Sunday, 03 June 2018
Alex writes:
Following the dreadful
news of the death of Mike Hall last year, some of his wheelmates in the audax community decided to run a memorial event. The
result was "This is not a tour" (TINAT), conceived as a 400 km ride that took in Mike's favoured terrain, including mandatory off-road sections and "some of the steepest 7500 meters of ascent you'll ride in Wales".
The event expanded to include distances and time limits of all kinds but I signed-up for the original: a 400km route to be ridden in 28hrs 12mins, starting on Saturday at 06:00.
I drove up from Cambridge on the Friday, and once installed in the event's guest house in Llandrindod Wells, resolved to have an early night (8pm) to catch-up on lost sleep.
However, I bumped into Nick W (also riding the 400) and we thought a "swift half" was in order. This expanded into a couple of pints and an extended chat so it wasn't untill 11 that I retired.
After a fitful night's sleep I soon found myself on the ride, heading west for the first leg: 50km to Tregaron. It wasn't long before the route showed its character with some steep ramps to be winched up, getting progressively more challenging until, after 30km, there was a 25% gradient sign announcing we had arrived at the
Devil's Staircase. I attacked the ramp, which was wickedly steep, thinking "this is doable", but then rounding a corner the full extent of the horror revealed itself: the steepness went on and on the slope was dotted with riders either winching, or pushing, their bikes. I soon joined the latter category.
Following this there was an unrelenting succession of steep climbs and worrying descents, before Tregaron itself where I paused for water and crisps. On leaving I was 25 minutes ahead of my target time: so far so good. The conditions were very humid and I was soaked with sweat. I removed my helmet and strapped it to my saddle bag in an attempt to stay cooler.
The next leg soon revealed a new challenge: the off-road sections. Although not full-on mountain bike terrain this first section, of 14 km, was not an easy surface either: as a fellow cyclist put it: "this isn't gravel, it's rocks!". After a while there was a ford to cross, I stopped to assess it and decided it could be ridden through.
It was deep enough to submerse one pedalling foot but the gravelly bottom wasn't slippery and I got through without a soaking.
Throughout this section I passed several cyclists who had punctured: some with punctured tubes, some with pinch flats, and a couple with tubeless tyres who had slashed sidewalls. It's probably the luck of the draw, but my tactic of choosing a line, keeping the speed down and the saddle unweighted seemed to pay off and I quite enjoyed this novel experience, despite the juddery ride.
It was however with a sense of relief that I rejoined the tarmac at Claerwen Dam.
There followed a section of riding in the exquisite Elan Valley, which included a second off-road section on a well-maintained bridleway.
I was still sweating profusely, so much so the sweat was pooling in my glasses disturbing my field of vision. I removed them and unzipped my jersey to try and get my temperature down. An occasional phlegmy cough reminded me I was at the tail end of a cold, and frequent yawns reminded me I was carrying a sleep debt. Was this a good state to be in for such a ride, I wondered.
A while later the third off-road section began, and this was a horror. A narrow mohican strip of tarmac
snaked up into the hills, with a wheel-imperilling drop of several inches on either side into hideous rockiness. Staying on the strip was hard. Staying on the strip got harder as it narrowed. Staying on the strip became an extreme challenge as the gradient ramped up towards 20%. The first such section done, I dismounted, panting heavily, to recover. But the recovery wouldn't come and I stood there, panting, for minutes.
Following the mohican ascent, there was a terrifying mohican descent requiring full concentration to stay "on strip" on the extreme gradient. I felt thankful I had good brakes and shouted "this is insane" as I hurtled down.
Then more severe climbing. I was still sweating heavily and my power output was diminishing: this climb, to 526 m, was extremely gruelling. At the top, riders on the slower rides has stopped to picnic and take in the views, but my time limits meant I had to push on. On the descent I began to feel shivery and detached from reality, and for the final run to the control to Llandidloes found it difficult to attain any sort of speed. I began to wonder about abandoning.
Still, I had time in hand and knew from previous events that thoughts of abandonment could be banished with a rest and a rethink. I had a sandwich and a cup of tea, tabling any decision for a while to see if I felt better.
But I didn't, and after comparing how I felt with what I knew the course had in store for me, I informed the controller I was abandoning, strolled across the road to a hotel and booked a room. When my head hit the pillow I slept for a blissful 11 hours.
It was my first DNF (did not finish) - other than those caused by crashing, but I knew it was the right decision.
The day after
The next day I rode back to Llandrindod Wells where the arrivée (and my car) was. It was a beautiful morning and the Welsh valleys looked resplendent.
At the arrivée I stayed chatting to the controllers as riders filtered back, looking shell-shocked. There had been a high DNF rate. As I drove out of town I saw Nick W cycling doggedly towards the arrivée, apparently having ridden the whole course but out of time.
This had been easily the toughest ride I have ever attempted and it had defeated me. Not fresh enough; not fit enough; not healthy enough and too heavy ... on "normal" audaxes it's possible to get away with some of this stuff, but for this ride there was to be no winging it. Still what I did ride was an awesome experience: thanks must go to Mark Rigby and the dedicated team of volunteers that made such a memorable weekend happen! Maybe next year I will settle this unfinished business ...