn't make me a bad person.
All the other hills, yes they were hard and it hurt but I felt I was always going to get up them. I would have got up the last one too but for the cramp.
What can I do to make myself feel better about it ?
Shall I go back one weekend and do the whole route again to prove to myself I can do it ?
No thanks. I think I can live with the disappointment.
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