cyclePosted by Jon Entwistle Fri, June 16, 2017 20:21:18
Just like the Strathpuffer
back in January, this wasn’t my idea. No way.
It all started a couple of
weeks ago. Unusually I had my girls on a Sunday which coincided with the
Scottish National 25m TT, so I took them along with me for a grand day out.
Some folk seemed concerned that would be a hindrance and a distraction. Nope. Quite
the contrary, they were pretty useful, making coffee for my GTR teammates Chris
and Lewis, offloading left over banana cake for the “after party” and also
keeping former Junior Scottish Road Race champion and RT23 rider Ashleigh
Fraser busy too. And anyway it didn’t seem to affect the result, I think it
Unfortunately though, the
start just east of Forfar on the A90, was literally miles away from HQ, which
was a shame as my eldest, Katie, wanted to watch the race as Chris and I made
our way out of the car park. Not this time I said, but next.
“When’s next time and why
can’t I race this Dad?”, was the double-barrelled question, to which I didn’t
have the exact answer, “We’ll speak about later”, I said, trying to gain some
kind of race focus which was difficult as I just knew given the chance, she
would quite literally pitch up on the A90 and ride the dual carriageway to
Brechin and back, regardless. Why not? She’s her father’s daughter after all.
Nothing to lose, everything to gain.
After the race we bombed down
to Glasgow to meet Emma (of Glencoe TT fame) and her cycling friends. One of
her club-mates, Rob was a track coach and Emma had arranged a session on the
boards at the Chris Hoy Velodrome. It was ace fun, though I had my typical
moments of frustration. My girls watched on and part of me hoped they could get
a shot, but in my heart of hearts I really wanted them to watch in the hope it
would feed a desire – not the other way round.
On the road back up ‘Shire,
conversation shifted back to cycling. “So what’s that race you did today and
what’s the medal for?”, said the youngest daughter. This is gold (well actually
silver on this occasion) and it keeps me chuckling and grounded. Katie playing
the older sister role did the explaining about Graeme Obree’s record being
broken and how John is now doing well, like his sister Katie, and it was
their mother, Louise, that we had a good chat with after the podium
presentations "after party".
“Oh“, said the younger. Cogs
whirring, suddenly i-Pads/Pods/Phones and shopping in malls suddenly became less
“So Dad”, said Katie, “Can I
do a time trial?”. Music to my ears. I can die now a happy man…
But I’m still here to tell
the tale of last Tuesday evening. 10 miles, Drumoak horseshoe, 6:48pm. My
Puffer partner-in-crime, Mike Dennison gave her an early start (and the
number 3 – yay!) so she could see the mechanics of the TT process. Mike Cheney
who’s looking like the rider to beat in the Evening League was on timekeeping duty and was
taking photos of the cool, calm and collected Katie. There was a nice buzz
about the start line, less serious and focussed than normal and I was beside
myself, I’ve never been so excited, not in even with my own races!
Katie got called to the
start. She looked at me and said “Dad, I’m now nervous“. Hilarious. One minute
to go and now she’s getting twitchy! Awesome. “Good”, I said, “It means you’re
As we approached Drumoak, the
Thomsons and the Amundrud’s were making a healthy racket shouting and banging
what seemed pots and pans. As faster riders passed by, some gave her a big-up.
As I was in pursuit, I asked her to change down a gear on downhill section, but
her gears are restricted, so we have to make do with extra spinning, which I
guess is really the point.
At the half-way point I asked
how she was doing. “Ok Dad” and then tried to start a conversation. “Erhm, you
really shouldn’t be able to talk Katie”, I said, but found it funny all the
same. It doesn’t matter, she was going to get well under her target time which
we agreed would be to beat double my best time on this course.
35:34 to be exact. Superb.
But more importantly than anything else, did she enjoy it?
Of course she did and was
already asking about the next one. We made our way to the crossroads to cheer
on the last few riders coming through, looking out for Andy, Emma and Ashley as
they pushed their way up the shallow ramp towards the finish along with
seasoned youth TT rider Cameron Stromberg and debutant Isla Long with Dad (DTCC
Youth Head Coach Sam) in hot pursuit. Ashley was also riding his first ever TT
– and after the following night’s coaching session he now knows where the
finish line is (heh heh).
And that’s what wonderful
about time trialling, so many friends, clients, juniors. Boys, girls, men, women, Veteran
champions, Ironmen and Ironwomen (such as super couple Rob and Vera) were out in
force on Tuesday night. It’s a brilliant discipline, because it forces
discipline, focus and control and it’s more sociable than you think. It’s a
personal test. Can you go faster? Did you leave it all on the road? What should
you do next time? It’s honest and it asks honest questions of you.
I guess that’s why they call
it the race of truth!
cyclePosted by Jon Entwistle Fri, June 02, 2017 16:10:34
Thanks to Jamie Bell for this brilliant account of what it takes to complete a truly epic endurance ride. This was one of Jamie's priority events for this year and our plan was to firstly get him as fit as possible, but secondly to actually use the Highland Trail 550 as a marker and platform for base fitness and aerobic capacity. Now that he's successfully completed the H550 it now allows us to push Jamie to higher levels and fine tune his future races without constantly worrying about overtraining (he so fit and strong, he can recover quickly now).
It's all about the base!
Two “normal” blokes take on the Highland Trail 550 (H550).
We’re not as early as we imagined we would be. 6:45 we roll over to the exit of the Green
Welly and take a couple of “before” photos.
Excited, nervous, a bit groggy from the 5 pints in the Tyndrum Hotel the
night before – will we ever learn?
I’ll point out now that the words we and I are
interchangeable. I am doing this ride
with friend David Knowles. I don’t ride
with him that often due to our differing work and family commitments but when I
do it counts. He is the only person I
know that I could do this with. We are
of course totally self-sufficient. All
our own gear, spares, GPS route finding devices, food etc. This is for two reasons – firstly it’s the
rules and secondly what if we split up?
It’s no good having a puncture if Dave is carrying the pump and he’s
buggered off back to Tyndrum? Some
people will think this detracts from the undertaking – it’s called an
“Individual Time Trial” right? I don’t
agree. There’s no help being offered and
having a bit of company is nice. In some
ways, harder to deal with someone else for such an intense period of time. I've proved I can suffer in solitary on any
number of events. Anyway, its common on
these events to bump into people riding at exactly the same pace as you so you
end up spending hours if not days with them.
So we roll around the imposing Beinn Dorain opposite Bridge
of Orchy, it’ll be an awful long time before we see it again. Into Glen Lyon, cross a river, the first of many
over the next week. The trail is a wide
double track that rolls well and progress is good. I won’t be describing the route in detail as it’s
just too bloody long and you’ll get bored of endless names of glens you’ve
never heard of, feet soaking river crossings, leg sapping hike a bikes. I’ll just point out a few bits that stick in
my mind. Or caught us out. Or both.
There is a café in Glen Lyon, its 9:45, the owner is stood
in the garden of the café. “We don’t
open for 15 minutes” she says. OK “See
you then” we say. Not a riveting story
but something that will be repeated over the next 7 days. As with many things in life it’s all about
timing. I've studied the route, poured
over maps, read the blogs and forums. I know where everything (almost) is. But this knowledge is somewhat useless if the
place is closed. We will find certain
opening hours in Scotland over the next week to be a little challenging.
Onwards to Ben Alder.
It’s a humid day, I have no water left, so I fill up in a stream. It’s a bit brown but it tastes nice. I don’t die of typhoid or dysentery. Result.
There is a hut before the hike around Ben Alder. Rich and Tom Siepp are there enjoying a sit
down and snack. They are a father and
son team who have taken on many challenges over the last few years. Rich is a strong rider with a couple of H550
completions and many other long distance challenges to his credit. Tom is 11.
Yep 11 years old! I am a 43-year-old
bloke with years of miles in my legs and any number of races, challenges and
multi day trips that have led me to here.
Tom is 11! He has ridden a lot of
the route before, recently completed the Lakes 200 and is a veteran of the
infamous ‘Puffer 24 and Dirty Reiver.
There are two women brewing up chatting to Rich. We have our “Hayfield Hub” jerseys on. “Is that our Hayfield in Derbyshire” she
asks. So there we are 6 people in the
middle of nowhere, having not seen a single person on the hills all day and I’m
the only non-Hayfield resident. I
recognise one of the ladies. Her husband
bought my old campervan a couple of years ago.
Small world. This is ludicrous so
we say our excuses and press on.
Wet feet. The path
from the reservoir to the trail up the pass around Ben Alder disappears. There are plenty of bogs though. I think this is the last point for almost a
week where I genuinely have dry feet. The descent over the other side is an
amazing piece of singletrack and we quickly learn to handle our laden bikes
over the ubiquitous Scottish drainage bars.
I’m glad of my 29” wheels. One
catches me out and I tumble into a ditch.
No harm done fortunately.
Good weather, fast double track, we’re making strong
progress and the clicks are, well clicking by.
Over to Laggan where there is a café at the Wolf Trax trailhead. Its 5:05 pm. Its closed 5 minutes ago.
Obviously. The lights are on and people
are inside but they ignore our knocking.
We really are on our own for this one.
The Corriieyairack pass awaits so we press on. There is a bothy up there but it’s too early. 6:30 pm.
We want to get over the pass at least.
Its huge. And steep. At the top it ramps up to an unrideable gradient
with the appropriate number of false summits to chip away at moral. Jackets on and down the other side. It’s gone 8 now. We’ve been on the move for nearly 13 ½
hours. 140k, 2.7k of climbing. What an effort. We’ve worked out we need to
average 125k a day to complete inside 7 days so we’re pleased with this. As we will find out though not all days are
created equal. Sometimes a 15-hour day
doesn’t result in 125k, more of that later but with hindsight we should have
pressed on. There was light, we felt OK
and we could have ridden a couple of hours more. A lesson learnt for later in the week.
Camp one. Tents up by
a stream, down clothing on for warmth and a jetboil dinner. Homemade dehydrated food. Sleep comes easy even though its light until
well after 11. At gone 9 Rich and Tom
roll past – looking for a Bothy around the corner they shout, see you in the
Awoken by the rain bouncing off my tent at 5 am. It always
sounds worse in a tent right?
Wrong. It really is pouring
down. After a couple of “5 more minutes”
moments I get dressed, get up and stick a brew on whilst I collapse my tent,
pack the bike etc. we get rolling at
6:20 am on a fast downhill to Fort Augustus.
On the mass start a week later the fast boys will be aiming for FA by
9pm to catch the pizza shop and press on into the night. I will wish we did the same. Breakfast.
Its 7:30 and everywhere is of course closed. Even the “open all hours” petrol station
shop. “We’re not open until 8” says the
lady dragging in the papers. “I know”
says Dave, “I can read the sign on the door”.
There is a local walking a dog, “try the B&B up the road” she says. It’s closed but a really nice Polish lady
answers the door. “Breakfast?” she asks,
“We start in 20 minutes but you can have now if you like?” result!
In we go, de-robe, full Scottish, coffee refill. It’s Saturday morning
and it’s the first “real” meal since Thursday night. With hindsight, this is a short wait compared
to some days… tom and Rich turn up for a
brew. We have a chat, I don’t eat carbs
so young Tom eats the toast from my breakfast.
We stock up at the now open garage shop and press on in the
rain down the Great Glen. Joking about a
sighting of Nessie. Rich and Tom are
with us so I pump Rich for a bit more information on timings, the infamous
northern loop, Fisherfield etc. We ride
off and that’s the last we will see of them.
We are aiming for Contin, a place I recognise from numerous
Strathpuffer outings. It’s a long way and its rainy and pretty cold. The miles just tick by. I have a concept of micro and macro time for
these events. Look after the micro time and the macro hours will take care of
themselves. It’s not really about
counting down the miles it’s about riding for all the hours possible. Its incredible sometimes that a 3-hour
section can drag all afternoon whilst whole days can disappear?
We get to Contin, stock up and find a little hotel a couple
of miles out of town that’s open so we stop for a hot drink. I watch Dave fill his face with a huge basket
of cheesy chips. “Everything is local”
says the proprietor, the cheese is from Orkney.
Local we joke. Their hospitality
is great though.
As its still raining we decide the only thing to do is keep
riding so we press on in the hope it stops.
It brightens up and stops raining.
There is a bivvy spot, allegedly, some 14k or so further on. Despite our efforts we can’t find it but a
spot by the river in Strath Rannoch looks good.
It’s 9 pm, we’ve been on the go over 14 hours. Another 133k, 3k of climbing has slowed us a
little. Another good day. Progress is too good we joke, we might need
to slow things up a little. We will not
be joking so much in a few days..
Today we head for Oykel Bridge and the “northern loop”. We know things are going to get a lot
tougher. People talk about how hard the loop from Oykel back to Oykel is but
details are scarce. More double track so
progress is fast. There are a lot of
estates up here and there is clearly a lot of money in driving people up glens
to gun down stags. The pass roads are in
a better state than some of the B roads back in Derbyshire.
We reach the Oykel Bridge Hotel at 11 a.m. and the staff
rustle up a plate full of scrambled eggs and bacon and three bacon sandwiches
for Dave. Eager to get stuck into the
northern loop we don’t hang around.
Initially the going is good but the track gets increasingly vague. The climb is a giant push but we’re feeling
pretty pleased with our progress. We’ll
soon find out this is the easy bit! The amazing
views of Ben Hope and beyond distract from the effort but by now we’re walking
everything and progress is slow. We are
at the most northerly point of the route now.
I have never been this far north in Scotland and have got here entirely
We’re nearly out we think and we crest a hill to see a
hidden valley before us. There is a
small loch in a bowl of mountains with waterfalls tumbling into it. We are speechless. But there is a 300 metre drop into the valley
and a giant climb out. I joke that it
looks like Simon Fell but 3 times the size.
An hour later we’re at the bottom.
A pretty serious little river crossing and then a giant push up the
other side. I will not forget An Dubb
We finally crest the pass onto a huge technical descent next
to the imposing mountain Arxle. On to
Achfary the first GPX file provided by Alan Goldsmith runs out. 400k and its only day 3. I load up the route suffixed “back”. It feels like quite a milestone.
Again, we decide to press on but we haven’t eaten much and
we underestimate the size and gradient of the climb. It takes an age to push up. I just don’t have the legs to ride it. It’s gone 9 when we reach the top. It’s
getting cold and there is nowhere to pitch a tent. What can we do but press on? The top becomes a descent. We try a couple of spots but they're wet,
boggy and lumpy. Finally, a small
clearing. Pitch up, soup, bed. Utterly
exhausted but we feel pleased with ourselves.
Northern loop? Wasn’t that bad. It took us nearly 15 hours but we have
completed another 142k with 2.6k climbing.
I have clean dry socks, jersey and bib shorts. I decide this is the time to deploy them and
cheer me up. With hindsight, I would
have waited another day. It’s a moot
point really as by lunchtime they will be wet and stinking anyway.
I can see the sea!
The morning is taken up by a very pleasant but very lumpy road ride
around the coast of Wester Ross. It’s
part of this new North Coast 500 route.
It’s clearly very good for tourism as some very sleepy little villages
seem to be benefiting from a lot of campervan and motorhome traffic. I find the whole thing a little incongruous
though. This area of Wester Ross is a
marine conservation area and the authorities are encouraging vehicles to drive
around it in their thousands?
We left at 6:15 so everywhere is closed. Every shop, café and hotel. I stop to eat a piece of cheese. Nice breakfast. Drumbeg loudly advertises itself as the best
village store in Scotland. Well we’ll
see if it’s even open first. We arrive
at 8 am. The shop is closed but the
lights are on and the owner occupiers are busy inside. “We don’t open for another couple of hours”
says the lady, “I know” says Dave, “I can read the big sign. We’re starving, we
haven’t eaten properly since yesterday morning.”, “There are benches up at the
viewing point if you want a sit down.”
That’ll be a clear off then. Her
husband asks me where we are going, I stare blankly at him and roll away without
saying a word. In my head I am saying
fuck you Drumbeg Stores.
At Clachtoll we stumble upon Flossie’s beach hut. Its open!
They have a real espresso machine.
I drink 2 pints of milk, a giant Cappuccino and eat two sausages and two
pieces of black pudding. Dave nose bags
his usual pair of sandwiches, sausage this time. This does the trick and the
legs finally get working as we press on towards Lochinver. Some amazing singletrack trails slow us a
little but they are great fun to ride.
This is a pattern that will now repeat over the coming days.
Set off early with no breakfast, try
and coax some miles out of increasingly tired legs and minds until we can get
some breakfast and then things get a little easier. The riding is always easier with a belly full
In Lochinver, Dave pays £5.50 for a huge venison pie which
lasts about 4 minutes. We stock up and I
have a brief conversation with my wife Rach which moves me to tears. I hear her voice and I actually cannot speak
for a minute. I cannot over emphasise
how much you miss your family on trips like this. I think the fatigue heightens the emotions.
We are in good spirits climbing the pass through Glencanisp
Forest, Canisp to our left and the imposing looking Suilven towering to our
right. The climb is hard but it’s
amazing how much of it we actually ride – I think this is when I begin to
realise that no matter how tired you are and how many days you’ve been riding
you can ask your legs to give time and time again. At this rate, we’ll be back at Oykel bridge
by 2 or 3 pm. Or so we think.
It sneaks up on us at first as the trail becomes
increasingly unrideable. Before we know
it another 3 hours has gone and we are barely 5k further on. At times the path simply disappears and you
are reduced to following a line on your GPS, trying to pick a route
through. The worst bit is the
downhill. As mountain bikers were quite
used to having to push up stuff. We
accept this in return for riding down.
But when you can’t even ride down what you have pushed up… demoralised we reach the Cam Loch and wade
through a calf high bog of about 500m to reach the road. Wet feet, again. Really wet feet. With hindsight this is a really low point for
me. The slothness of the progress is
just so unexpected and demoralising. We
expected to reach the Oykel Bridge hotel at 3pm latest, it’s now gone 4 and we
are over 25k away. Heads down we grind
into a headwind and on to Oykel where we arrive in time for a bar meal sometime
There is a couple from Belper who start chatting to us. We later joke about this. “Belper, in Derbyshire”, she says,
Belper? West Midlands you mean. She is super annoying, reading things off her
map really loudly and trying to engage in conversation. I am so tired that when Dave leaves the bar
to tinker with some part of his kit or other I close my eyes and pretend to nod
off so I don’t have to interact with them.
We don’t hang around after food but head off into
increasingly heavy rain. On the map it
looks like a straightforward up and over to Ullapool. We decide to ride what we can and see where
get to. The weather really turns for the
worst as we pass a bothy – we hole up for 10 minutes or so as the worst passes.
At the top of the climb I have a moment. The sun has gone but there is plenty of
light. Dave is silhouetted ahead of me, it’s
gone 9 and we turn off the main track onto a fantastic winding footpath. If we
were back home on a night ride, riding this trail we would be delighted and it
makes me grin. It goes on too long
though. We want to be in Ullapool and
instead we are detouring along a meandering, rolling path. It’s off camber to a huge drop on our
left. I really hate this sort of trails
and inevitably I crash, over the bars rolling down the hill. I am OK but a bit shaken.
It’s gone 10 pm when we roll into Ullapool, lights on via
yet more singletrack – there is a perfectly good road into Ullapool Alan. We were hoping to catch the Tesco and perhaps
the campsite but we’ve been on the move for 16 hours now so pitch tents on a
piece of grass next to an industrial wasteland that was once a factory that has
been torn down.
12 hours riding and a lot of pushing has resulted in 125k
and 2.5k of climbing. We sleep knowing we couldn’t really have done any
more. We are also a bit afraid to be
honest as tomorrow is the hard day.
Today is going to be what we have now agreed is the money
shot of the whole route. Ahead of us lie
Fisherfield Forest, a river crossing, Letterewe Forest and the infamous
“Postman’s Path” to Kinlochewe. Alan,
creator of the route, sadist and master of understatement has described this as
a “serious bit of trail”. We head off at 5:55 am. Dave is not enjoying the early ride so an
hour or so in, just as we reach the appropriately named “Coffin Road” trail
into Fisherfield I suggest breakfast. We
brew up and I eat Chorizo and cheddar cheese whilst Dave demolishes a huge
steak slice. We feel better after this
until the first climb. It’s a
monster. It’s so steep you can’t
push. You have to thrust the bike
forward with your arms, pull the brakes step up to the bike and repeat. It’s painful and it takes an age. Near the top we meet some walkers. They are somewhat sceptical that we will get
our bikes through the trails ahead of us.
We have no choice but to get our bikes through.
Next is the river crossing.
It’s a beautiful, imposing remote place.
Described as one of the true wildernesses left in Great Britain – there
is no road for at least 50k in any direction.
Mercifully the river is shallow and we cross unhindered. Another major milestone passed.
What follows is 25k of trail that takes us 5 ½ hours to get
through. Writing this only a few days
later this is a blur. The physicality
was brutal. I had a couple of packets of
nuts, a bit of cheese and some protein bars to get me through. I do remember an amazing exposed descent with
several switchbacks and crossing a causeway across two lochs. It felt like an eternity before we finally
popped out at Loch Maree. Letterewe
Forest had taken its toll on us. Still
though we are in the middle of nowhere.
The Postman’s Path is 12k along the side of the Loch. It took us over 2 ½ hours. In places it simply doesn’t exist. “Serious bit of trail”? Serious pain in the arse. We arrived at the Kinlochewe Hotel exactly 5
minutes after the kitchen had closed. It
was heaving and plates of food were being ferried from the kitchen to the
tables. “I’ll go and see if the chef has
anything he can serve you” says the owner.
Things could have got violent at this point but fortunately she offers
us a bowl of stew and finds us a table.
I drink 3 pints of squash in 20 minutes and we sit in silence,
contemplating what we have come through and the hunger and fatigue that is upon
The waitress brings out two bowls of stew that look like
children’s portions. We have eaten so
little all day that we struggle to finish them though. I don’t eat carbs but I eat the bread roll
that is served me. Outside the wind has
picked up and the rain is lashing against the windows of the bar. It’s 9.30 pm and neither of us can face
leaving the bar let alone riding bikes.
It’s taken us 15 hours to get through today – all 75k of it – and we are
empty. Physically and emotionally
We decide on what Graham Obree describes as motivational
training and order a pint of IPA. Half
way through it I am tipsy so I have a bag of cheese and onion. We ask the barmaid about camping, she
suggests a patch of grass opposite next to the public toilets and car park. Excellent, we’ll have another pint then. And more crisps.
We leave the pub at 10.30pm and pitch up opposite. At least I won’t be shitting in the woods
when I wake up in the morning. The smell
in my tent reminds me of the old people’s home I used to visit my gran in years
ago. I decide to throw away the pair of
socks I am wearing. They are wet and
smell of the death of something or other.
The smell of my shoes is indescribable.
I know I will have to replace them.
Wet for days my feet are shrivelled in agony. Like being in the bath for
days. When they dry out in the sleeping
bag overnight the skin cracks.
We have passed the major milestones of Fisherfield Forest,
the river crossing, Letterewe and the Postman’s path. But it’s taken 15 hours to cover 74k and it’s
really taken it out of us. All our gains
from the previous days are wiped out and we now feel seriously behind
schedule. We know we couldn’t have
physically given any more but we are disappointed never the less.
An early start is in order, the only way to make the time up
is stretch the day, so we leave at 4:58am.
No food means no breakfast. Easy
road start followed by a ride \ hike up through Coulin Forest. Sadly, the cloud is low so we don’t get views
of Torridon to our West. What we ride
though down through Drochaid Coire Lair is one of the finest trails I have ever
seen anywhere and certainly amongst the top handful in Scotland. Even though we’re on the wrong bikes and
we’re laden with kit it’s obvious how special this is. Even the driving rain cant remove the
enjoyment. I think of friend back home
Dave Freeman and how he’s dragged me up any number of Lakeland passes to find
trails like this. He would literally
piss himself with excitement if he rode this.
I have to go back to this one day with my Hightower. I make a mental note.
We press on to Strathcarron, where the hotel is open and
serves us the Full Scottish. Carbs? I order extra toast I am so hungry. We get the usual uplift in spirits and riding
ability from breakfast and head off into the rain once more.
We are making good progress with the fry in us but
experiences of the last couple of days have left us scarred. You look at the trail on the map and you
don’t know whether it’s an hour or five to get through various sections. The “stress” of this seems to add to the
fatigue. Not stress in the sense of
modern life but stress from the worry.
Will we be covering 70k this afternoon or will that 20k section take 4
hours? It affects everything – where you
can stop and sleep, when you arrive at shops, cafes etc. It affects how much sleep you will get and
whether you're putting up your tent in the dark and driving rain. All this results in your brain making
constant calculations, setting and resetting your own internal expectations as
the time slips by.
The long up and over to Dornie, home of the famous castle,
is a bit hit and miss but we make it to Dornie Stores and fill our packs with
food. I drink a 4 pint carton of milk
and eat a whole can of corned beef. I’m
not even sure that I like corned beef?
The next kilometres pass easily and unmemorably by. The next real challenge is getting over the
Glenaffric pass. There are many walkers
coming the other way, most of them German, and to a man they express their
scepticism that we can possibly make it over with our bikes. We of course have no choice, not to mention
the knowledge that we have got through everything so far. It takes an hour or so and is bloody hard
work, it’s also breath taking.
We were told by someone earlier in the day, I can’t remember
who, that the descent was a fast spin down the loch and river to Tomich. It isn't.
it takes an age and is a long, long way away from the top. Dave rips a sidewall. It isn't bad but the tyre won’t hold. We are planning a break in Tomich where there
is a pub so we press on. I leave Dave to
put a tube in his tyre outside the pub, self-sufficiency rules prevent me from
helping him. In the pub I order a drink,
three packets of pork scratchings and several packets of peanuts. “We sell real food” the barman tells me, I
don’t have time I explain, I am heading for Fort Augustus. “Tonight?
Over the top? That’s a long
We leave Tomich after being on the move for 14 hours. It’s 30k to Fort Augustus and we both want to
make it. The state of the trail over the
next 15k will dictate things. We feel we
need to make FA, tomorrow is the last day and we want to give ourselves the
best chance we can.
We climb on a steep but easy fireroad. Progress isn't quick but we are pushing
pedals and discussing how it’s possible to keep the body and legs moving for so
long. We randomly both independently
reach the conclusion that the finest Utd player in living memory is Cantona. We finally reach the top and realise there is
no surprise, no pushing, no shitty unrideable footpath were our speed plummets
to 3k an hour. We both know we won’t be
giving up until FA now however late it gets.
The final climb and descent is on Wade’s road into FA. It was built for the English troops to march
on after Culloden so we know it will be OK.
We descend in darkness and deliriousness into FA and finally
stop at 11:30. We find a playground with a BMX halfpipe and some flat grass and
pitch up without hesitation. We have been
on the move for 18 hours now. I joke
with Dave that some people don’t manage that much riding on a 24 solo! We turn in at 12:30 am, I set my alarm for 3
½ hours later.
I don’t know how to feel now. I am so tired I could cry myself to
sleep. The end is so close, just a day
away. But I know I also don’t want it to
Today we have ridden 143k, climbed just over 3k and been on
the go for 18 hours.
We roll out of FA at 4:42 am. Onto the canal path for the flat run into
Fort William. This would normally be so
easy but the legs don’t work, it’s hard to sit down, finding any rhythm is
impossible. I’d prefer a climb to be
honest. It forces you to put the effort
in and get the legs moving. A brief stop
for roast chicken and cheddar cheese breakfast.
It takes us over 3 hours to ride the almost 50k to FW. We head straight into town to the Morrison’s
and its café. I order the “Big
Scotsman”, with extra black pudding, extra sausage, pint of milk, coffee and
coke. Did I mention carbs? Potato scone, fried bread and toast. I mention to Dave that I may never be able to
eat again in my life. It takes me 15
minutes to buy some provisions and get back to my bike in the car park. I am already eating again as I pack them away.
I know the rest of the route now. Or at least I think I do. I have ridden all or parts of it before. It’s just the West Highland Way from FB to
Tyndrum. Just. I remember when this would have felt like an
epic ride to me in its own right. The
suns out and its starting to get hot. As
I am putting on some sun cream I comment that I am now using the last piece of
kit that has so far been unused.
The first miles are fun and the rolling wide trail to
Kinlochleven is proving to be pretty much ridable. There are lots of people. Lots and lots. The further we get along the track to
Kinlochleven the more people there are.
We are not used to people, we are used to long empty tracks where we
perhaps see a handful of people in a whole day.
It doesn’t take long for me to get bored of saying hello to people. We are applauded, whistled at and
saluted. I think this is more to do with
the Devil’s Staircase that is yet to come.
It always surprises me that people think you don’t know what you're
doing. Scores of people tell us we’ll struggle
to get through later up the trail.
Really??! We’ve come something
like 850k to this point and we’re not getting over the staircase? They don’t know this of course.
I have to stop on the descent to Kinlochleven. My hands are
buzzing from the hits and drops. At the
bottom I unlock my fork and it feels much better after that! A coffee, more food and 20 minutes in the sun
in kinlochleven and we’re off again.
Dave has never ridden the staircase and I am trying to recall it from my
hazy memories of 10 years ago. It’s not
rideable Dave I say. Too steep at the
bottom and too rocky further up. But we
ride. And keep riding. I don’t know how but we clean the vast
majority of the super steep double track that is the first 4k or so of the
climb. Clearly my legs are a bit
stronger than they were 10 years ago!
There are people everywhere now and the comments and applause
continue. As do the helpful comments
about not getting over the top.
We meet an English family and the dad asks what we’re up
to. “You’re not doing the Highland 550
are you?” WTF. Nobody has ever heard of the H550. My wife has no idea what I’m doing and half
my cycling friends don’t know what it is.
“Is that miles or kilometres” they usually ask. This chap has been to a speech by non-other
than Lee Craigie, so he knows all about it.
We’re off the bikes and for an hour or so we’re on and off
as the rocky trail dictates. The little
Shepherd finally comes into view over the horizon in Glen Coe and we’re
there. A few pictures. A helpful chat with a German chap. “I think you will find the drop here a bit
too much down”. Whatever that
means. Red rag to us we’re off. And we clean most of it. We have become rather adept at manhandling
these heavy inappropriate bikes down some pretty serious trails. Perhaps it’s the effort involved in getting
on and off that pushes us into taking a deep breath and keeping going.
It’s harder than I remember climbing over to the Kings
House. There are dozens of young people
lounging around drinking in the sun. It
looks like some sort of mecca for backpackers, and a little out of place. Last time I was here a few years ago it was
We stop next to Glen Coe Ski village and I fall asleep for a
moment on the grass, late night, early start, huge effort, excessive sun and
dehydration. A car passes and beeps its
horn. I take this as a sign to get up
and get moving.
We are 25k or so from Tyndrum now – we need to get this over
the line but the next 3 hours will take an age.
I am expecting an uplift in spirits and a “final second wind” but it
doesn’t come. If anything it’s the
opposite. Subconsciously I don’t think I
want it to end even though I am desperate to finish.
We pass a man dressed as a banana. A little time later Dave asks me what I think
of him. I reply honestly, total
ambivalence. I put in a big effort to
churn the pedals to Bridge of Orchy. I
can see Beinn Dorain now so I know we’re close.
It’s the same scene at Bridge of Orchy Hotel as the Kings House. We opt to just press on.
The final 8k or so take an age and then suddenly its 3k to
go, then 2. I remember this climb at the
beginning so it’s all downhill to the end now.
We roll into the Green Welly 6 days, 12 hours and 15 minutes
after we left. I am not sure either of
us really knows how we should feel but we know we have achieved something
big. We’re on a high, we’re relieved,
exhausted and elated. After a few
pictures, words and fist pumps we hug and then buy some beers. I think we’re a bit in shock really.
We have literally come full circle as we get into some
“civvies” and head to the Tyndrum Hotel for a pint. There are a group of bikepackers sat at a
table. The H550 mass start is in 2 days’
time so we know why they're here. The
event attracts people from all over the world now. Lycra, facial hair, Italian riding caps, pony
tails and foreign accents. They stand
out a mile. We grab a pint and I go back
out to talk to them. They are not overly
friendly. “Who’s bike is that I ask?”,
“Are you doing the 550?”. We receive a
couple of grunts in reply. “We’ve just
finished about an hour ago”, I say, “6 days 12 hours.” They all stop talking and it’s like a switch
with them. “Sit down boys”, “How was
it?”, “How’s the river crossing?”, “How was Fisherfield?” We talk to them for half an hour or so as
they are eager for any bit of information we can give them. Only one has attempted the ride before and he
didn’t make it. I am trying to explain a
couple of sections of trail and how many hours it will take them. I can see they don’t believe me. “You’re shit” their thinking. “Of course I’ll be able to ride it.” I am not the strongest rider I know but I
know what's rideable and what isn't. I
also know that when you're off and pushing through boulder fields we all move
at pretty much the same pace.
I finish the conversation by saying I am glad I am in the
position of having finished and not waiting to get going, I am also probably a
bit jealous of the adventure and journey ahead of them. We wish them luck and repair to the pub.
After 2 more pints and a big steak we are nodding off and
head back to Dave’s camper. The
exhaustion means I can’t even walk in a straight line across the Green Welly
carpark. Too tired to think I am asleep
in seconds. Now we have finished it’s like
the brain relaxes and the body lets go a bit. My hands and feet are sore and
tingling, days later they still will be.
cyclePosted by Jon Entwistle Tue, May 16, 2017 12:01:27
It started and ended in a
On Saturday afternoon I was
shaving my legs in my van watching Emma back her dayglow orange van into a
barrier in the Clachaig Hotel car park, Glencoe.
It sounded worse than it
looked. “Och it’s fine”, she said “Let’s get something to eat”. I made a joke
about my legs being smoother than hers and how odd I find having to shave my
legs for time trialling. Roll on winter!
In the Clachaig we got
chatting to Alan and Stephen from the Couriers. They too were racing the
inaugural Tour of Glencoe time trial the next day and we were all buzzing with
excitement whilst my pocket was buzzing with messages from Stevie Blom and the
GTR boys just to add to the waves of excitement…
From Chris to the GTR WhatsApp
group “Well done Stevie, it’s a belter”. He and Andy from GTR had recce’ed the
course on Saturday afternoon.
From Stevie to me “This will
be my big effort of the year going on…people here are dynamite…I’ll be up at
06:15 tomorrow to do a risk assessment”.
After an indifferent sleep in
the van I awoke early due to the morning light and decided to get the kettle
on. Another message from Stevie at 05:46.
“Well the tent seems intact
after last night’s epic wind and rain. Saw every hour pass through the night.
See you troops at the rallying point”.
No sign of Emma stirring in
her van. So I decided to stretch the legs and do a little work to pass the
time. As 7am approached Emma appeared in the gloom of the car park and so I got
the kettle on again and then we boosted over to HQ at Ballachulish Hall in our
respective vans to start the bike preparations.
Riders from all over the
country were beginning to arrive. Some had come from Jersey! Familiar faces
started to appear too and the car park down by the Loch was awash with turbos
and bike chat. I turned my attentions to the ever-enthusiastic, committed and
energetic Emma. She was off early (09:07) and I had some bike checking, gear
selection and number pinning to do, along with race tactics. And then she was away
to start, excited and race ready. I decided to wrestle with my skinsuit and get
the lo-down with the GTR boys before nipping up onto the A82 drag to snap the
first ever female to start the Tour of Glencoe.
And exactly 50 minutes later after
the first female, I was away too. Was this to be an enjoyable date with pain?
I didn’t have a particular
agenda or focus for this race. Just enjoy it. Surprisingly good early season
results had settled the usual concerns that come with winter training (am I
faster, fitter, stronger? Answer, yes, phew). But the course felt very
different from the Sunday in March when we did some promotional work for the
event. The hills were shorter (ha ha, of course, doh!) and by the time I got to
Kinlochleven, I’d miscounted the big climbs. Not to worry, headwind is coming.
I love the wind! Time to bury thyself!
The second part is
undulating, scenic and windy as it’s exposed in places as the trees give way to
mountainous vistas over the sea loch. Having met Ed Hood in person (usually
it’s on the phone or via messenger) for the first time in the car park a couple of
hours earlier, I recognised him and could see him snapping away and driving
ahead. This gave me an extra boost and I found turning the 60 tooth front
chainring quite easy, particularly as I’d opted to experiment with a higher
cadence in this race. Always experimenting, always learning. Even in races.
The finish came quicker than
I was expected and unlike the winner of Vets category Pete Nicholl, I had
managed to keep my breakfast down and was wanting more having recovered quickly
from the last killer climb which caught everyone out, even course record setter
and overall winner, John Archibald.
Back to hall and my eyes lit
up. Dope control had arrived. Yes! No. I checked the numbers and
mine hadn’t been selected. Ah well hopefully next time? I’m fascinated by the
process and unless Malbec has been black listed as a banned substance (maybe I
need to check?), I’m dying to be tested. This year (yeah, another experiment)
I’ve decided to eat and drink everything as close to source. So, no
multivitamins, no gels, not even taking my hayfever medication and despite
having been diagnosed with asthma for nearly 40 years, not even sprays (I
stopped taking these about five year’s ago, though I do a great Mutley
impression). No supplements. Nada. Like our GTR skinsuits, keeping it simple,
keeping it pure.
In the hall, there was a
different buzz from normal. I really like CTT events, there’s more of a
convivial feel. Less glitz, less formal, but more integral. Graeme Obree nailed
it in between speeches from Willie Cosh, Mark Atkinson and Caroline MacIntyre.
Graeme talked how amateur sport doesn't happen without volunteers who are equally as passionate as the racers. And for the racers all you have to do is pin a number on and have a go. Emma did and even she was
the only female not to pick up a prize (the first five got vouchers along with
the lantern rouge), she was buzzing with the satisfaction of becoming a proper
bike racer. I was in her good books…but for how long?
But as we waited in my van in
Tyndrum (after fish and chips and then spending my white envelope on coffee and
cakes), Graeme spotting and figuring out ways to get back into Emma’s bad
books, it slowly began to dawn on me that we had contributed to something
And then as I loaded Graeme’s
20 tonne bike into Emma’s van in a deluge as he wished me all the best for the
season, I realised she had picked up the biggest prize of them all…to drive the
double World Champion and hour record holder home!
No it wasn’t a dream, a
one-off. It was the start of something special. It’s already organically
started to grow arms and legs. People are still buzzing two days on.
Thanks to you Stevie Blom!
cyclePosted by Jon Entwistle Mon, May 08, 2017 12:50:21
I love racing a week into May. I don’t know why but something special always happens from a cycling and personal
And the weekend past was no
different. Yesterday, just like a year ago, I stood on the podium in a national
time trial with a silver medal. Last year I was working hard to catch my top
mate and GTR teammate Chris Smart. Yesterday it was the new kid on the block,
the irrepressible and incredibly talented, John Archibald. Last year it was 8
seconds, yesterday, 43. And for a minute or so I think I had the, CR - Course Record!
Have we gone backwards?
Absolutely not! I was telling someone a couple of months ago that last year
someone had unofficially labelled me as the fastest guy on the road in Scotland
because on a Tuesday night in mid-August I entered the elusive 19’ club for 10 miles and
then the following Sunday smashed the Scottish record for 100 miles. Composite
all rounder. And so this year, I’m already fitter, stronger, faster and more
No it’s not. I’ve proved it.
I’ve done my homework and I’ve stuck to my task. No deviations. I trained for 3
years with a 10 year plan (I actually have a 25 year plan, but that’s for
another day). I wanted to make the most having quit smoking and I was fed up
being a tubby, grey family man with good genetics and a massive
aerobic tank who believed he could do better even if no-one else did. So I
worked hard, trained harder, rested smarter and slowly the snowball began to, well, snowball. But in 2017 I'm not the fastest, so far.
champion, Chris Smart, is national winner (Scottish and British), umpteen times
over. I won’t go into details because he won’t thank me for it. But he has a
cupboard full of trophies, medals, jerseys and like me he’s a bit uncomfortable
talking about them or showing them off. But I’ve seen it and it’s impressive. Like
me, he works really hard and he has a plan which he sticks to and he too is
fitter, faster, stronger than before.
So we haven’t gone backwards.
Nope. We’ve simply been eclipsed whilst travelling at what feels the speed of
light. And quite frankly, I think it’s wonderful. One of the advantages of
having a tiny ego, is that I can enjoy my racing, do my best and live in hope,
not expectation. Race because we love racing. Not for positions, podiums, white
envelopes. Someone has to come last, someone has to come first. It’s that
simple. I wasn’t beaten. I was 96th slowest, or second fastest. And on the day,
I gave it my best shot.
As so did my teammates, ex-Marines, Chris and Lewis. We literally left
it on the road and it still wasn’t good enough to take the team prize, but we’re
a team regardless and that matters more to me than anything else. Mates, band
of Brothers. We look out for each and we support each other. We win together,
we lose together, we swear at each other and we do fist bumps, high fives and
the odd man hug too.
Last week after I won the CTT
Scottish 10 mile Championships on the Westferry course outside Glasgow, I’d
found my own elephant in the room. How would John have fared in the race? The
truth is he would have won by 30 seconds. I’ve been using software to model my
clients and rivals for a couple of years now and he’s got the power and a CdA to die for. It’s
an aerodynamicists dream and now justifies 4 years of studying turbulence to
gain that PhD from Edinburgh Uni back in 99. So after the CTT champs, Chris and
I spent the afternoon, figuring out how he can go faster (we’ve started with a
new helmet, more changes are coming). I did this last year when we were just rivals
as I felt I owed him for planting the seed of the 19’ club in my head and I
badly wanted him to join me. And so he did, 4 days later. And then a couple of
days after that, a certain John Archibald posted 19:59 on the Cambusbarron Stirling
course (he has simply obliterated that back in March with an incredible 19:25).
The wunderkind has arrived, rejoice!
2017 thus far is John’s year.
But it’s also Jon’s (without an “h”) year too. My eldest daughter who I don’t
see much of these days messaged me to ask how I got on. You can read the transcript
in the photo above (excuse the grammar Natalie). I’ve made somebody proud and hopefully inspired both young
and old to pin a number and have a go. That’s what it’s all about. I always say
even when you win there’s always someone faster than you. And if we can’t give
John something to think about (believe me we are trying!) then I personally
hope he quickly moves up another level too, or we will never
see his true potential and I for one, would be truly gutted.
So silver once again after a week of May. One for the collection, but I got more satisfaction out of
learning how to team time trial when Lewis, Chris and I took to road after the medal
presentations to try something I’ve never done before and always wanted to do.
And for a brief moment, despite
my usual cluelessness, we moved like a well-oiled machine at high speed, inches
from each other’s wheels at high speed having listened intently to the guy who I have the
upmost respect for, who’s been there, done it all and will come back and do it
all again, as he moved effortlessly through to the front, I had a moment of
complete and utter euphoria and shouted to Chris almost in tears of joy…
“This is what it’s ….ing