The PCR 2021 full route had a huge amount of elevation at 27,507m over 1995km derived mainly from rather short sharp 12-20%+ type gradients rather than long steady alpine style gradients. Certainly not the type of terrain that plays to my physical strengths.
As I write this the the 7th edition on the Transcontinental Race is underway but, sadly, I'm not riding in it.
I ride ultra endurance cycle events because I enjoy it, plain and simple. However, it is also clear that others enjoy reading about my adventures as well as following the races online as “dot watchers”. The supportive messages I receive are very welcome but its great to be able to offer people other ways to lend their support such as donating to a charity.
I don’t claim to be doing any of the rides “for charity” but if I can fundraise for a charity as part of my riding then that really is so much the better!
This year I’m fundraising for The Blue Marine Foundation a UK based charity dedicated to creating marine reserves and establishing sustainable models of fishing.
THE PROBLEM – 90% of wild fish stocks are over-fished or fully exploited. Without fish, the oceans cannot absorb CO2, millions of livelihoods are lost and food security is threatened.
Seafood happens to be my favourite food, whilst the oceans have indirectly supported my entire working life since I was 21. Windsurfing and water sports instructor, wind and surf board builder, yacht painting contractor, yacht painting consultant.
I’ve lived on the coast in various countries continuously since I left London in 1980. Boats, windsurfing, surfing, kite-surfing, paddle boarding, ocean sports of every description have inspired my leisure time. The yachting industry has provided for me and my family for decades. In fact the cycling I now do is the least ocean centric thing I’ve ever embarked upon!
THE SOLUTION – By designating large parts of the world’s oceans as marine reserves and banning industrial fishing, fish stocks are able to recover and ecosystems thrive.
I delight in the idea of giving back to the seas and oceans for all the support, joy and nourishment they have provided to me.
Creating marine reserves and developing sustainable models of fishing seems, to me, an obvious thing to do but actually making this a reality is no easy task when dealing with the many and varied commercial interests involved.
The Blue Marine Foundation have demonstrated their ability to truly affect positive change and have a fascinating portfolio of projects.
I hope you’ll join me and support their efforts further. DONATE
Welcome to the second and final chapter recounting my 2018 TAWR journey.
In part 1 I covered my exhilarating dash to make the Kilrush ferry on day four, the Sunday evening. Arriving there in a credible 9th position.
If everything had carried on to plan then I only had a little over 2 days to go. Everything did not carry on to plan.
There was something special about that ferry ride for me. When you enter one of these events you become part of a tribe, a unique band of brothers and sisters, with an unspoken kind of camaraderie. There were just four of us who had made that 19:00 ferry. These were my comrades. Pawel Pulawski, grinning, but suffering with saddle sores. Matt Ryan, looking far to fresh but also dealing with a grumbling achilles. David Tomlinson, looking absolutely shattered, and myself, suffering with saddle sores and looking rather old I imagine.
We spent the short crossing huddled in a sheltered rest area comparing tales, struggles and plans. Pawel and Matt were going to ride on at the other side, David and I were heading straight to whatever B&B’s we could find. Then that was it, a brief spell of companionship ended and we went our merry ways.
I found a very closed looking B&B just minutes away from the ferry and checked in. The helpful landlady directed me to a secure place for my bike and I duly unloaded and went to the Spar next door to re-stock on fuel. I think I also found a chippy but I don’t recall clearly.
Oh how good the shower felt but my backside was not happy at all. Two, raw, thumb sized patches of skin that mirrored my saddle throbbed steadily. The fresh air was instantly soothing.
In TAW 2017 I had suffered with minor saddle sores, no great drama. I’d say about equal to how my backside was on the end of day 3 of this TAW18. In 2017 my shorts were getting a lot of rain rinsing and also had a thinner chamois pad. This year I’d invested in a high end set of bibs with a thick “endurance” pad. 2018 had, so far, been relentlessly hot and sweaty with no rain rinsing and I’d relied almost solely on wet wipes and chamois cream for cleanliness. Poor plan!
On reflection I think the thicker pad just makes for more movement or rub against the skin and holds moisture. I’ve heard others say a thick pad and/or more cushioned saddle causes more problems and this certainly reflects my experience. I’ll keep experimenting but I think two pairs of shorts, regular rinsing and a thinner or even no pad could be the way forward.
03:18 and I push start on my Wahoo Elemnt….. OUUUCH! Oh how my bum hurts, I can barely cope with any saddle pressure. Time to get macho! If I can just stay fully planted in the saddle then I know the pain will ease or I shall become accustomed to it at least. Easier said than done.
This was such a struggle and it seemed I was constantly stopping to apply cream. “Ummm, this is becoming a real issue…” After repeated wet wipe and cream sessions I finally had the bright idea of placing wet wipes in my shorts! It was as if I’d found the holy grail! Pain drastically reduced, I could ride in the saddle. Still uncomfortably, but I could do it. Eureka!
The tracker reveals that I rode past the sleeping forms of Matt and David just before they got underway. Off to Dingle we shall go!
Again my memory is vague and I recall little other than a painful backside and increasingly numb, tingly, fingers. It must have been early to mid afternoon when I first noticed my neck feeling weak.
Oh no! This was at more or less the exact same point that it had given out last year. I knew the symptoms, could read the warnings and see into the future…ease the strain on your neck or it’ll be a repeat of last year and ride over.
T bars were duly banned and I rode as sit up and beg as I could manage. This just put more pressure on my sore backside! Doh²!
David Tomlinson reeled me in at the Gap Of Dunloe. He looked in far better shape than he had at the ferry and after riding together awhile he finally took off into the distance. Leaving me tootling along in my neck easing position.
Not long after Matt arrived and abused me for setting away too early after the ferry. 🤣 Matt and I had some laughs on this ride. He’s a very good natured chap really.
We made it to Sneem moments before the general stores closed.
Matt duly charmed the ladies therein to make us instant coffees as the regular coffee machine was switched off. He later went on to tell me off for not saying please over something… it was quite comical, the banter we had going.
Sadly though, I knew my race with Matt was done along with any chance of a top ten placing. I simply had to make a long stop to rest my neck or face a repeat of 2017 and be forced to scratch from the race. I wished him well and away he rode to finish his adventure.
Resting was an easy decision as I feel strongly about staying safe and responsible on these events, on public roads. In 2017 I’d ridden quite some distance with the back of my helmet cable tied to my jacket as a way of stopping my head falling forward. Don’t do things like this people; no contraptions, no neck braces. If you cannot hold your head up and look readily in all directions then you’ve no business riding a bike on a public road.
It was near 22:00 when I knocked on the door of a nearby B&B. The landlady eventually answered in her nightgown and looking confused, grudgingly, showed me to a room.
“Did I want breakfast?” Maybe (I hoped to sleep long past breakfast)
“How long did I want to stay?” Not sure
She frowned; clearly not used to such vague, indecisive, guests.
Needless to say I didn’t manage to sleep past breakfast. Yes I was tired but I was also in the middle of a race and feeling a little hyper and raring to go. My idea was for a 24 hour stop with lots of good food, yoga and rest. Still, it was a struggle to stay put.
I saw the very helpful village pharmacist and got some antibiotic, steroidal, cream for my saddle sores and some more wet wipes. I re-charged my power bank and devices, hung my washed clothes out to dry and tried to get more sleep. I exchanged a couple of messages with an unlucky Karen Tostee who was stranded a little way up the road waiting for a mechanic to sort out her jammed, broken gear cable.
I then had another go at sleep. Fail
I pressed start on my Wahoo at 13:17 meaning that I’d had about 16 hours rest. It was time to complete the Ring Of Kerry, one of the very finest parts of the route, achingly beautiful and great riding.
Things were feeling really tough now, my sores were sore, my hands were numb and though my neck was holding steady I felt as if I was riding with the brakes on. I missed the fresh form I’d had earlier in the race.
Molls Gap arrived and I enlisted the support of a animal spirit guide! The late collie dog, Molly, that had been the very best of companions to a good friend of mine. Molly would have totally owned Molls Gap, she wasn’t one for sharing with other dogs!
I pictured Molly trotting along with me, shedded a tear or two but drew on her indomitable spirit to inspire and balance my spirits. Thanks Molly.
Awhile later a congenial Alex Hill turned up and we rode much of the rest of Molls Gap chatting together.
I settled in for another night shift and rode on through until 05:00 and a little past Cluin Allihies. Strangely I just don’t recall my bivi spot, the tracker simply shows me in a field.
Away again a little after 07:00 and off to Lambs Head where I met up with Paul Alderson, fellow competitor from 2017 who was using this TAWR as training for his Transcontinental Race campaign in July and not pressing on too hard.
Selfie time. Ragged but happy.
This was to become storm Hector day with some proper Wild Atlantic Way weather. I didn’t mind as it only seemed proper. I felt the rest of the riders had had it too easy with all this sunshine. Truly, they were missing out on the full TAWR experience.
Further silliness. At some point along the N71 I developed a very painful muscle in my right thigh that made pedalling with that leg really difficult. I just could not find any stretch that would get into it. In desperation I called my wife, who’s something of a yoga expert.
So ensued a really comical time with me rolling about on the road side trying different stretches and giggling manically. At one point a lady pulled over to check I was ok and timed it just as I was chanting “I’m such a manly man!” 🤣 Sadly though, stretching wasn’t helping.
I stopped at a supermarket cafe somewhere near Doonemark to rest and take stock on my situation. A hot meal was very welcome after the wet ride I’d been having. Jeremy Koijmans also arrived and I think it’s fair to say he wasn’t enjoying the wet weather anywhere near as much as me! He suggested I elevate my leg as that may help ease the pain off.
The patrons of the cafe were remarkably understanding as they stepped past my prostrate form with a smile.
I worked out that I’d been riding in a way that had me almost back pedalling in an attempt to reduce the pressure on my sores and these particular muscles weren’t trained for that. Boo!
I’d taken Ibuprofen for the sores pain a day or two back but didn’t want to be filling myself with painkillers for days on end. I’m certain it’s not good for you. So, ignore pain, soldier on, painkiller free.
The weather got properly wild for the rest of the day with driving rain and howling winds. Yes! Proper Atlantic weather, call me mad but I love it. I met Jeremy again and he certainly wasn’t feeling as inspired by the weather and rode off grumbling. No matter.
Some slow wet kilometres further and I made it to the top of the ascent on the Sheep’s Head peninsular. The point at which I’d abandoned the race the year previously. It was an emotional moment that reinforced my determination to finish. It was just me and the route now, no racing, just keep making progress, hold it together till the end.
I made it to the tiny village of Kilcrohane at about 19:00 and in atrocious weather but noted some good bivi spots near the pub. Ok, out to the headland and back before a pub dinner and sheltered bivi, I might even have a Guinness! I had it all planned.
The ride out along the headland was brutal with driving rain and headwinds and of course not aided by my many pains. It was worth it at the end though as the wind whistling round the buildings was insane. I leant my back into it and held 18kg of loaded bike in front of me and it blew out in front like a flag. I couldn’t work out how to take a selfie of that.
The ride back to Kilcrohane was swift with the strong tailwind. To the pub! Pah! No food served, “…you have to go to the B&B, that’s the only place offering food.” Oh well if I must; it felt like a bit of a cheat though.
Still I did really need some recovery time to aid my failing, ageing, body. A hearty meal, sleep and leisurely full Irish breakfast had me set for the final push to the Kinsale finish.
The storm had past and it was a beautiful sunny day but I was in a lot of pain. Just 206km to go but I ended up averaging a lowly 16.6kph and it took me 12.5 moving hours in 17 elapsed.
I could barely ride with my one functioning leg and as the day past the same muscle in the other leg began to lock up as well. I became steadily slower and was forced to walk on many hills as I simply couldn’t pedal with any strength.
I was still moving however and all I could do was keep re-framing the situation according to my changing circumstances. I plodded along pushing my bike as the sun set. Strangely, I had a tremendous sense of well being in spite of my difficulties.
Here I was strolling freely on a beautiful summer’s evening in southwestern Ireland. Many people travel from all over the world to enjoy similar. My issues were self inflicted, there was nothing to feel hard done by about.
Still, I cannot say I enjoyed watching the steady stream of riders passing me by.
As the night wore on I was fully ready for it all to end. The kilometres ticked by ever slower and there seemed to be a relentless succession of hills that often had to be walked. Earlier, I’d passed people relaxing on pub terraces having dinner and thought how lovely that would be.
Stupidly, I’d disabled the “climbing” page on my Wahoo some months previously. This screen provides an elevation profile of your route so that you can see what lays ahead and how far up a climb you are (I’d figured that not knowing was er..”character building”). I think I’d built enough character by now. Just keep moving Chris!
Around 03:00 on Friday 15th June I literally limped into Kinsale, totally spent. I laughed at the sight of the final short and very steep climb to the finish at the holiday village. Race director Adrian must have been delighted when he saw that. There was no way I could ride up there no matter how much I wanted to. As it was I had to pause half way whilst walking!
I’d made it though, I had made it, and I suppose a mid 40’s placing isn’t too shabby for an old bloke anyway.
Still, I have unfinished business with this ride. One day I’ll have a solid clear run at it with no neck troubles. Not 2019 though, I have other ideas for that.
Trackleaders gives race statisics:
Moving time: 5:04:03
Stopped time: 2:12:54
Average daily distance: 292.1km
Moving average: 18.2kph
Ever since I arrived here in southern France I’ve had the nearby and iconic Mont Ventoux in my sights as a ride challenge. Winter mountain weather has made this pretty much impossible up until last week (April 16th) when the weather changed completely. Rather than sub zero temperatures and gales Ventoux was now apparently set for 10c+, light winds and sunshine.
For the past several weeks I’ve been heading out on overnight adventures each weekend as part of my preparation for the 2018 Transatlantic Way Race. The physical and mental training benefits of long, solo, multi day rides are many, whilst getting ever more familiar with my gear and provisioning on route is also very helpful. An overnighter to Ventoux just had to happen.
My plan for this Ventoux trip was to ride about 125km on Friday night and camp out. This will then leave me a 25km warm up ride in the morning before riding the classic ascent from Bedoin; breakfast at the summit, descend to Malaucene and ride back to La Ciotat, just like that..
Friday had been a busy day already as I’d driven from Viareggio, Italy, back to La Ciotat, France and moved into new accommodation but though tired I was feeling pretty keen to get out on the open road again and for the first time in many months not be faced with icy temperatures. As a result of the many doings of this day I didn’t manage to get away until 20:40 but this did make for quieter roads.
You see very few other cyclists when you cycle at night, yet it really is a fantastic time to ride. The roads are quieter and the approach of traffic from behind or ahead comes with a reassuring early warning glow from headlights and added to that it’s generally a less windy time of day. Certainly, there may be an increased sense of exposure and vulnerability as you pass by closed shops, through sleeping towns and hear the eery sounds of waking forests but all of this is part of the adventure, the taking of the road less travelled, even if only because of the time of day.
Still it’s a strange business I’ve gotten myself into, this setting off into the night to ride hundreds of kilometres. I immediately begin counting off the distance on my bike computer until I can stop, as if I’m wishing the time away.
There is a fair amount of effort involved in all this cycling so looking forward to the next rest point is an understandable part of this clock watching but I think another aspect is about simply maintaining a sense of place or position along a route. My tiny computer screen just shows an direction arrow along a road and some other ride data. Place names come and go but in unfamiliar places my memory is unable to place them on a route as the ride progresses so it becomes; 20km done, about 5 hours to go at this rate then, 45km, 4 hours maybe,…etc. Then finally I arrive, or get to rest, and it all starts over again.
Once an adventure is finished then almost immediately the planning for the next begins. One day, when I’ve tired of endurance races, I may just get out and start riding and see where I end up… I’m not ready for that yet though.
Wise people will tell you that a happy life is all about enjoying the journey and not the destination. I agree, though defined destinations can add clarity to a journey.
As the night progressed I faced my usual challenge of finding somewhere to refill my water bottles. In the UK virtually every petrol station has an outside tap or water point. This seems to be a rare occurrence in France and after many failed searches of garage forecourts I happened upon La Cave a Francois in Mallemort at around 1:00 am.
A group of people were sat outside next to a tap..aha! However, I was helpfully directed away from the tap and inside to the rather loud bar which I then discovered was largely full of young women in pretty flouncy dresses…staring at me! I suddenly felt very exposed in my lycra…
My water bottles were kindly refilled and with a smile I headed away for the final hour or so of this night’s ride. It was calm and around 10c which felt comfortably warm compared to some of my previous weeks adventures. No need for any additional shelter tonight. At around 02:00am and with 125km ridden I pulled off down a side road and found myself a nice grassy field to bivi down in. 
With no requirement for full race type sleep deprivation I set an alarm for 07:15 and suppered on chicken slices and a cereal bar before getting my head down.
My bivi is an Outdoor Research Aurora and I’d recommend it to anyone. I selected it as being the lightest, fully breathable, bivi with a built in bug net. At 600gm it’s not as light as some but as this is my primary sleeping arrangement rather than an, in case of, kind of shelter I’m happy to lug it about. I’ve slept in here soaking wet and woken up nearly dry.
The only indication left from my presence that night was a flat spot in the grass. Treading lightly; I like that.
I was on the road again by 08:00 and riding towards the beckoning peak but with little real realisation of what really lay ahead.
It was about 9c and I was wearing a merino base layer along with a warm short sleeved spring/autumn jersey plus leg and arm warmers. I duly arrived in Bedouin nicely warmed up and decided to remove the arm warmers but nothing else as experience has shown that it it tends to get a lot cooler as you get higher.
I munched a couple of Snickers bars, had a good drink and set off confidently for the summit. I soon passed a couple of people on mountain bikes and a woman on inline skates but I think from that point on it was everybody else passing me.
I’ve ridden some long climbs already this year but nothing like this and it turned out that I’d made a grave error of judgement regarding my clothing. I just kept getting hotter and hotter… the sweat was pouring off me. I fully unzipped my jersey and pulled my leg warmers down around my ankles but that didn’t help much. My ride data shows that rather than the temperature decreasing or even holding steady it actually rose to 27c!
On the chart here red is heart rate, blue is temperature, pink is power and green is speed. You can clearly see how my HR rises and stays high but my power drops with the increase in temperature.
I stubbornly refused to stop to remove layers. My first Ventoux ascent had to be a non stop event… The road got busier and busier as time passed with people panting past me with a “bonjour”or flying down on the descent.
One guy flew past me on the way down and then flew back past me on the way up again. I saw some highly muscled legs that morning!
I was very slow compared to other riders but I comforted my bruised ego with the thoughts that the others probably hadn’t ridden 125km the night before and slept in a field for 5 hours. They most certainly were not riding on around 18kg of loaded bike and they were generally a lot younger!
Once you get out of the Ventoux forest section and above the tree line the road taunts you with glimpses of the big tower on the summit which seems much closer than it is. By now my body was screaming at me to stop and walk, the sweat was burning in my eyes and I just wanted it all to end. The soles of my feet were also burning from the relentless pedal pressure.
Still it also felt good to be riding a classic cycling climb and to see the writing left on the road from the last Tour De France here in 2016. I could almost feel the excitement and picture the crowds cheering. The idea that Chris Froome and others have ridden up here in under and hour was just mind boggling. My Strava segment shows a woeful 2hrs 32min. I’ll have to return fresh and unladen!
I particularly remember the final few hundred meters when the end was just so close but yet I was also so very, very close to giving up. That’s a memory I shall be calling on for encouragement during challenging times in the future. “Stick at it Chris…it’s not as bad as Ventoux”…
The more usual celebration going on around me was to hoist your bike aloft. I wasn’t going to risk that with my fully loaded bike.
Time to find more drink and and eat something. I loaded up on Coke and water and foolishly bought a bottle of Powerade….uurgh that was so hideously chemically tasting even compared to the Coke! Still it had much needed fluid and calories.
I found shelter from the wind and sat in my black Gore jacket in the sun in order to stay warm. I tend to chill rapidly after a ride so know I have to wrap up even if I feel hot initially.
My planned route down was via Malaucene but it turned out that this was closed due to snow. Ho hum, back the way I came then.
Now I had a new problem. I hadn’t managed to stay warm enough and was shivering. As I began the descent I kept getting this wheel wobbling sensation. I stopped and checked everything and then just concluded it was because I was being too cautious and braking too much… ummmm
I rode a bit quicker, relaxed my grip and gained confidence. Awhile later a group of guys passed me and I thought “…mmm I could use them a pacers” so I tagged along behind and it felt like we were really flying. Ride data shows a fast, for me, 69kph.
Then it all got terrifying, I developed a severe front wheel wobble and was seriously thinking that I might have to bail into a bush or something. I’ve heard of this happening but never experienced it before myself. My Genesis Datum has only inspired more and more confidence descending the longer I’ve ridden it.
I had to think quick…”front wheel wobble, relax grip, ease off on the front brake use the back brake a little more relax, relax, relax..” it worked and I wound steadily to a halt. Pah…what a morning! Frankly I just wanted to go home and cry!
Adrenalin and endorphins did their job though and I was soon back on the descent and concentrating on not shivering or white knuckle gripping the handlebars.
Back in Bedouin it was a hot 33c and I spotted a couple of guys resting their legs in the town fountain. Oh I had to have some of that! I could have just stopped there, had a nice lunch, maybe even booked a B&B and simply ridden back to La Ciotat the next day.
Nope this was a training ride, not a tour. I still had 150km to go and another 1000m of climbing to be done.
Fortunately the next couple of hours were on pretty flat roads so I just treated it as a steady recovery ride and kept eating snickers bars, drinking my Coke and water mix and munching chicken slices. Temperatures were in the low to mid 30’s and I was still a bit over dressed in just my spring/autumn jersey but the airflow helped keep me from overheating too much.
As I made it back to the hills the temp fell to the mid 20’s and then into the teens and by then my body had regrouped enough for me to make quite decent progress again.
I was home in time to have a shower and pop out for a well earned Negroni cocktail and a bite to eat with the satisfying sense of a day very well lived!
I haven’t ridden an overnighter since August 2017. It’s now February 2018 and my life circumstances have shifted so that I’m mostly based and training in the south of France rather than my home in Cornwall England.
There’s certainly worse places to be! The cycling here, near Toulon, is excellent so long as you like hills, mountains and wild landscapes. Luckily I do and I figure that riding in such arduous terrain can only benefit my training for this years TAWR.
Riding off into the night and camping wild in just a bivouac bag is hardly common, comfortable behaviour for most of us but my intention is to become increasingly comfortable doing just that. I have a no B&B policy for the race itself because I desire and enjoy the adventure of that level of self-support.
Finally, as we’re heading into the later half of February, the inland overnight temperatures here are not regularly well below zero and the nights very long. You can camp out in such conditions of course but it necessitates carrying more gear and I can’t say that it inspires me very much.
As it turned out this trip still had temperatures down to -3c and the cold was quite an issue for me. In the Relive video below you can see that the end of this night ride was basically one long freezing descent. I should have put another layer on but as I was pretty warm from the previous climb and could not really recall the topography of my route and how long the descent would last, I didn’t bother. Big mistake!
I must say I had a feeling of trepidation before I set off on this one. It was further out of my comfort zone than usual. Riding into the unknown, in a foreign country, where I don’t speak the language and with no close contacts nearby.
I have a Spot tracker and my wife had a copy of my route so she could check on me remotely from the UK but in the event of an emergency it will be just me and my mobile phone. I wrote out an “In Case of Emergency Card” and put it in my top bar pack. That was a sobering experience…
This night ride had me questioning my motives when I was on busier and less enjoyable roads. “What am I doing this for?” “Am I mad?” “Why bother?” “You could just turn around” I don’t have a clear answer for any of this. I know it’s a form of escape from the mundanity and compromises of daily life and I know I feel, in some way, more alive when I do these trips. Other than that the simple answer is I truly enjoy it, even including the moments when “I’m not enjoying it”, if that makes any sense.
Within 2 or 3 hours such thoughts had passed and I was into that calm night riding zone when the roads become almost empty and there’s more or less only the sound of the wind in your ears, your breathing and the purr of the bike’s drivetrain for company. I find it almost meditative.
Due to the high wind chill factor winter riding is typically an experience of too hot on the climbs too cold on the descents, and I’d had plenty of this in the 5 hours or so before I finally arrived in a chilly state at my target of the Elan 24/24 service station at Salles Sur Verdon I’d hoped to at least to find a vending machine here but I had no such luck.
The night was cold, clear, calm and starlit. Beautiful – time to find a bivi spot.
I always seek covered shelter when using my bivi bag as being exposed to any wind makes it very noisy inside and any rain is also noisy and then adds a lot of unnecessary water weight and general unpleasantness when packing away in the morning.
Shivering, I pedalled around the area looking for somewhere vaguely appropriate to camp. The best I could find was a covered patio area in front of a closed campsite. 
The cold tile floor was less than ideal for warmth but it did make for easy, clean, setting up and packing away. By this point my fingers were so cold that I couldn’t unclip my bags or helmet..doh!
I finally managed using my teeth. Next, roll out bivi, inflate Thermarest mat, off with shoes, on with merino buff and into the bag goes I. Supper time… 2 cooked chicken breast fillets and a cereal bar. (I find protein before sleep helps with my recovery)
I’d not found anywhere to buy more food or drink on this ride either so my rations were low. Due to the cold I hadn’t needed to drink that much and a service station tap had at least allowed me to top up the juice mix in my bottles ready for the morning. Running low on fluids is to be avoided at all costs.
I had stupidly gambled on being warm enough on my toasty warm Thermarest mat, with just my cycling clothes and a down jacket to double as a sleeping bag. This has been fine before at +3 or 4c but with me being very cold already and with the freezing conditions it wasn’t so good at all and I literally shivered the night away, waking frequently and miserably, dreaming of being warmed by the first shafts of dawn sunshine.
No chance! The sun was way over on the other side of the mountains but still it was a warming thought and every little helps. On the next trip my down quilt is coming with me regardless of the added weight and packing squeeze!
I did not see a single cyclist on the road that night, I wonder why…
I had a long warming climb to look forward to this Sunday morning and was expecting to soon be shedding layers but it was not to be. I was wearing, bib shorts, a short sleeve merino base layer, thermal leg warmers with merino knee warmers on top, a winter jersey, 2 pairs of socks, a TAW gilet, a Gore shake dry jacket , a primaloft quilted gilet and a full Rab down jacket over that plus a merino buff and cap. This entire lot stayed on for several hours without me overheating, hill climbs and all. I must have been properly chilled through from my cold night.
Still, this was a fabulous ride apart from the early cold and hunger due to the lack of open food shops on a Sunday in rural France.
The first col, Source de Vaumale of this ride is probably the longest climb I’ve ever ridden. At 12km and with an average gradient of 5.9% and a maximum of 9% it’s hardly Irish or Cornwall style steep by any stretch but still the added distance helps make up for that. The views are glorious the whole way.
Having completed the climb it was time to ride on and find a sunny spot for my well earned breakfast of another couple of chicken breasts and cereal bars. The ride data for the previous night ride suggests that I’d burnt around 4000kcal, add on the energy burnt trying to stay warm over night plus the climb just completed and it is clear I was very well into an energy deficit even after breakfast. Good training!
I certainly felt short on power but not like I’d “bonked” or hit any kind of a fatigue wall. I just felt generally depleted but I was in good spirits nonetheless. It was a glorious day in the mountains with barely a soul on the roads, life was good.
I eventually arrived at a village with a very small open Tabac bar but with no food or snacks in sight I ordered 2 Cokes and a coffee. The Cokes that arrived were sugar free..! Part way through the first Coke I spotted some full sugar Orangina and swapped out one of the cokes. I had three cereal bars left so ate another of those and pressed on.
Maybe an hour later I arrived at another tiny bar full of French gents enjoying small lunchtime drinks. Full power Coke this time and another cereal bar. It helped.
Finally at just after 2pm and nearly seven hours into my ride I found an artisan bakery open in Draguignan and had a truly, truly, wonderful tuna and egg salad baguette accompanied by a large slice of pizza whilst sat in the now warm sunshine. Oh my this made a difference and it wasn’t too long before I felt my energy levels increase. Bouyed but my increased energy I considered trying to make it back to my start within 24hrs but concluded that enough was enough and I didn’t need any more self induced challenges.
An open Spar shop just 30km or so from my finish lured me in for a final junk food top up before the last hill climb. A large Coke and entire pack of fig rolls later and that was me sorted for the final push; the darkness and cold was closing in again.
All in all a great adventure and good mental and physical training. I learnt a lot about what not to do and burnt off some unneeded weight, at least half a kilo.
In September 2016, shortly before I signed up to the 2017 TAWR, I was cycling simply for pleasure and to improve general fitness. Once I’d committed to the 2017 race I knew I was going to need to raise my game so I began studying online articles and generic training plans. It wasn’t long before I concluded that this approach wasn’t going to be as effective as I wanted, there were just too many variables and too many opinions.
Virtually every, if not all, serious athletes in any sport employ coaches. There’s a reason for that, coaching is proven to improve any athletes performance.
Just because you or I are “lowly” amateurs of varying ages, ambition, experience and levels of ability doesn’t mean we don’t deserve or won’t benefit from coaching. If you’re planning to complete an endurance race such as the TAWR then make no mistake you are, or swiftly need, to become an “athlete”.
The race itself maybe unsupported but in the run up to it you are going to benefit from all the support you can muster to encourage you to keep getting the quality training hours in alongside all your other distractions, demands and responsibilities.
Having a coach setting my training plans, analysing my performance numbers and offering feedback has really helped with my focus, commitment, sense of direction and confidence. I always know he’s watching. If I skip a training ride, I’ll have to explain and it’s not often that I do.
The only downside with coaching is the expense. To get the best from it you absolutely need a costly power meter and of course you must also pay for the coaches ongoing time and expertise. It’s a luxury for sure but coaching will likely yield far greater advantages than buying a new bike for the event or costly, high end, ultra light components. £100 a month or less will get you well coached. That level of expense could be recovered by other lifestyle adjustments such as buying fewer posh coffees and less or no alcohol.
I used Training Peaks’s find a coach service. Training Peaks was founded by Joe Friel author of “The Cyclists’ Training Bible” and many other excellent books. I was already familiar with his work and I respect the balanced, deeply researched and measured approach that he brings to any subject he tackles. The Training Peaks service is highly regarded and widely used by many top athletes and teams. There are other options of course but with Training Peaks you can pretty confident your getting one of the very best packages.
Multi day, solo, endurance riding is a tiny, niche, aspect within the global sport of cycling. Few coaches will have had any experience with working with such athletes so you are going to need a coach that is genuinely interested, understanding, adaptable and truly prepared to really think about what you’re trying to achieve.
Training Peaks introduced me to Martin Burrows from KOM Coaching. Martin has 20 or so years of coaching experience, is highly qualified and a pleasure to work with. He recognises that coaching is an art and that every athlete is unique with differing strengths, weaknesses and goals. He focuses flexibly on what you need at any given time rather than any hard and fast preconceived agenda of his own. A periodised training plan is initially tailored to your circumstances and created with the target of having you arrive at your chosen event as ready as you can be. This is then further refined and adjusted along the way.
I’ve asked Martin to share his perspective on the subject.
” Chris has touched on some of the many benefits of a having a coach. There are lots of great coaches out there, so I thought it might be useful to offer some advice on how to choose the right coach for you.
One of the main benefits to having a coach is that they can be objective. Instead of you trying to make sense of the data and trying to look at the bigger picture whilst in the midst of a tough training programme, a coach has the advantage of looking from the outside in. This brings with it a sense of perspective which is sometimes impossible to see from the inside. Choose a coach who not only has the knowledge and experience needed to analyse your training sessions and performances, but also knows when to push you a little harder, when to advise you to ease back, who can offer support when you come up against set backs or things that don’t quite pan out as you expected, and who can show you the positives and where you are improving when you can’t quite see it yourself.
There are lots of training plans freely available on the internet. These may work well for some people some of the time – if they follow them exactly. However they can’t possibly take into account a riders training history or potential, their work and family commitments, or adapt to unforeseen circumstances like illness or other reasons that a training session – or several sessions – are not completed.
A good coach will take all of these things into account to ensure that a training plan is personalised and the rider gets the most out of it.
A great coach will do all of these things and be prepared to adapt a riders training plan to suit everything about them, to change things when the unforeseen happens or life just gets in the way, and also to recognise that individuals respond differently to training. A great coach will work hard to create training sessions and plans that enable an individual to improve where it counts most in the pursuit of their specific goals and in a way that suits them best. A great coach has a whole ‘box of tools’ and the creativity needed to design a variety of sessions and plans that bring about the desired training effects in a way that suits the individual rider.
In the case of Chris, a drastic change in work commitments this year has necessitated a drastic change in the approach we’re taking to his training. Simply saying ‘you need to find x number of hours to train’ is just not going to work. I work hard to adapt and redesign Chris’ training sessions and plan to ensure that whatever is going on around him he continues to get stronger and faster and move closer to his goals.
Find a coach that is flexible in their approach and has the knowledge, skills and creativity to ensure that your training plan is truly personalised, giving you the very best chance to succeed in your goals.
This really is the key to it all. Just like any relationship, some people get along or work together better than others, and just like any good relationship you both need to work on it. For your part, you need to communicate regularly so that your coach knows how easy or difficult each session was. Did you struggle on some parts? Were other sections easier than you expected? All the numbers in the world can’t show the whole picture. Tell your coach how it felt so that your coach can put the last pieces of the jigsaw into place. Only then can your coach ensure that you are working on the right things, that you get the most out of each session and devise a plan to help you train smart and reach your goals. Help your coach to help you!
So, the key to it all, in one word? Communication! “
Thank you Mr Burrows.
In this post I share what I’ve learnt about saddle comfort.
I’ve been cycling since I was a kid as a way to stay fit or get about locally. It is only in the last year that I’ve been riding regularly for several hours at a time or even days on end. My biggest single challenge with any of this has been dealing with saddle discomfort.
The cycling industry doesn’t like to put newcomers off by dwelling on this but it can take months to fully acclimatise your sit bones to the demands of sitting upon a bike saddle for hours on end.
As a new cyclist you have to begin slowly in order to accustom your bum to the saddle experience; no matter what brand or design of saddle. Just complete very short rides on alternate days to begin with, there are no shortcuts, it simply takes time for your tissues to develop and adjust to this new demand.
A gradual process is fine for acclimatising your sit bones but if you’re also experiencing numbness and tingling in your soft tissues then something else needs to be done as you can never acclimatise to that. Such tingling or numbness can lead to longterm issues and needs to be taken seriously. (One long five day endurance trip I took lead to months of discomfort but fortunately no lasting issues.)
Selle SMP Extra
Used on my previous bike. I had high hopes for this but try as I may I couldn’t get a comfortable position with it.
Stock Genesis saddle
This came with my Datum bike but didn’t work well for me.
Brooks Cambium C15 Imperial
I so wanted this saddle to work for me. I love how it looks and initially it did seem very comfortable but after over 1000+km of testing I had to give up on it. It was Ok when riding up on the hoods but in the drops or on TT bars my nether regions went to sleep (I think the non cutout version maybe better as it should result in less sagging in the middle)
Ergon SRS-M
This at first seemed like the solution to my problems but again I couldn’t get a fit that allowed for comfort and blood flow in an aero position using the drops or TT bars without tilting the saddle nose down. Any nose down saddle position had me putting too much weight on my hands to stop me sliding forward. This then lead to nerve constriction and numbness and tingling in my fingers.
Selle SLR
This is the saddle endurance cycling supremo Kristof Allegaert uses and having watched him cross Australia on one during the IPWR I thought it was worth a try. Once again I had the same issue of needing excessive downward saddle tilt to maintain blood flow in more aggressive riding positions which lead to excess hand pressure.
Infinity Seat N series
Aside from perineal pressure there is also the issue of saddle sores where your sit bones make contact. I haven’t suffered particularly badly with this but it’s something I’d idealy avoid. I read many glowing reviews about the comfort of this saddle and it’s design intrigued me. Sadly, my sit bone width at circa 130mm resulted in my sit bones resting, very uncomfortably, exactly on the edges of the cutout rather than within it. I could also tell that even if this wasn’t the case that I was still going to have perineal pressure issues. Another one for eBay and a real shame that http://infinitybikeseat.com don’t provide better pre-purchase sizing guidance.
ISM PN 1.1
Success! This is the saddle I rode the 2017 TAW race on with virtually no blood flow or nerve issues and only mild saddle sores. I find I can move around a lot on this, but still stay comfortable, depending on whether I’m on the hoods, drops or TT bars. The pressure on my pubic rami bones took a few weeks to get used to but then I was set. It’s not quite perfect but certainly the best I’d found until I upgraded to the new PN 3.0.
ISM PN 3.0
This is a seriously good saddle for my needs. Virtually zero blood flow issues riding in any position. Compared with the PN 1.1, the wider back offers more pelvic support and allows me to sit back onto my sit bones if I want. The slightly different to curve to the top of the saddle fits my anatomy better. Small changes compared with the PN 1.1 have resulted in even better comfort. There maybe more comfortable saddles to be had but I’m content with this and no longer looking elsewhere. My focus now is on managing friction and eliminating saddle sores. Check out ISM’s design theory here.
Thanks for reading, I hope you’ve found this useful and wish you happy, comfy riding.
Sram eTap and gear ratiosRiding in the Transatlantic Way Race highlighted one particular issue with my bike that could be improved; gear shifting. I bought it as a stock 2016 Genesis Datum 10 equipped with Shimano Tiagra 10 speed gearing. This mostly worked well but I had occasional issues with the left shifter intermittently refusing to engage and change from small to large chainring. It would begin working again after much random flicking of the lever but the reason for this problem never became apparent . This was not confidence inspiring at all and as the inner workings of the shifters aren’t readily serviceable I wanted to change this set up to something more reliable.
In my earlier post about the upgrades I’ve already made to this bike you’ll see that I opted for old fashioned bar end shifters and I’ve been riding very happily with these up until the race. I chose them because:
So all good then! Well, almost… During the race proper I was riding well over 15 hours daily, day after day, in highly undulating terrain and that makes for a huge number of gear changes. Consider that I rode 242km last Sunday in similar terrain and made 1,537 gear changes (81 front and 1456 rear: data thanks to eTap and Wahoo Elemnt ) it is easy to see how these endurance events change so much of what we may be used to on a bike.
Using this rate against my average 322km a day on the TAWR suggests around 2000+ gear changes a day. It is hardly surprising that by day six I was getting a sore right hand and a blister on my little finger. What is the easiest way to make 2000+ gear changes daily over multiple days? Push button electronic shifting of course.
A second, and much bigger issue, became apparent one night when I was slowly climbing a narrow, windy, undulating pass. I couldn’t see beyond the limit of the beam from my light and this made it very hard to see the gradient ahead and anticipate my gear changes correctly. Added to that, not being able to shift from the hoods or brake levers made things even more difficult. This was true on some daytime climbs as well so I resolved to look into electronic alternatives once the race was done as I find that for ultra cycling anything I can do to make life on the bike easier helps. What might be just a minor niggle or annoyance on a weekend century ride can become a real problem over long multiple day rides.
My first thought was Shimano Di2 as it’s a well proven system chosen by many top ultra cyclists. Di2 however involves a lot of wires, connections and a single central power source. None of which should be a problem when regularly well maintained but contacts, wires and connections can very quickly wear or corrode unseen during extreme conditions.
I love the purity, style and history of Campagnolo as a brand and really wanted to delight in their offerings but I just couldn’t. I quickly eliminated their EPS system because it seemed far less likely that it could be safely made handle the large 36T rear sprocket option that I want to be able to run as well issues with battery placement and ease of charging whilst on the road etc.
To my mind, when compared with Sram’s eTap wireless system, Di2 and EPS seem needlessly complex and dated. I’m convinced that all manufacturers systems will become wireless over the next few years.
Sram’s eTap system requires 4 batteries (2 rechargeable in the changers and two CR2032 penny batteries in the shifters) which may initially seem complex but as it is highly unlikely that all 4 batteries will fail at once I see this as an advantage. The batteries are light, the charger is tiny and can be powered from a USB power bank or dynamo hub. There is no junction box, no cabling, no remote battery to be hidden, just a very tidy self contained system.
Added to that the eTap shifting system really appeals to me. Press the left lever and the chain climbs up a sprocket, press the right lever and the chain drops down a sprocket. Press and hold left or right lever and the gear change continues up or down as far as you want. Press and hold both together to shift the front chainrings up or down. It’s superbly simple and intuitive, and leaves the brake levers left solely for braking. I instantly settled into using the system and virtually never miss shift whereas with STI shifters I’d get it wrong surprisingly frequently (I know blame me not the system…but..). A further advantage of electronic shifting is being able to set up satellite shifters to change gears at the push of a button from on the aero bars or the drops etc. I have Sram eTap Clics neatly installed in the bar ends and I find this really let’s me “settle in” better on the rolling roads I tend to ride. The brakes have sockets that allow for up to two satellite shifter systems to be added so for the ultimate in flexibility you could have Clics in the TT/aero bar ends and Blips on the drops or bar tops.
Apart from the obvious high cost the only downside is having to charge/change batteries to keep everything working and this is what put me off going electronic initially. eTap batteries are small and light so carrying charged spares plus the tiny usb charger that can run from a power pack or from my hub dynamo is no big issue. A full system failure is extremely unlikely and at worst I might be stuck with either using a single front chainring with a working rear derailleur or with shortening chain and cobbling together a single speed set up which maybe no worse than a failure with a mechanical system. The long term reviews I’ve read suggest excellent reliability so I hope it never comes to that!
There is definitely a tactile delight to full mechanical systems but I don’t think they are the optimum choice for ultra endurance racing because with ultra distances anything that makes time on the bike easier and more comfortable is an advantage. Of course, having said that, it maybe that if you are heading somewhere truly remote that a fully serviceable mechanical system maybe a safer/wiser option.
I’ve found that the slick ease of eTap makes everything I’ve used previously seem like an antique and as the vast majority of my riding distance is in the UK with fairly ready access to spares etc. I’m very happy to enjoy this luxury.
I’ve been running a Sram PG1170 11-36 cassette with a Shimano Ultegra medium cage rear derailleur up until now and with no issues. Web searching showed that many people had run 11-36t cassettes with the Sram Wifli eTap system even though Sram advise on a 32t maximum and, happily, I’ve had no issues either with my 11-36t or my Ultegra chainrings for that matter.
I’m pursuing optimum with this bike and to that end I have modified my cassette by mixing the sprockets from my existing 11-36t with those from an 11-25t PG1170 cassette that I found heavily discounted online. The standard PG1170 11-36t and 11-25t gear spacings run as follows:
11,12,13,15,17,19,22,25,28,32,36
11,12,13,14,15,16,17,19,21,23,25
The three largest 28,32,36 or 21,23,25 sprockets are joined together and cannot be split but the other individual sprockets can be swapped about so long as you start with the 11t so I’ve combined the two to create an alternate 11-36t cassette as follows:
11,13,15,17,19,21,23,25,28,32,36
This gives a more even gear spread through the middle of the cassette (as illustrated below) which makes for more economical riding with fewer changes in cadence. That’s the theory at least and it’s working very well around my hilly Cornish terrain and on recent rides my most used gears have been the new 50 x 21 & 50 x 23 ratios.
It’s now pretty much the perfect bike for my needs.
Day 2 dawned and I awoke happily warm and, remarkably, somewhat drier than when I’d wriggled into my little bivi cocoon 5 hours or so earlier.
My weather check the day before had suggested that sunshine and unfavourable northeasterly winds were to be the order of the day. Right now though it was bitterly cold and anything but sunny.
Gear Ratios