Day 10 to Day 12

Day 10 – Delamere to Wentnor, a day of days (by Stuart)

Well it was a day of days, but for the wrong reasons. Firstly we all were a might concerned the previous night over predictions of gale force winds hitting the south-west the day we would be riding over the Severn Bridge. Also, I didn't quite realise that the tweet that I sent at the first rest stop today would create quite such concern (for which I am grateful).

I awoke this morning, to find that the persistant ache that I had since the 107 mile ride to Luss (which I originally put down to my shoe rubbing which actually seemed like it was getting better), was now a lot more painful, but also a lot more worryingly, I could feel the Achilles Tendon creaking in it's sheath. Not a good sign indeed.

This, I hope, doesn't tar the final days of the ride too much, as there is no hope for a quick recovery throughout the ride. Damaged tendons can take months to heal, and if severe I could be looking at up to 6 months off the bike once this ride is over. Still I am not about to climb off the bike, because I damn well owe it to all those who have donated and support us on this endeavour. So naturally the thoughts turn to damage mitigation.

After a depressing few minutes when the reality of the situation sinks in, we realise that it's possible to continue, although I would have to take things easy from now on. No more fun on the descents, no more attacking hills with gusto, and much slower average speeds. That and Ibuprofen, Tiger Balm, and massages.

We lowered my saddle, to reduce me over-stretching my ankle (and the leg as a whole), and I also donned two pairs of socks, to provide some additional support and to raise my foot slightly. After the previous nights heavy rain (of which I'm pleased to say our tent has passed the water-proofing test), we set off into sunshine and patchy cloud. Alex set off leading the way, which looks like he will be doing most of the way now.

Getting ready to go...

...although I'm a bit fed up

We were riding barely in excess of 10mph, so it was going to be a slow day. A few unforgiving hills were thrown at us early on, so I just had to go into the lowest gear possible and 'sit and spin' the pedals. After about 8 miles, we were dismayed to come across a road closure, which added in a little under a mile to our ride for the day. Not long after that we came accross a 'mooving' road block. A local farmer had decided to move a herd of cows from one field to another, but it did involve walking them down the road for about a mile, and we could do nothing but wait. Still it did prove amusing seeing the looks on the faces of oncoming drivers as numerous tons of moving beef herded around their cars.

Still not to mince my words, and burger up a good story, I'd better get steak back to the point, before someone udderly hoofs me in the face (sorry, Alex and I were coming out with these one-liners for the next 10 miles). We eventually arrived in Malpas after about 20 miles and met up with Mum and Dad for a hot chocolate and muffin (and Ibuprofen) break.

Just what the doctor ordered

Lunch was another 20 miles down the road, not far from Shrewsbury, which Alex and I made another couple of hours later. After dusting down the tiny caterpillars that seemed to be all over our clothing, we were allowed into the van for pasties and drinks. The final 20 miles would see us ride into the hills to Wentnor, not far from Church Stretton.

As rides go this one was one of the least taxing, but we did know that there would be a nasty climb with five miles to go to the campsite. Sure enough it attacked with excruciatingly steep gradients, which would rise for over a mile. I tried to keep pedaling, but the gradients became too steep to stay seated on the saddle. Normally riders would stand up and push at this point, but as I did pain raced up my ankle and I had to get off and walk the rest of the way to the top. Alex, who was ahead of me at the time hesitated with the sound of my unclipping pedals. He too was forced to stop, and as the gradient was too steep to start riding again from a standstill, he also had to walk with me to the top.

Thankfully the remainder of the ride was mostly downhill, or according to the route sheets described as 'gently' undulating, so it was a pain free ride to the camp where we found Mum and Dad sat in the sun chairs with a distinctly beer looking drink (which they claim was coca cola). We are clean, have had lunch, and are about to go to the pub which is by the entrance to the campsite, where I will no doubt sink a couple of draft pints of medicin.

Look... it's an eagle!

Chocie drink over it's time for a beer!

And sadly lacking in any pictures, Mum the head chef enjoying a glass of wine

I'm really touched by some of the support and concern that some people have shown today when they have found out about my predicament. I refuse to consider climbing off the bike until we have reached Lands End, but naturally I'm going to need all the help I can get! Thanks again, and I will look forward to riding in and seeing everyone at the end!

Cheers

Day 11 – Wentnor to Monmouth, Croeso y Cymru (by Alex)

Firstly, I would like to apologise in advance. This blog may contain swearwords, but I will keep them to an appropriate minimum.

As you may have figured out by this point, yesterday caused a bit of a seismic shift in our way of thinking. Previously, with the exception of one or two very hard days, we had been happily tapping along at an average of about 14-15 mph. Now, we are looking at 10-11 as a realistic average. This has increased substantially the time we are riding each day. This has led to a substantial increase in the time taken to finish each day.

It would be disingenuous to say that Stuart is not the one suffering the most. I cannot imagine the pain he is riding through, both physically and mentally. It puts my sore bum quite solidly in perspective (uncomfortable though it may be). Our goal remains getting to the finish, though with the added clause of getting there with Stuarts achilles tendon in as good shape as possible.

Again, apologies. This will be a slightly technical bit.

When riding, the person in front is putting in more effort than the person behind. This can be up to 30% (or more) effort, dependent on the wind and the cycling speed. Usually, riders will swap over to make sure no-one is putting in too much effort (unless they are feeling particularly evil). Now, in order to ensure Stuart does not put in too much work, I will be riding in front as much as feasible. This is not exactly helped by the fact my speedometer has decided to have a major hissy fit, so I have no idea how fast I am going, or how far it is to the next decision point on our route cards¹. I'm having to do a lot of the riding purely by feel.

I'm therefore riding on the flat and the downhills on the front, trying to cut through the wind for Stuart. On the hills, it's a lot more tricky, since Stuart is essentially cycling with one leg, something I cannot easily replicate. I'm trying to match his pace up the hills, but it is difficult. Hills are very much a personal world of pain. As much as anything, I'm trying to match speed to ease his mental pain on the hills.

Anyway, enough of the maudlin stuff. What happened today?

The site last night in Wentnor was great, with a good pub a short walk away². We set off after a leisurely breakfast for a 70 mile ride to Monmouth, through Shropshire and Herefordhsire into Monmouthsire – we finish the day in Wales for the first time!

Chief mechanic readies the bikes

And off go the riders

The day started with a few nasty climbs³, but they gradually lessened as we worked our way south. It's unusual seeing flat land in England – people are probably going to hate me for saying this but generally Scotland is much better at making roads flat. They avoid hills!

At about 27 miles – hot chocolate and some more of the rapidly disappearing Dundee cake lovingly supplied by Emma. As we sit in the campervan, the first spits of rain start tracing their way across the windscreen. Stuart and I are taking no chances, so we don waterproofs. This turns out to be an extremely good call.

Arriving at the first rest break

Lunch is at 50 miles. At this point, the rain is heavier and hasn't stopped. Mum puts towels and plastic sheets on the chairs in the campervan to stop us plastering mud around the place – emminently sensible, given the state of us. There are muddy puddles all over the place and the rivers and streams are very swollen. It's nice to be back in England. After a cup of soup and a sandwich, it's time to get back out into the cold and the wet. Our only consolation is that it is mercifully calm on the wind front, though we are fully expecting that to change over the coming days.

We leave, with seventeen miles to go until we get to the final tea stop. It starts to rain harder and the hills begin to get steeper. One of our few joys is spotting the odd town names and changing them to suit our mood⁴. It hasn't stopped raining when we arrive for tea, so once again the towels are placed as Stuart and I make our soggy arrival for a much needed cup of tea and an Eccles cake⁵.

Final break stop... two decidedly soggy riders

And off they go into the rain

We leave to face the last 16 miles in the rain. At some point, we cross over into Wales, our only welcome being a few soggy sheep sheltering under whatever trees they can find. The rain gets steadily harder and the hills steeper and bigger – at some points we are essentially cycling up streams on our cycle into Wales. A flavour of our conversation can be summed up thus:

'They call this character building weather.'

'I've got enough fucking character, thanks.'

'Soul destroying weather is more like it.'

The weird thing is, we've been pretty lucky. In eleven days riding, this is by a long margin the wettest day – and only one of three that we have got truly wet so far.

By the time we squelch up to the campsite it's half five. Mum and Dad kindly give us an energy recovery drink, then we stagger to the showers. We're so wet I don't even bother stripping off my clothes⁶ before getting in the showers. Soon though, we are clean, warm and changed, and more improtantly we have a beer.

Croeso y Cymru⁷, indeed!

1 Leaving us with the interesting situation. I have the trip notes in a holder on my handlebars, but no speedo. Stuart has a speedo, but no trip notes handy and a buggered ankle. Truly, it's the blind leading the crippled – or is that the crippled leading the blind?

2 Not necessarily the best for getting an uninterrupted nights sleep, but I'm getting used to it.

3 At this point, any gradient above 0% for longer than 3 metres (or until the momentum runs out) is being viewed as a bastard.

4 Brampton Bryan started a litany of Family Guy quotes – either that or was known as Brampton Bryan Blessed! Weobley Marsh became Wobbly Marsh. Kings Pyon – was that Kings Peon or Kings Pyon! As for Willey – where do you come from? I come from . . . puerile, but necessary!

5 We were meant to meet with Graham from JM, but sadly he missed us in the rain and had to leave for another appointment. Not the best weather to meet two cyclists, but we are nonetheless gutted.

6 Well, I at least took my shoes off.

7 To add to that, the signal monster that seems to hover around Wales meant that my phone had no signal for most of the day.

Day 12 - Monmouth to Woolavington, Stuart fights on still... (by Stuart)

Today marked a fairly huge milestone in my books, as it would see us depart Wales and cross back into England again via the M48 crossing over the old Severn Bridge. After yesterdays heavy rain we could have done with a good day today, but alas as we sat eating our breakfast the rain began to hammer down again on the roof of the van. That and the ache that persists in my ankle did little to raise my spirits.

A somewhat subdued depart

We set off earlier this morning as there were concerns with winds speeds picking up in the afternoon on the Severn Bridge. Leaving the campsite we turned left, and rode into the centre of Monmouth, where we promptly got lost. After a bit of head-scratching we managed to find our way through and followed the main road down in to Chepstow.

This road followed the Wye Valley, and we hoped, looking at the map that it would be level all the way to Chepstow. Alas this was not to be, as after Tintern the road began to climb up higher and higher up the valley side which left Alex and I fuming (you see the roads in Scotland follow the rivers and lochs by the contour, not in England and Wales it seems). We eventually dropped down in to Chepstow and were faced with another hill, the climb up onto the Severn Bridge!

Riding across the bridge, vans eye view

Riding in for our first break... in England

Not many people I'm sure can say that they get the opportunity to cycle along the edge of a huge suspension bridge. Still the riding along the bridge wasn't too difficult as the wind was coming from the side, and not as fierce as we thought (as two days ago we were forecast gale-force winds). After a hot-chocie and cake break in Olveston (very good bakery) on the other side of the bridge, after setting off Alex and I promptly got lost again, and somewhat frustratingly threw in a pointlessly big climb that was not on our planned route. 

We then had to traverse the Industrial edges of Bristol before enduring a windy slog over the Avonmouth Bridge. We eventually met up with Dad near Chew Stoke, where we would be riding with our second guest rider of the trip, Edmund, a close friend of the family. Somewhat bravely he had decided to join us just before we rode up into the Mendip Hills, and also somewhat depressingly into the rain. 

After several soggy miles of descent, I'm pleased to say that the only time I had to stop was for Edmund to rescue his errant Mars Bars that fell out of his pocket! After a lunch stop in the van we set off to enjoy the long descent through Cheddar Gorge. As the roads were wet, Alex and I had to go carefully, but we still managed to knock up speeds of over 30mph, and had fun flicking across the road from bend to bend. Edmund on the other hand was having a lot less fun than we were, and rapidly disappeared off the back.

About to descend the gorge!

The trio arrive together

And thanks to Edmund for joining us today!

The final 10 miles would see us ride across the Somerset levels, which we thought after Cheddar there would be no more hills, but somewhat cruelly there were still a few steep little climbs to do before we got to the campsite. We are now just about to go to the pub for food and some liquid medicine. I've had a massage and my ankle looked to, but the tendon has become quite inflamed so we may have to do some route altering over the next few days to try and cut out as many steep hills as possible, but this will inevitably result in us riding on busier roads. I'm not quite at the point of climbing of the bike, but I'm not far away so I'm taking each day as it comes. 

Here's hoping Alex gets to ride in to Lands End with his brother alongside!

Cheers

P.S. Sorry it's not the best of articles, but I've understandably been feeling a bit down the last few days!