Mille Alba - Irish on Tour

CramCycle

Taking a half time break from the match thought I'd throw up a bit about the future exploits of Audax Ireland, with a total number of 17 entries in a field of 100, the irish are going on tour.

Mille Alba

Just recieved the e-mail with our route sheets, we are heading over by ferries, trains and automobiles.

To give an idea of what the weekend entails, it will be this, but on a bike and climbing instead of descending.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09eFI2nATzY

Stolen from YACF

Quite a few from these parts heading over as well.

CramCycle

Just got the GPS routes for it, I'll be using a route sheet as I have had problems with directions coming too late before on my Edge 500 but it looks like a nice round 12,500m of climbing.

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/821123
http://ridewithgps.com/routes/821143
http://ridewithgps.com/routes/821158
http://ridewithgps.com/routes/821163

Ferry on Thursday and the Train for about 6 hours, another fun holiday. Looks like 60% chance of rain all weekend but at a balmy 10 to 15 degrees over the trip.

Changing back over to my dynamo hub on Tuesday night to check for kinks, minor issues with my cassette which looks like its out of shape, will investigate further on Tuesday night as well. Putting on new brake callipers as well. Hopefully it will be ready to go come Thursday morning

cdaly_

Go on ya good thing!

Hope you have fun...

LastGasp

Well, that was the toughest thing I’ve ever done on a bike, no doubt. I’m not sure why (maybe it was the comment on YACF a few weeks ago that Scottish roads go around the mountains instead of over them), but I wasn’t expecting so much climbing at all. My usual problem struck on Thursday night with very little sleep to be had prior to the event. Headed off at 7 on Friday, and had an OK day, stayed with Dromcarrig and Kurt until 80kms, but that was a mistake as they were too fast for me, so I dropped off the pace and did my own thing for most of the day (and night) finally made it back to Fordell around 1am. My Garmin had worked OK until 132kms, when the pink line vanished, I think I hadn’t given enough time for the files to download properly. In addition, I had forgotten to bring the mains charger, and was relying on a 2 AA Energiser thingy which didn’t seem to be doing its stuff very well, only giving around 1/3 of a charge on 2 AA’s. Hit the bed for 3 hours but could get no sleep with the bed creaking like mad every time vigorelli down below turned over, which seemed like every 5 minutes. My toes, feet, and down the side of my shin bones were threatening to cramp up any second, and I just kept tossing and turning. Saturday we headed off again around 7am, thinking- shorter day, should get back to bed a bit earlier, maybe 11pm or so and get some sleep. The climbing and the headwinds put paid to that idea, the Garmin had no track at all for that day, and I trailed around behind Rottenhat feeling sorry for myself, and got a bad dose of the noddies over a never-ending rolling bog road, until we finally made it back to Fordell around 3am. Got some grub, and hit the sack for 3 hours badly needed sleep. I headed off on my own around 7.30 as Rottenhat wasn’t planning on leaving until 8am. The Garmin was still stuffed, so I relied on the route sheet, and my watch to give me a rough idea of when to look out for turns. This was a bit slow, but worked OK, as I somehow managed not to get lost for most of the day. I leapfrogged Rottenhat and a few others in and out of controls for the morning, until he finally caught me on the long drag after Comrie, and we stayed together for the rest of the day. Again the last stretch seemed to me to go on forever, especially crossing the ridges as we got back close to Inverkeithing. It was another tough day in the saddle, finally getting back again at 1am. Rottenhat was keen to wrap things up, and planned to head off with Aidan on his trike around 1.30am. I needed a rest, and lay down with the phone alarm set for 4am. Yet again I couldn’t sleep, and I decided I might as well be out riding the bike, so I got up early and headed off again for the last stint at 4.15am. I apologise profusely to everyone still in the room, as I left the phone under my pillow with the 4am alarm set, hopefully someone switched it off before it woke everyone up ! It was dawn as I left, and a lovely bright sunny morning. The climb wasn’t as bad as I had been led to believe, and I kept thinking there must still be a hard part coming up. Trying to get an ATM receipt at Falkland it took my befuddled brain a few attempts to realise that you have to request “cash and receipt” at the beginning, unlike waiting until the end when the Irish machines ask if you want a receipt. I headed off again along the the next stretch of lumpy cycle route which felt like hard, slow work for some reason. I was a bit worried about time, as I had it in my head that this leg was 75kms, and I was watching my average speed slipping down slowly. Around Kinross one of the earlier finishers came out to offer encouragement, and shouted there was only an hour to go after the next junction. As it was only 7am at this stage I was happy that I had plenty of time, and relaxed and rolled along for the last bit, until finally rolling into Fordell around 8.15am.
A huge Thank You on behalf of all the Irish riders to organiser Graeme, and all the superb helpers who really went out of their way to look after the riders. In particular the crew at Fordell seemed to be on the go non-stop 24 hours a day, yet always seemed to be in excellent form, and always ready with a pleasant word of encouragement.
Highlights include some a lot of great tough climbs, some fantastic descents, beautiful scenery, excellent company, the Onion, Leek and Cider soup at Bridge of Balgie, Tomato and Rice soup at Fordell, delicious Bridies (steak pies), and the team of willing mechanics at St. Davids, and Graeme being very understanding with some plonker who decided to leave his Brevet Card back at Fordell on Day 2 !
1017kms, 12800m climbing, one sore foot, one sore ankle, one sore knee, two sore cheeks, and a windburned nose – could be worse. Well done to everyone who finished, and commiserations to those who had to pull out for whatever reasons.

vigorelli

The journey over can roughly be summarised as driving into the rain, with the frequent radio forecasts predicting weather conditions bad enough to warrant flood warnings and wind warnings. The rain pelted the roof and windows of the chalet all night, and the best the most optimistic of us could hope for was that the worst would somehow pass over during the night.



Sixty nine riders set off from Fordell in the rain at 7am, through some grey villages on busy roads. There were plenty of jersey's from previous Grand Randonnees to intimidate the 1000km virgins like myself. An oncoming car drove into a large pool of water to give me a thorough soaking. Maybe, I thought, it was better to get wet quickly than slowly, raindrop by raindrop.



After only a few km, we passed Eoghan fixing a puncture by the roadside, and soon afterwards saw Niall also stopped to give assistance to Paul O'D who discovered his pump was faulty. I hoped there wasnt going to be some puncture curse on the Irish.

After the first checkpoint at 36km the roads became quieter and more undulating as we followed the south bank of the Tay. Not that we could see much of the river with very low visibility. When it wasn't raining, there were heavy mists, and occasional dry periods, which seemed to indicate that the worst of the weather might actually have passed over. The condition of the road showed how bad the previous rain had been. There was lots of stones and gravel on the roads, causing us to dismount on more than one occasion. Several flood waters required caution so as not to let water enter my dynohub. Every stream and river was full to overflow point with brown, silty water.



Crossing the Tay bridge on the cycle path between the car lanes was a novel experience. At the other side, after waiting our turn to take the small lift down to ground level, the ambiguity of the route sheet was overcome by following riders who seemed to know where they were going.

Each day-long loop had just one manned control. The first, at Forfar (101km) was a delight. Cheerfully manned, supplying piping hot chunky vegetable soup and baked potatoes with beans, along with enough fruit and bars to feed an army. It was nicely placed about 30km before the first big climb of the day, Cairn O'Mount.



This was suppsedly the toughest climb of the whole route, not for its height but its steepness. Some riders walked sections, being passed by riders, some on fixies, zig-zagging up the long gradient, 20% in places. The reward at the top was a bucket of jellies. I grabbed a fistful and rolled over the summit, descending at over 80km/h.



My strategy of "ride steadily, keep the stops to a minimum" was rewarded when I passed a large group in Banchory (165km), as I pressed on tracing the river Dee past the Royal palace at Balmoral and on to Braemar (231km).






The Hungry Highlander cafe fed the masses, but after a short stop in a shop, I got going, riding with Niall for a while, then alone, up the highest road in Scotland past the ski lifts and over to a lovely, almost 90km/h descent.






The next few hours were lovely with a tailwind, late sunset and mostly dry weather. Eoghan, John O'S and I rode together into the darkness after the control in Perth (310km). Eoghan and I got lost twice but got quickly back on track, and only gained a few kilometres in the process.





The rain came bucketing down again for the last hour and caused a short between the external battery and my garmin, and it reset itself just as I entered the driveway of our HQ at Fordell (356km) at 1:20am. I ordered an omelette and soup from one of the army of volunteer helpers, resisted the temptation of a beer and went to bed.

Saturday

After three hours sleep, I was on the road again. Leaving about half an hour behind Niall and Eoghan, and half an hour ahead of John T and Paul H. Crossing the Forth suspension bridge was quite an experience, as I leaned heavily into the severe gusty crosswind to avoid getting slammed into the railing protecting me from the river 46 metres below.



Navigating around the Edinburgh suburbs was tricky, costing time, but soon I was treated to a lovely, unexpectedly long ride along the seafront.

Soon it was time to head for the hills again. My legs never felt great and I seemed to derive no speed benefit from the strong cross tailwind. But then what wind is going to blow 100kg of bike, gear and rider up an 18% hill? After a few short, sharp ascents and identical descents, the first big climb of the day wasn't too taxing and I pressed on towards England and the first control of the day in Berwick upon Tweed (468km).



I took an extended stop for a panini, first coffee of the day, some cake and WD-40 and turned west into the headwind. My long stop made me feel much better, and riding for hours into the headwind through exposed, rolling farmland didn't affect my spirits much, though it made progress slow.

I rode for quite some time with Gary from London and Liisa from Finland, he an ancien of Paris Brest Paris, she had never ridden more than 175km before, and who went on to finish the event, almost making it look easy.

The only manned control of the day at Galashiels (532km) was warm and well stocked, and the helpers insisted that I sit down and they would take care of everything I needed. Which turned out to be tea, pizza, peaches and creamed rice and coke. There were six of us at the control together, while we heard the controllers do an inventory - there were four more riders yet to come through - including John T, Paul H and Marc K. It was good to hear they were still going well. I washed the salt from my face, applied a fistful of Sudocreme, and moved out at about 8pm.

After Galashiels, there was some magnificent riding along narrow lanes, weaving through the forests on the banks of the river Tweed before climbing to ride alongside St Mary's Loch. I thought that this could be anywhere in Kerry or Donegal, execpt it was vastly bigger here. And as if to emphasise the scale of things in Scotland, after every valley or lake seemed to arrive another, mirror image or carbon copy.

Darkness descended slowly. I stopped to open a can of coke and became acquainted with the region’s most famous resident, the midge. That got me back in the saddle fairly quickly. Four of us leapfrogged each other from time to time as we layered up for the night, with friendly hellos and calls of "Everything ok?".

As I climbed from the Loch towards a reservoir, along narrow broken paths, with very infrequent house lights punctuating the darkness, I imagined a kindly Scottish lady inviting me in for a whisky, a hot bath and a bed for the night. The inn at a crossroads somewhere was thankfully closed, I might not have had the will to pass the door were it open.

The beam from my headlight showed midges battling for supremacy with flurries of mist. I watched Gary and Liisa's distant taillights weave onward and depressingly upward. Six dogs appeared out of nowhere and, probably as startled as I was, barked loudly and chased me. I summoned the energy to sprint. A faint voice from the abyss called them to heel and all but one obeyed, but the novelty of chasing me soon wore off and I was alone again.

The mist gave way to heavy rain making treacherous the 20% descent towards another reservoir, on a narrow, weaving, pothole ridden, sheep lined path. I urged the startled sheep to be decisive and not change direction suddenly.

In Broughton (608km) a rider had stopped to nurse his swollen Achilles, the only sign of life there. The rain was quite heavy by the time I got to the control town of Biggar (616km). With everything closed, I got a receipt from an ATM to prove that I had been there, and pressed onwards. The only signs of life were a couple of taxis ferrying late night revellers to some distant town or house party.

The section towards and around the Pentland Hills were particularly difficult. Dawn was nearing, I was cold and wet and suffering from indigestion, unable to take in many calories. On a few occasions I walked for a while. I noticed a text of encouragement from home, which got me pedalling briefly, before walking again. On the descents I suffered from the noddies for the first time ever, so I stopped and propped myself up against the bike, rested my head on the saddle and slept. It may have been for seconds or a whole hour, but when I woke I walked again.

I heard voices approaching from behind, and was soon joined by John T and Paul H, who gave me some spare layers to keep me warm, and buoyed by some human contact again I started riding on towards and around Edinburgh. These kilometres seemed to take forever, but in growing daylight and with some company they were bearable. After crossing the Forth bridge back towards base, we stopped at a garage for a coffee to warm us up. John's knee was swollen badly and he was in some major pain, even after taking painkillers.

As we approached Fordell (680km) we met Paul O'D, Kevin and Kurt, looking fresh and shouting encouragement as they set out on leg 3 after a good night's sleep. As John got medical advice on his knee, I ate, showered and slept for an hour in fresh cycling gear. Being already dressed would be one less barrier to getting back on the bike again.

Sunday

I woke, with Paul's help, in a state of confusion. We were back on the bikes shortly after 9, John had little choice but to abandon with severe pain in his knee and a bad dose of midge bits. We worked our way towards Alloa on some nice paths and back roads, in spite of an ambiguous route sheet. I realised I had forgotten my money, cards, as well as garmin, charger and more clothes. I berated myself for being so badly organised, albeit not helped by sleep deprivation. Paul gave me some money, and we stopped for breakfast and coffee at a service station, sitting on the footpath in the shelter of the wind.

We were hovering around the time limit and would need to make up some time to use as a buffer later. After some steady progress in pleasant conditions, we reached Comrie (762km) at 3pm, twenty minutes before the time limit. We met Gary and Liisa rolling out, who told us that John O'S had left 15 minutes previously.

The baked potato and toasted sandwich at the cafe should have revived my weary legs for a while but it seemed to have little effect. Soon my face was burning up, my body cold and weak. I had been trying to keep a cold at bay since before I arrived and now I felt it was taking hold.

I stopped and sat at the road side beside Loch Earn for a brief respite, before getting back on again. I was holding Paul back and I told him to go on, but he refused. After Lochearnhead, on the climb I felt dangerously weak, I feared wobbling out in front of the many passing cars on the busy road. I insisted that Paul go on, I sat by the roadside and faced the reality that I was probably out of time. I had 788km done, and thought it would be great to get to 800km. At the top of the climb, a cold mist reminded me of my precarious health and clothes situation, and I didn't know what was down in the next valley. I now didn't feel safe going on, and turned back to Lochearnhead.

I sat again, this time on the grass in the shelter of the church on the road to Stirling and examined my options, which were limited by my limited cash and almost dead phone battery. Graeme the organiser texted me, telling me to cycle on the bike path to Callander, then onward to Dunblane to get a train to Inverkeithing via Edinburgh. More cycling?! I would need a rest and some food, so I got dinner in a little pub and hit the road again at about 7.30pm. The off-road bike path to Callander was one of the highlights of the whole trip, and reminded me that although I hadn't reached the magic 1000, I had one fantastic, unforgettable experience.

I blasted along the trail, with little regard for my tyres, through the Strathrye Forest alongside Loch Lubnaig, on to Callander, then by road to Doune and Dunblane, to discover I had missed the last train which had left at 10pm. Damned Sunday train schedules.

I continued to Bridge of Allan outside Stirling and used a phone box to arrange for John T to drive and pick me up. It was very cold outside and I was shivering so I stayed in the phone box, crouched down and hoped that I wouldn't be there for too long, and that noone needed to make a late evening phone call. John arrived at 12.30 and I turned the heat up in the car and looked forward to getting to bed.

The final total was 866km, more than double I had ever done before so, although disappointed not to complete the full distance, I was more than happy with the experience, and I felt I had earned the "participant’s medal".

At breakfast on Monday, I had the pleasure of seeing Niall, John O'S and Paul H finish with at least an hour to spare. Well done to all the others who took part, the 49 finishers, and especially the first time finishers. I for one will call that an epic.

cnz8euq6x7syj2

Truly epic read and ride no doubt.

Hats off to each and everyone of you.

Makes hell look like Butlins!