Old County Tops 2023

 It's the one event that gets booked into the diary a year ahead. The Old County Tops. 38 miles of fun with a bit over 3000m of ascent. My race calendar doesn't exactly revolve around this race... my race calendar now is this race. This was the 7th year of running it for me, and the 4th with Chris. We won the V80 award last year, so this year was going to be an interesting one. We knew it wasn't going to be easy, mainly because Chris has just come off the back of a 2:42 marathon. Now this might appear to be a good thing, but he ran it a fornight ago, and for the past 5 months he has just been road training. His aerobic capacity is huge, but his time in the hills has been rather curtailed. Alongside this, his 80k+ weeks have been matched in equal measure by my 20- 30k weeks- with no real consistency. I'm not putting excuses in early, just setting the scene.... I haven't run this distance since this time last year, and haven't raced since last June, so let's just say we were going into this somewhat undercooked in terms of fell fitness. 

Beautiful day. It's about get get ugly(er)

As ever, it was a day long smash and grab. Up at 4am for coffee and breakfast before heading across to pick Chris up, and the 2 hour drive to Langdale. We hit the carpark at the optimal time, and zoomed through kitcheck, finishing up just as the hordes of other racers descended on the tents. 

Despite having had breakfast at 4, I had another bite to eat, but wasn't feeling all that awake, which was a bit strange. We kitted up, going with t-shirts over long sleeves- it looked like being a hot and sunny day, and slathered on the sunscreen. A bit of a jog down the road and back to loosen up the legs, check to make sure we had everything and got back to the start with about 5 mins before it all kicked off. 

It's ALWAYS the same. I get to a race and look around and think... wow, all these people look really serious and fit. How are we going to measure up against this lot? We're total amateurs in comparison. Still, Chris Lloyd gave his starting speech and set us all off at 8 on the dot, and we mooched off down the bridleway in 3rd. 

It's always nice to start with a bit of a flat jog, and the OCT is no exception. There were no insanely fast guys here today, so the opening few kilometres weren't at a ridiculously frantic pace as they have been the last few times, however we still found ourselves near the front. The issue is that when you remember the OCT, it's always the big names- the Helvellyns, the Scafell Pikes etc. that you remember... but you have to get over Silver Howe first, and the first 5k can be a bit of a handful, to be honest. You still feel good as it is the very beginning, but you can't go out too hard. 

Over and down into Grasmere, and up the road to the turning that takes you up the grand valley to the col below Fairfield and I started to feel a bit odd. Nothing specific, but more of a general overall systemic fatigue. My heartrate was bouncing around at the high 160's which is not a good thing. That is where I should be for a race lasting maybe an hour or 2, not one that is going to be at least 7.5 hours long. 

Chris and I were communicating well, making sure that we were generally ok with the tempo, and being very aware of just how hot it was. We didn't want to be one of the teams that blew up later in the day from overdoing it too early, so we backed off a little. Teams overtook us, but still my Heartrate remained far too high. Up over towards the climb up Dollywagon, I was starting to struggle- remembering back to the 2014 OCT with Alastair where he was unprepared for it, and he was struggling at that point. I remember remarking to Chris that I felt very much like a statue- not a pigeon and today was not going well. And this is before we even got to the first real summit. 

The great thing about this race is that even if you ARE having an awful time of it, it is still such an amazing day out in the Lakes. You see so much of the place- and today was no different. The views were spectacular, the air was clear- a genuinely astonishing day in a beautiful place. 

Onward and upward, and still an elevated HR. Not great. Certainly not great when coupled with feeling systemically off. Chris remarked about how in cycling, people have days when the legs are "good" and days when they are bad- yet in running, we're almost expected to have good legs *all* the time. Today was not a good day at all. Food wasn't really going well- it was too hot for Clif bars- they turned to grit in your mouth, but I battled on with them. I had 5 gels and a bag of Tangfastics... if I was to get through the day they would need to be used very strategically indeed. 

We slowed the pace a fair bit to the top of Helvellyn, hitting the checkpoint in our slowest time as a pair- about 1:50. The descent wasn't bad, but it wasn't great and I was feeling pretty ropey by the time we hit the feed station at the bottom. The day wasn't just hot- it was going to be *really* hot, and so along with how I was feeling, the idea of a fast time kind of evaporated. We had a conversation about how the day was panning out and decided to settle into just ticking along, trying not to be the ones who ended up quitting due to over exertion or heat exhaustion rather than worrying about position or time. No more attempts at anything other than walking or "ultra shuffling". Which was good news as I was still feeling pretty bad. To be honest, there were a few times on the previous ascent where I just felt like sitting down and stopping, but realised that wasn't going to help things at all. However, the next bit was Wythburne. 

Even on the best of days, the ascent of Wythburne is a long slog. On a good year we manage to run some of it. This was not a good year and walking was, at times, almost too much for me. Chris was being his normal jovial and encouraging self, and to my credit, not once did I try to throw him in the river. A gel was taken, and the water bottles were filled a number of times. It was turning into one of those days where you HAVE to drink a lot, but there is a careful balancing act- because if you drink too much, then you end up with stomach cramps and stitch. With the ascent going on in a deep and hot valley, spreading into a bog there were, again numerous times where just sitting down seemed like a good option. Thoughts of stopping at Angle Tarn went through my head- but then... I'd recced a pretty decent line off Scafell Pike. If I quit at the Tarn I wouldn't have a chance to use the knowledge....

Onward and upward through the bog, along with another team who we were playing tag with. The next nearest teams ahead of us were so far away as to be out of sight. The traverse around and down to Stakes Pass went well, and we ended up getting to Angle Tarn ever so slightly ahead of the other team. Heads dunked in water for refreshment, a glass of water, and onward... except that team had now overtaken us and we were the "chasers". I use inverted commas here as I was not in any way, shape or form chasing anyone. However, the pace over to Angle Tarn had been such that my Heart Rate had finally dropped to something like normal- 140 or so- for this kind of effort, and I was finally beginning to feel something approaching normal- for 15 miles and 1500m of ascent. 

The slog up Esk Hause and onto Scafell was nothing if not purgatory. Watching the other team ahead of us slowly pull away, knowing that if I went any faster, everything would fall apart- so keeping the same pace was simply the best way. There were a simply incredible amount of people on the mountain, and we were dodging and shifting around hordes of people up to the top. Running out of water- we hit the summit- but knowing that at the bottom of the mountain lay a river, and over the hill from there, another- where we could dunk and drink, so we turned and headed for the direct line. To be honest, the moment I had been waiting for. 

I came up in March and recced this line about 6 times in an afternoon, and hoped that I would remember the route and sequence to get off. It was a surprise to see one of the teams that had been so far ahead as to be out of sight still very high on the mountain. I led Chris down, and we nailed the line to pretty much perfection (well... it was slightly out, but missing the entrance to the scree path by 4 metres ended up being neither here nor there), and by the time we had dropped down the mountain we were ahead of 3 teams, 2 of which we hadn't seen in miles. 

Although we were ahead, there was still a long long way to go, and the maximum speed I was moving at was "ultra shuffle". Normally, the next section would be quite fun and runnable, but not today. Still feeling iffy- but slowly getting better, we took stock and figured that it was going to get hotter still, and going any faster than I was currently coping with would have been silly. More food in, heads dunked in rivers, we got on with the slow progress. The 2 teams directly behind us caught and overtook us pretty quickly- and made good on their speed. Distances grew, but there was never going to be a chase. Up and over the next hill, through the bog (with a rather unexpectedly deep bit that I discovered at some speed), and down to Cockley Beck. The checkpoint of legend, tea and egg butties. 

We came into Cockley Beck, me feeling fairly ruined, 2 gels left and with the closest 2 teams having come, been and gone. We were in 7th place. We've been in that position before. The top 6 get a mug to take home, 7th doesn't. Damn. 

Cheese and Pickle sarnies and a gulp of squash, I moaned a bit to the Achilli Ratti crew that I knew from the club before Chris hit me with a metaphorical wet fish and told me to get on with it- and so we started the climb up Grey Friars. 

Grey Friars- like most of this race- on it's own is a pretty decent climb. When you've already got 2500m of up and down in your legs, it takes on a completely different feel. It is a monster. You can see people ahead of you, but they never get any closer. The air is still, the heat is baking- and you're in this effective hot house putting one foot in front of the other, feeling horrendous, for about half an hour. But it feels like a week. 

Ahead of us, one of the guys from the team closest to us starts walking like John Wayne. He's been hit with cramp pretty hard. He stops and stretches, and carrys on. Although our pace never slows, again, it feels like we make no progress on catching them at all. On and on we climb. I take a gel- one left. I've had 5 already and have no idea how this is all going to affect me and my guts- but right now it's the only thing (apart from the severely diminished stock of Tangfastics) that is keeping me going.

Finally, after about a week of climbing we get to the top, get onto the trod and resume the "ultra shuffle". Again, this should be a run, but- no. That isn't happening today. But the guys ahead of us are walking, and we slowly catch them- cramp having overtaken them significantly. Into 6th. No way. 

A few hours ago I was thinking of sitting down and crying and then walking off the hill feeling utterly horrendous. Now, I'm feeling a little less horrendous- and we're in 6th? No way. Chris and I chat about maintaining the effort, just tapping out the pace as we have been since Angle Tarn. No words are spoken about our place in the race- only casual conversation, and check ins to make sure each is ok. 

(an interesting aside here- a lot of the teams on OCT do this- you hear a lot of "you ok?" "yeah".... but very rarely do you hear someone reply "no". Unless, of course, you are Chris who basically spent the entire day listening to my very honest replies to his well meaning "how are you doing?" enquiries. Sorry Chris). 

We're on the out and back now- and a couple of the leading teams come past us on their way to getting off the Old Man. We plod on, measuring our output. Techincally, it isn't far to go now- not in the grand scheme of things, but if you forget to eat, or think that it's all over then things can still come crashing down. Across the tops to the Old Man there is no shade and no water source, so we dilligently just kept on going, trying to keep the other team behind us. To the peak, a gulp of water, and then turn around and head back. To my surprise the other team had been moving well, despite the cramp... crikey. I know we can't move much faster than that which we have been... but we're hanging onto 6th by our teeth. I resolved to just not look back. If I can imagine someone just behind us, it'll push me faster than anything that might be real. 

Top of Coniston

Finally, I'm feeling semi-ok. The main ascents are all out of the way, it's only really descents now... but EVERYTHING hurts. We can't go too fast, or risk the same cramping fate as those behind... I'd already felt- but staved off calf and hamstring cramp in the last mile. My abs were hurting, quads were killing, and nothing really wanted to go. Grit teeth and carry on- at least we're not going up Helvellyn again.

Direct north and then down the line and off the end to 3 shires stone. A slight miscalculation took us off the line at the beginning of the descent, losing us potentially precious seconds. The downhill was punishing, and we were looking forward to the water at that final checkpoint. Still not looking behind, all I could envisage was the other team bearing down on us- and so it was head down, and get down. 

3 shires stone- water! And the knowledge that we really weren't that far from home, the final gel was taken and the hot run down wrynose pass was commenced. Far in the distance we could see the team ahead of us- certainly not going to try to catch them- again, all about the measured effort. None of the fast crazy endings here. Down and across the odd patch of land that takes you to Blea tarn and the blessed shady bit around the western side, and then back to the scorched landscape to the final road crossing. No-one behind us? Chris doesn't think there is- and we take the descent to the final path nice and steady. 

Along the path down through Langdale, and we appreciate the fact that we are finally here.... just about ready to be finished, thankyou very much. The final 800 metres, and my energy levels are rapidly dipping. I'm out of gels, I'm out of haribo and the bonk is on the doorstep. Thankfully, this is it, we have no further to run and I hold on to the end. 

8:15. Our slowest OCT to date- and, no doubt, the hardest. We came through a lot of really tough places, managed the pace incredibly well, got the effort right and came through. There were genuinely a few times where I was close to throwing up, sitting down and generally calling it a day (though I don;t think Chris would have accepted anything less than sunstroke/heat exhaustion/ broken leg as a valid "we're not finishing  today" excuse. 

No, we didn't retain the V80 trophy- but were only about 10 mins off- And flipping heck. We still got a mug. Unbelievable. 

So I drove us back down south, and as Chris gets out of the van to get his car, he turns to me and says "same again next year?". 

"yup". 

Post script:

Lynne said this morning "I have a confession". Oh yes? "The coffee you made yesterday- it was the first scoop from the new pot wasn't it?" Yes. 

That's decaf. 

Ah. 

Cycling Hadrians Wall 2023

 You'll note that this is not a "coast to coast" cycle ride- although it is very possible, indeed it is an encouraged route to do. Initally our plan was to do such a thing, but logistics, trains, times and other bits and pieces meant that it was easier to plan and do if we stuck to "hadrians wall". For a first foray into cycle touring, simple was certainly preferable. I'm a great believer in making things simple if it means you are more likely to do it. 

Prep for leaving

Initially we had the idea of driving to Whitehaven, dropping the van there, cycling to Newcastle and beyond and then working logisitics to get back to the van. All well and good, but there was also the possibility of doing the route by train- low carbon. We looked into trains and taking bikes and various options and it appeared that the easiest thing to do was attempt to book the train online, but then get on the phone and talk to someone at the train company AS you are booking the train to make sure there is a bike space, and that it is allocated to you. A bit of a phone/computer/creditcard/calendar juggling match ensued, but it got sorted. 

Waiting at Picadilly

We figured on a couple of 80km days and a shorter day at the end- the long days would be Lynnes longest in the saddle, but effectively we'd have all day to do the distance, so it shouldn't be too much trouble. The hotels would be Travelodge, because you are allowed to store your bikes in your room (apparently Premier Inn also allow this). 

Now, despite us having "all day" to do 80km, the best train with the least amount of changes at the lowest price (a princely £13.20 each) to Whitehaven left Glossop at just past 9am- which got us to our destination at 1340... so not exactly a full day in which to do 80km to Carlisle. Added to which, there was a lovely fresh breeze from the North East, pretty much a direct headwind for the majority of the ride. We genuinely had no idea how long it might take us to do the distance- we both had a pannier- which was "relatively" light (I still brought a massive D-lock, partly as I'm paranoid), but we were full of beans as we'd just been sitting on a train for the past few hours. 

The wait in Carlisle was odd as we knew we'd be back there later that day. The breeze through the station was brisk, and we had a hot chocolate to warm up. Soon enough the train came to take us down to the coast, and we rattled our way down toward Whitehaven. To be honest, we couldn't be bothered going all the way there and got off a couple of stops early at Maryport to save on some flat coastal riding. The distance all told on that first day afternoon would be about 80k instead of 100. 

Off the train, onto the bikes, switch on the nav computers and off we cycled. 

Finally! We get to set off.

We went prettt much straight to the coast and then struck north along what was initially a road and then turned into a cycleway. For the rest of the afternoon, the roads were generally pretty quiet when we were on them- and occasionally we were treated to cycleways as well, but not very often. Our landmarks were fairly clear- to the north were the hills (and rain) denoting Galloway), and to the East were the hills (and rain) of the Lake District. The route that we were taking was somewhat wandering and we were amused (alarmed?) to see these land marks wavering wildly from one side of us to the other as we wended our way around the flatlands of North Cumbria. 

As mentioned, the headwind was fairly brisk and I spent a lot of the afternoon being a windbreak, but we kept up a fairly steady and respectable speed all the way through towards Carlisle. Several layers were needed as flat riding through windswept Cumbria is apparently pretty chilly- so the warmest layers were deployed as were fully warm gloves. All good fun, and Lynnes longest day in the saddle to date.

We got into Carlisle in good time, well before darkness, and had an interesting time picking our way through roadworks and dual carriage ways to get to the Travelodge in the centre. We didn't take long to have a shower and get changed once there, keen as we were to find somewhere to eat. 

Now it appears that monday is not necessarily a happening place to be on a Monday evening. Also, I know some people have a problem with Pineapple on pizza, but I didn't realise that the centre of this weirdness is Carlisle where it seems to be against their belief system or something. Anyhow, we eventually found a place that actually did something resembling a Hawaiian pizza, picked up a load of carbs to eat and scuttled back to the hotel to refuel and sleep. Thankfully the rain that had threatened from both Galloway and Cumbria had failed to materialise and so we were blessedly dry from the days exertions and didn't need to dry any clothes out overnight. 

Not a lot of room for luggage- yet still managed to make a mess

 

Day 2 was all about the hills. The true bit of Hadrians Wall... which we hadn't actually seen anything of thus far. Carlisle to Hexham promised to be a lovely day- again about 80k, but with 1300m of ascent... Lynnes longest and hilliest day on the bike thus far. (We don't like to do things by halves). It was fairly chilly as we set out, so again, full warm layers were used at the beginning. Getting out of town was only slightly problematic what with one way streets and cobblestones, but once away from the busy streets things calmed down somewhat and the journey fully began. Food stops were frequent in order to keep up energy, and the thermal bidon full of coffee proved itself to be a very useful item which I would highly recommend to any bike tourer.

We made our way through the back lanes over to Brampton where a stop in an independent coffee shop was conducted- espresso and a MASSIVE scone were very much on the menu there. The sun had come out and so layers were shed, winter gloves went away and we carried onward, sunning ourselves in the Spring sunshine. 

From Brampton onward there are a plethora of Roman heritage sites and areas of interest where we stopped to admire various items of archaeology in varying stages of decay/being dug up.

There was so much to see I actually forgot that we went to see this lovely Abbey- that was made from suspicously good stone... (and no wall to be seen anywhere near...)

 If you're a member of English Heritage you'll probably make your entire year subscription back just from visiting the sites on this cycleway... it would have cost us about £70 to go in everything along the way. As it was we satisfied our Roman hankerings by standing around old bits of wall adjacent to the road.  

Actual wall!

More wall....

As a friend once pointed out- when you're near the wall in some places, you can't see it at all... yet all the old houses and castles and churches see to be made of very good, sturdy stone. Which seems like a bit of a coincidence.....

As we went across towards Hexham the sun continued to shine, we had lunch in a very nice place in Greenhead, ended up in a pottery in Bardon Mill, stopped off at the Sill for a bit of a poke around, mooched past an excellent roman camp (Vindalandria), which I'd certainly like to go back to visit properly at some point- (and it has a vicious climb out of it as well..... as did Greenhead, come to think of it). 

The final turn into Hexham was a little of a come down after such a delightful day on quiet roads and cycle paths, but all good things must come to an end. An evening meal in a pub, and a quick noting down of the bakery for the morning were the main points of the evening before heading back to the Travelodge for a well deserved rest. 

(There were numerous other places which looked like a true delight to stay in. We passed some dinky little places, full of character and charm, but had already got our reservations in the hotels sorted). 

Day 3

You have to start the day well, and so we went back up the hill into Hexham to get a loaf and a couple of Chocolate Babka Buns from the Bakery (the Grateful Bread). In hindsight we should have bought a couple of the buns each- they were simply amazing). 

Babka buns. Watch out for these on Toasted to Destruction.

Getting out of Hexham was a bit of a chore- what with rush hour traffic and A-roads, though the tarmac was a pleasure to ride on. After a not insignificant amount of time, we were getting a little tired of all the cars, and thought a change would be nice- and the route diverted off to the right on a B-road. Finally. 

For the next few kilometres delightful country roads were the order of the day, but soon enough they gave way to the slowly burgeoning outskirts of Newcastle, our final destination. The final few miles were along the river Tyne, and it seemed that all of a sudden we were finishing, heading up the road from the Tyne bridge to the station. After a couple of 80km days it was a surprise to be finishing after only 35 or so. 

Lookee at that. It's a bridge.

Unfortunately we couldn't change our train tickets, so it was a long, chilly wait for the train back to Staylybridge (which was a battle to get the bikes into the bike storage), before the final ride back over the hill. 

Well deserved Waffles.

So. What can I say? It was a really good few days out. We weren't actually away from the house for longer than about 60 hours or so, had an amazing time, clocked up 2 of Lynnes longest days on the bike, had a load of laughs, saw a chicken with fantastic trousers, lots of wall, and ate a truck load of food.

Chicken with fantastic trousers...

Before this I'd never been on a train with a bike, never used a pannier for touring, never stayed in a hotel where we were allowed to take bikes in, and had certainly never done a tour which started and finished on a train. All new adventures. I suspect we'll be doing more.