From C To Shining C

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Hello again. For those of you who read my last blog first let me assure you that I am alive and well and that my shoulder healed up nicely a long time ago. You may remember that I broke my collar bone whilst cycling down a volcano in Hawaii a year ago. Well there have been no big trips to speak of this year. Sadly due to a lack of funds and creditable work I missed out on the chance to attend the APS conference, held this year in San Diego (To be honest I don’t much care for America anyways so no big deal). However, thanks to a drunken promise made to my cousin Adam Bartlett, I have been in training since the start of the year to cycle from one side of our great nation to the other. The so called Coast to Coast (C2C) route is popular among cycling enthusiasts up and down the country so I thought that I might try my hand at it to. Now for those of you that know me, you’ll know that I’m not exactly the most… athletic person out there. It’s not that I’m unhealthy… well I’m a little unhealthy, but I never went in to sports much and as my so called friends would delight in pointing out, I’m a little on the plump side. Nevertheless I do enjoy a challenge and this was a doosey. The C2C begins in either Whitehaven or Workington on the west coast and finishes in either Newcastle or Sunderland in the east, crossing around 150 miles of the hilliest hills in between. Since we live in North Lincolnshire (which is basically as flat as it gets in England) the training, though intense, could never really prepare us for the agonising uphill climbs nor the terrifying downhill free wheeling that forms the basis of cycling in Cumbria and Northumberland. Still, as the summer began to draw to a close so too did the realisation that we’d either have to bite the bullet or spend the rest of our lives wondering what might have been.

Day 0: Getting there is Half the Fun

I’ve included the journey to the starting point at Workington as its own section because, as you’ll soon see, it was not without its eventfulness. We left Scunthorpe on the morning of Thursday the 11th of September. With the front wheels off, the bikes fitted easily into the back of Adam’s car. The plan was to drive with the bikes to Washington (that’s near Newcastle at the end of the C2C route) and, with my flat mate’s kind permission, park the car at his parents’ house. Then we would have to cycle 10 or so miles to Newcastle train station and board a train bound for Workington. After that we cycle the C2C, load the bikes back in the car at the end and drive home. Piece of cake! By a curious coincidence, the Tour of Britain (that’s like the Tour de France but British) cyclists were passing through our neck of the woods that day so on the way to Washington, we stopped by the Humber Bridge (near Hull) to watch them go by. Among those cycling were some of Britain’s gold medal winners at the Beijing Olympics (I forget the names) so it was a pretty big event. Before the cyclists screeched by, a few cheeky policemen passed us on motorcycles, on their way to close the roads further along the route. As they passed a group of kids from a local school, each one would give a blast of his siren and wave to the goggling masses. When the cyclist did eventually pass by, they zoomed by so fast it was barely worth watching. You’d think they could have slowed down a little so I could get a good look at em. I did snap a couple of good pics though.

With the Tour of Britain behind us, we set our sights on our own cycling challenge. Once in Washington, we unloaded the car, fixed up the bikes and got changed in to our cycling gear. It was then that I had a nasty shock. Like an absolute fool I’d left my trainers back in Scunthorpe and all I had were the ridiculously inappropriate shoes I was wearing. There was no way I’d be able to complete the C2C like this so with the disgruntled Adam in tow, I made for the town centre of Washington to buy a new pair, Got a pretty good deal in the end at this shopping mall. Sadly, I was faced with the choice of, carrying my old shoes for the rest of the trip (which I wasn’t going to do), taking them all the way back to car (which also didn’t appeal to me) or throwing them away, so in the bin they went. Perhaps some Geordie tramp will make good use of them. Now we were stuck in an unfamiliar area, with no idea of how to get to the train station. Luckily, I was wearing my compass watch so we ventured forth in a North Westerly direction to what we hoped was Newcastle. After some initial difficulty, it soon became apparent that we were on the right track (the Tyne Bridge was a big give away). It was then that disaster struck again, this time befalling the unfortunate Adam. Whilst riding up on to the kerb (smooth move) he buckled the back wheel of his bike. It was completely totalled and there was no way he could ride the remaining 2 miles to the station, so we had to walk it. Eventually we rolled into the station at half five and picked up tickets for Workington. Our luck took a turn for the better as we were able to board the train with our bikes with no trouble. The train ride there seemed to take ages and throughout most of the journey we were treated to listening to the life story of this old dick head in his mid sixties who was trying to chat up a girl of 17. Later that same journey we passed a woman sat slumped over a bench at a train station that at first I thought was dead. After some prodding from the train driver she came to and was brought on board. “Where am I?” she kept repeating, “Where am I?” either she’d been abducted by aliens or (and this probably more likely) was off her face on drugs. At nine of the o’clock we reached Workington train station, where it was pitch black and raining. After donning our reflective jackets and attaching lights to our bikes (which we still weren’t riding because of the buckled back wheel problem) we made our weary way to the B&B we were staying at that night. Again we somehow managed to get lost but with a little help from Google maps on my phone and the ever useful compass watch we were back on track. It was gone ten when we finally found the place and I was shattered. We hadn’t even started yet and I was shattered! It was straight to bed that night with no tea. This wasn’t the best way to start off a gruelling 150 mile bike ride, but at least we were here.

Day 1: Chasing Sunsets

We awoke that morning and devoured a full English breakfast (gotta keep our strength up). We then got detailed instructions from the proprietor about how to find the start of the C2C. Unfortunately for us though we had to head into town first to get Adam’s bike fixed. After consulting Google maps again we found a good place called the Bike Bank. I think it cost about £40 quid to get a new wheel in the end and I took nearly 2 hours to fix. When at last the repairs were complete, we made for the starting point at the coast. There was a little C2C monument there and we got to dip our bikes in the Irish Sea and take some pictures. It was 11.30 (diet coke break?) before we were finally ready for the off. This was going to be a problem. We had a long days cycling ahead of us and it was already noon. We’d been told we would see other C2Cers at the starting point but it was so late that nobody was there but us. The plan was to stop for lunch in Keswick (about the half way) and then to make for Penrith, where we would spend the night. About a mile into the journey we came across a police blockade along a railway bridge we were supposed to cross. The policeman (quite a helpful young man) gave us directions around the blockade which added extra miles to the trip and then we got slightly lost again, which added even more miles and wasted our precious time. We picked up the trail again in Seaton (you know where you’re on the route cause there’s little blue signs posted everywhere) and encountered our first hills. I’d like to think I handled going up them quite well, but I could only go as fast as Adam so every so often I had to wait for him to catch up. Now we had crossed into some farmer’s field and were accosted by a herd of cows. One of them was a right big bugger that glared at us menacingly as we carefully edged past. Once we’d safely traversed the fields we came upon the rockiest steepest descent I’ve ever seen. I was bricking it just walking down the thing never mind riding the bike. By this time it was getting on for 4 o’clock and we still hadn’t reached Keswick or had any lunch. Ravenous, we stopped at a quaint little cafe and I scoffed down a couple of sandwiches. I think the thing I enjoyed most about this trip was eating as much food as possible and not feeling guilty about it. Refreshed, we continued on into Keswick with renewed vigour. It was then that I noticed my seat had started to wobble slightly (pay attention to this as it’s going to be important later). Rather than waste time looking for somewhere to fix it I put it to the back of my mind and focused on the task at hand. The sun was going down and we were miles from our goal. They say drastic times call for drastic measures and this was no exception. We took a slight detour onto the A66 in order to reach Penrith as fast as possible. By this time I was pretty dead. It was dark, it was raining, there were cars whizzing past me. All I was conscious of was the continual pounding of my feet on the pedals and the dire need for us to reach Penrith. Finally, we were there. It was with a profound sense of relief that we rolled our bikes into the shed at the B&B and collapsed onto our beds. While extremely tired I couldn’t face going to bed without tea for the second night in a row, so we made a dash to the KFC and wolfed down a couple of 3 piece meals. I vowed that tomorrow, we would set off before 9 am. There was no way I was going to cycle through the dark again.

Day 1 Statistics:
Distance Covered - 54.91 miles
Time Taken - 6 hours 23 minutes
Average Speed - 8.5 mph
Max Speed - 24.8 mph

Day Two: Onwards and Upwards

Today was going to be the toughest challenge we had to face. Although this was the shortest trek of our journey, we had to cross the Pennines and that meant going up a lot of hills. After a substantial breakfast, we tour out of Penrith and back onto the C2C. Since we’d started at a decent time today, we actually met other riders on the route (most of which were overtaking us I’m sorry to say). We hit the hills sooner than I’d of liked and began the long, arduous climb to the top. The steepest climb came at the aptly named Hartside Heights. This monster stood 1903 feet tall at its summit and was wreathed in clouds. I did my best to tackle the steep winding road on my bike but I’m not stupid. I’m an Engineer and I’ll take the most efficient path every time. While some die hard cyclists remained fixed to their bicycle seats, I got off and pushed on some of the steeper bits. Why use up all that energy and risk a heart attack when walking is ten times easier? As another walker pointed out to me “It’s called the Coast to Coast. It doesn’t say anything about how you have to do it”. At the top of Hartside was a cafe full of pensioners and other lazy people that had driven up there (why exactly?) so we filled our boots and then had a nice relaxing 4 mile decent before the next hill. At Nenthead we were making good time so we stopped into a pub for a pint (the first of the trip). Adam is a self professed beer enthusiast and I’m a student so it was a minor miracle we’d gone this long without alcohol at all. The beer numbed the pain in my legs and gave me the resolve to get this days cycling finished. We’d passed the halfway point and I finally started to believe that we could do this thing. Most of the other cyclists stopped that night in Allenheads but since we hadn’t been able to get any accommodation there we had one more hill to tackle. At the top of that hill I had just about had enough. Although my spirit was willing, my legs ached so much. It was all I could do just to hold onto my handlebars and cruise down that hill into Rookhope but then we were there and what’s more we’d made reasonable time. Walking up the stairs to our room was agony. I plonked myself down into a bath and let the warm water sooth my tired muscles. God I hope my legs feel better before tomorrow.

Day Two Statistics:
Distance Covered - 41.42 miles
Time Taken - 5 hours 57 minutes
Average Speed - 6.9 mph
Max Speed - 28.9 mph

Day Three: The Coast to the Coast

It was the final day. Amazingly my legs had been healed (to some extent) through the night. There was only one hill left to climb on the entire trip, and it was right at the start of today. With that out of the way we could basically freewheel the rest of the way to Sunderland (well nearly, there was still a fair amount of cycling to be done). This was probably the muddiest day of the trip. I don’t know if it was intentional, but the route went through some sort of maze of muddy puddles and I just didn’t have the energy to bother picking my way round them. Consequently, I took on the appearance of a skunk when a neat line of mud was plastered up my back. With about 20 miles or so to go my right knee started to hurt. It seemed as if the relentless cycling was finally catching up to me. Luckily I had come prepared. I brought out my ipod shuffle which I had cleverly filled full of inspirational music to be used at a time when I felt I could no longer go on. The majority of these tunes come from movies with a training montage of some sort in them (e.g. Rocky). Here’s a brief list of some of the better ones…

Hearts on Fire - From Rocky IV (the one with the Russian)
Push it to the Limit - From Scarface
Mighty Wings - From Top Gun
You’re the Best - From Karate Kid

We happened upon some strange metal sculptures along the route. Worth a couple of photos but all I really wanted to do was get to that coast. Soon enough we were back in Washington where we had left the car. Just 10 miles and we would be finished (well except for the 10 miles we had to cycle back to the car afterwards). As we neared the coast my pace quickened. The ipod was thrashing out some of the best music known to man and it felt awesome. As the theme from Rocky (Gonna Fly Now) pumped in my ears we sped around the longest harbour ever and onto the beach. I hobbled down to the water with my bike and triumphantly paddled into the sea. Victory! Keen to make this the ultimate victory I suggest we get as far out to sea as possible by cycling down the pier to the lighthouse. It was then that it happened. Remember my bike seat started wobbling on day one. As we cycled down the jetty my seat suddenly disappeared from underneath me. The bolt attaching it to the seat post had snapped clean in two. This left us with something of a problem. We had 10 miles to cycle back to car and I had no seat. The only option open to us was for me to ride standing up or risk being impaled by my seat post. Let me assure you this is very tiring to do when you’ve got 10 miles to cover and you’ve just covered 150 miles over the past 3 days. The task was made all the more difficult by the slack jawed yokels who delighted in pointing out to me that my seat had fallen off. “Oh really? I hadn’t noticed”. When we finally got back to car I was exhausted, in pain and filthy but also extremely happy. I had traversed this great country of ours from one side to the other and I’d done it all on my own steam. We’d faced more than our fair share of problems and not one of them had kept us from achieving our goal. While Adam drove us back I thought about what my next challenge would be. Whatever it is I hope it’s as memorable as this one.

Day Three Statistics:
Distance Covered - 45.38 miles
Time Taken - 4 hours 56 minutes
Average Speed - 9.1 mph
Max Speed - 26.8 mph

Overall Statistics:
Distance Covered - 141.71 miles
Time Taken - 17 hours 16 minutes
Average Speed - 8.2 mph
Max Speed - 28.9 mph

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