Reality bites

It's very hard to estimate just how long the Coast to Coast is going to take... There are a number of reasons for this. My reccy missions have been of varying lengths and differing paces; some were short hard blasts and some were all day sessions. The weather conditions have also changed; the descent off Tan Hill was hard and fast in a couple of inches of snow on one winter's day but the far flatter fields out from Fremington were soft, draggy and more energy sapping on another.

I have also been unsure about the North York Moors section; Osmotherley to Robin Hood's Bay. Surely, I thought, the hardest part was the Lakes and the Moors would be the final straight; the end in sight. Well; now I know better; it's going to take a deep breath and some real deep digging to pull through the home straight...

More on that in a while. This particular weekend of reccy was to be spent with Partner in Crime Paul Errington and was billed as two days plugging two huge gaps; Saturday was Shap to Tan Hill and Sunday was the Moors.... I manage to convince Paul this was relatively straightforward. Paul blindly follows me on my missions. Paul might not do this again...

Saturday was a fairly uninteresting ride technically. Quite a lot of road with some pleasant green lanes but quite a lot of wind and cool showers so fairly hard work at times. The climb up the back of Tan Hill is pretty consistent though.... and long. And then it turns to muddy farm track. Which then turns to just mud. And marsh. And becomes completely unrideable. Here is one bit that will keep me on toes come May.... When the track finally run out you end up on a huge soggy plateau criss-crossed with hidden streams, many covered by long grass... which hides slippery angular rocks. Nice. Thing is, the bridleway points straight across this martian landscape, (Marsh-en, get it?) and then turns left up a huge rock strewn bank onto a road. This was hard to read and do in broad day light. What will it be like in the middle of the night!!!?? (I've woken up in the middle of the night since this reccy staring at the ceiling pondering this problem....)

Anyways; it'll come good I'm sure.

Sunday dawned an altogether better day. It was warm and sunny but still a bit windy. We set off from above Osmotherley, both looking forward to a day of Moors singletrack. Didn't quite work out like that. All the climbs were real slogs. Some were uber steep. Some were uber long. Many were unrideable. Almost all gave no return. A mile of steep as you like woodland singletrack... Must be good over the top? Er, no; wide moors access tracks. Technical trialsy climb out of Scugdale... surely a sweeping vista of bouldery bridleway will greet us? Wrong a again; a road. Going up. This was the general pattern for the day. Even the down hills were draggy, slow and hard pedalling. It became apparent that our average speed was wanting... Then, the highlight of the day; Cut Road Path. Gritstone boulder embedded in dry peat. My favourite! Superb technical riding and with a stunning backdrop of the steep sided valley below. Where is everyone?? You don't get this at a trail centre! Wonder how I'll deal with this level of technicality after 20 ish hours in the saddle? Like a drunk pinball probably.

Besides this highlight we were both feeling pretty worn down by the relentlessly tough but generally unrewarding riding. Then the real fun started! We dropped down off the moors and into a sequence of brutal road climbs. But I got my mojo going and steamed up a 33% hill chatting away to an increasingly quiet Paul. My how he laughed when I told him we had taken the wrong turning and I thought we should go back down! Well, actually he didn't think it was funny at all... Thing is, he really was not laughing and it was only my rose coloured glasses, (well, light enhancing anyway) that prevented me from realising that I was seconds away from an emergency forced sprint... I just told him he would be at work on Monday wishing he was on the hill again...

Anyway, the clock was running down... and we still had a loooong way to go. So we cut it a bit short dipping out right at the bottom of another 33% climb that I had to crane my neck to stare up. Kind of made the Kenda climb on the last lap of Mayhem look flat....

Oh dear.

A few more road miles and we shot down the road to Robin Hood's Bay. Not the most inspirational day's riding. Pretty grim actually. And quite sobering.

Not to worry; I will uphold my blindly optimistic outlook on this ridiculous endeavour and say that on a good day, with good winds, good luck, and an attack of super human qualities IT IS possible in 24 hours...

I was feeling pretty good after 8...