There is something quite magical about going to sleep adjacent to one country and waking up adjacent to another. I was able to enjoy a carb loading breakfast of porridge with berries and honey, toast and marmalade and coffee, while we drifted into Liverpool
I made a rookie error on disembarking by asking Google maps to take me to the Mersey Ferry. It did. the one which has been decommissioned. I eventually navigated to the right one.
Which took me across to where I needed to start navigating home from.
This is where my problems started. The Garmin announced ‘navigation error’ then reset and it looked to me like the route was reinstalled. I set off but began to realise there was a problem as the direction felt unfamiliar and I was alongside, albeit on a good cycle track, the A580 towards Manchester but northerly rather than towards Warrington. The one advantage this long, straight, boring section of route had on it was the availability of McDonalds. I stopped for a second breakfast.
Not long after that I decided it must be lunchtime.
My suspicions that my route was not what I expected was confirmed when I sailed past signs to The Christie.
It did make me reflect that just over a year before I might not have anticipated I would be so recovered after a robotic radical prostatectomy for prostate cancer. The wonders of modern surgery (and the consummate skill of the surgeon).
My entry back into the Peak District felt circuitous and climbs harder than the route I had taken a few weeks previously. There was a killer climb which left me grinding at the pedals before I reached Mam Tor once more and could enjoy the paragliders soaring around the tops.
By the time I descended Winnats I was feeling the accumulated effects of the cycling and walking over the last 7 days. I checked the timetable. If I put the power down I could make a train at Hathersage and then get back to Shireoaks from Sheffield in time for tea. Which is why, dear reader, my last picture is from Platform 2 at Hathersage Station having had an utterly brilliant trip to Sligo and back again.
I could write about the intervening 3 days when we walked The Yeats Trail, up Queen Maeve’s Trail and then Benbulbin. All done in glorious sunshine with the perfect recovery drink (a deep black colour with a creamy white top…). This, however, is going to focus on the cycling. The return trip to Belfast from Sligo.
The hotel were more than accommodating when I told them I wanted to leave around 5am. The night porter was around and let me into the restaurant where I could help myself to cereals and fruit while he made me tea and toast. I had prepped and packed the bike the night before and set off shortly after 5am in the cool dawn air with mist hanging over the waters.
I was bowling along quite merrily when my rear tyre suddenly deflated spewing sealant all over the place. I pulled over and tried to reinflate the tyre but quickly realised there was a hole in the side wall and I would either have to try and put a tyre boot in or an inner tube. I elected for the latter. I was glad to have my Leatherman which I had specifically bought after Josh Reid explained he had to DNF on an ultra race because he couldn’t remove the valve from his rim to put a tube in and had to borrow some pliers from a stranger. I needed the Leatherman!
I estimated I was less than 10km into the route and still had the off road section to do in reverse. I took that very gingerly. I later discovered the side wall of the tyre was damaged and assume it was from my traverse of the stony track I was now reversing.
My main aim now was to keep up progress and find another spare inner tube in case anything happened to the tyres again.
It was when I got to Armagh that I stopped in a narrow, one way street and asked a man if there was a bike shop nearby. He replied “you are standing right next to the famous Danny McShane bicycle shop”. And Indeed I was!
It was a nest of bits and pieces but Danny’s son did find me the perfect inner tube, once he had sorted out a wheel he was fixing for someone.
The weather was pretty much perfect the whole day and I rolled back into Portadown and then along the cycle paths to Belfast arriving at the ferry port with plenty of time to spare.
This time I ordered a roll to go with my ravioli so I could mop it all up before I retreated to the comfort of my cabin and another good night’s sleep.
Stats: Sligo to Belfast 233km / 12hrs 37m moving time / 2773m ascent /5939 calories (all according to Strava)
Getting on and off the ferry was a bit of a faff. there was another cyclist and we were told we had to put our bikes on a trailer which would be towed onto the ferry and then we would get them brought to us when we docked at Belfast. The human foot passengers had to get on a bus and be transported onto and off the ferry.
I got myself breakfast on the boat in the hope of a quick getaway in Belfast but the logistics imposed on us meant I only got going around an hour after we had docked.
I will give Komoot five stars for the route out of Belfast towards Portadown. Segregated cycle lanes, the path along the Lagan canal and more cycle network made the ride in the early morning sunshine a delight.
Even when away from purpose built cycle paths the route took quiet backroads and despite the warning I had been given the drivers were mostly considerate and safe!
Passing through places like Long Kesh, Armagh, Omagh, Enniskillen tripped memories of more troubled times. Yet I could not determine where the border was. I criss crossed it several times on my ride yet the only way I knew I was in the south was because the road signs change to kilometres and there were political posters hung up for elections. I did have a very embarrassing moment when I stopped to buy some food and the woman said “that will be five ninety”. Asked if that was euros and she replied indignantly “sterling”. I had to ask where I was. “Fermanagh” came the terse reply…..
For that sin I was then rained on very heavily for an hour.
Pushing on despite the deluge it eventually dried out and the sun came out. The hills were mostly backloaded on the route but I thought I was making reasonable time and might make dinner by 8:30pm. Komoot had other ideas. It decided to throw in a little off road section which went uphill and over a very rough track.
Having made it across this ‘parkour’ I had just one more climb to do and then I arrived.
The boys had explained the situation and the hotel had held back a three course meal for me. Showered and changed I sat down to a pint of Guinness and more chicken and mash than one person could possibly eat even if they had ridden over 200km.
There is a great book by Flann O’Brien called the Third Policeman. In it someone commits a murder. However, because they have ridden a bike for decades it is determined that molecular exchange has taken place and he is now more of the bike and the bike more of him so they hang the bike for the crime. Why am I telling you this? Because it explains why long distance cyclists like to have their bike in their hotel room – it is part of them!
Every year a walking holiday is organised by one of us over a May weekend. The group usually gathers on a Thursday evening. We then walk Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Monday is optional as it is usually the day people head home.
Who are we? Apart from two adoptees we were all at St Benedict’s School in Ealing together from 1968 to 1975. The group has been gathering every year for nearly 30 years and I was invited about 20 years ago when one of the original participants reconnected through some work they were doing.
Walk, drink, eat, sleep, in various places around England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, France and Italy. I have had to miss a couple of gatherings. Last year it was because I was having a radical prostatectomy so I missed the Italian job.
So what has this got to do with cycling, coffee and cake?
For the last three gatherings I have been able to get to I have decided to bike-pack to where we are meeting. This year it was Sligo. Looking at the map I reckoned I could get to Liverpool and catch a ferry to Belfast overnight and then cycle from Belfast to Sligo. I might even make dinner in Sligo.
Liverpool is a good ride. I did a practice run to visit an old friend for the weekend a few weeks before. Komoot routed me over Winnats and the first half of the route had all the climbs.
The morning I set off to catch the ferry I discovered an essential bolt holding my Tailfin aero pack to the seat post had come apart and a screw was missing. My mate Jim’s house was en route only 20min away so I popped in to see if he could help fettle a fix. He could. He did. And I got a great cup of coffee thrown in. He looked doubtful when I said I was aiming to make the 10:30pm ferry which puzzled me until I subsequently discovered he thought I was heading for Holyhead!
The weather was mostly kind apart from a deluge nearer to Liverpool. Winnats was a challenge with a fully laden bike and I had to push about two thirds of the way up. I found myself settling into the rhythm of long distance cycling. Making sure I paced myself, ate regularly and stopped for as little time as possible. Gradually the mind empties, slows down and the moment becomes everything. Focussing on what you have done and what you have to do becomes less and less important. it is just what you are doing.
It took me seven and a half hours to do the 143km and I was able to catch the Mersey Ferry to Birkenhead with 2m to spare. I had 3 hours to spare before I could board the big boat.
When I did my expectations were exceeded. I had booked a cabin and found a very comfortable bed with an en suite that had a piping hot shower so I could clean up before heading to the restaurant for some pasta.
I was in bed by 10:30pm just as we set sail with my alarm set for 5.30am.
I recently read Daniel Lieberman’s book The Story of the Human Body. One key message I took from it is that the human body evolved to cope with discomfort. I was intrigued then to read The Comfort Crisis by Michael Easter which explored this theme in greater depth.
He recounts his personal story of heading out to the arctic to track and hunt caribou, the challenges it exposed him to and the insights it gave him.
Around the central story he weaves chapters with interviews and research on why, as humans, we need to move out of our comfort zone and experience hardship, boredom, hunger, physical effort and contemplation on death.
It made me reflect and make sense of why I have been drawn to challenges such as running marathons, mountaineering, long distance walking and, more recently, ultra endurance bike races.
As Easter captures in the book: “
“Comforts and conveniences are great. But they haven’t always moved the ball downfield in our most important metric: happy, healthful years. Perhaps existing only in our increasingly overly comfortable, overbuilt environment and always obeying our comfort drives has had unintended consequences and caused us to miss profound human experiences.”
The chapter on contemplation of death made me think quite profoundly about how we tend to avoid thinking, meditating and talking about death.
“Existential philosopher Martin Heidegger said, “If I take death into my life, acknowledge it, and face it squarely, I will free myself from the anxiety of death and the pettiness of life—and only then will I be free to become myself.””
In 1989 I had a malignant melanoma excised from my trunk. This event had a big impact on my life thereafter and I now feel I was lucky to have had this happen to me as it immediately connected me to my mortality and made me relish every single day since. My default to offers that challenge me physically and mentally since then has been to say ‘yes’. Some of my most intense memories (apart from my wedding and the births of my children!) Are located on mountains and long walks and rides. Who could forget hearing rustling alongside the forest tract you are riding and then a wild boar bursting out onto the path ahead, fortunately running away from you!
I am also taken by the discourse on boredom.
“When we kill boredom by burying our minds in a phone, TV, or computer, our brain is putting forth a shocking amount of effort. Like trying to do rep after rep after rep of an exercise, our attention eventually tires when we overwork it. Modern life overworks the hell out of our brains.”
The avoidance of boredom actually, one might posit, is detrimental to our wellbeing.
Tolstoy had this great quote in Anna Karenina that says boredom is a ‘desire for desires,’ ..… “So boredom is a motivational state.”
Maybe we need to invent a new diagnosis – Boredom Deficit Disorder?
Interestingly, reading the book has already reframed my perspective on what I do. This last weekend it was raining and I had a 4hour ride planned as part of my training for some big, challenging events I want to do later this year. Rather than being dismayed and postponing the ride I embraced the challenge and though how good it was to get cold, wet and tired and how much good that was doing me. I also cut the ride to three and a half hours once I got too wet and cold!
Intuitively I seem to have been dealing with the Comfort Crisis. Will others?
It had been raining for weeks. Then a window of better weather appeared which coincided with the Dales Divide over the Easter period. I had been training with Niel Copeland as my coach (5* recommendation) and had even deferred some important surgery I need so I could participate.
I had booked the Old Fighting Cocks for Thursday night and found Nicky Shaw was staying there. She is one of the best ultra riders in the country yet incredibly nice when you get to meet her as I did last year. I have been tracking her adventures ever since and we had dinner together and shared stories of what has been and what is to come. Perfect prep the night before a race.
Morning broke and the forecast held good
This year, Chris Ellison, the organiser had arranged car parking about 5km away so I had to drive the car up there and ride back with Nicky (who was obviously riding very steadily for her….). Obligatory photos outside the pub and on the pier at Arnside, a quick coffee and then we were off.
The route start on tarmac gives you your first ‘hit’ of hills early on. There are some tricky technical bridleway descents as well. I did this race on my Cannondale Topstone last year. The difference riding my full suss Scott Spark made was wonderful. As was the weather all day.
What was noticeable was just how soft it was under tyre. The bogs were much boggier than last year and as the day progressed and fatigue set in so did the bog snorkelling. This was not helped by the fact I was finding it hard to unclip my left foot. After I finished I discovered the cleat had slipped and was abutting the tread which meant it would jam in the pedal. It would have taken me 5min to sort this out if I had just stopped and checked it. A big lesson I learned from this event was that I must be prepared to take time out to solve problems – it is not faffing. In the long term it would have saved time.
Despite that issue I was riding well and then a rattle started. I had bought a Tailfin Aeropack for the event and had been out testing it on road, single tack, the Peaks and it had performed extremely well. Unfortunately two screws that hold the clamp to the supporting struts had fallen out on one side. I bodged a repair with cable ties and gaffer tape. Again, it crossed my mind but was not translated into action, I should have checked the screws on the other side. Yep. You guessed it. They fell out the next day.
I was eating Veloforte bars, Snickers, Liquorice Allsorts and my own Digestive biscuit/Dairylea triangle ‘sandwiches’. There are not many places to get resupply en route to Boroughbridge. A Cafe just before Chris’s farm sums it up. Niel and I had gone over the time I spent stopped last year and I was determined to keep moving so just got some water at the cafe and a bit of cake and coffee at Chris’s. Push on. Literally.
There were several sections of ‘hike a bike’. Not just uphill but also on the boggier sections. I have learned not to worry about that. Just keep moving forward. Every hike a bike section ends and there is invariably a downhill section to catch time up on. That was the advantage of the full suss as well. I had some really fun time on descents I had to pick my way down the year before.
There was also an encouraging road sign 🙂
The day had been gloriously warm but as the sun set it got colder and colder. I passed my previous year’s bivvy spot around the same time as I got there the year before but had no intention of stopping. In fact, I was surprised how good it felt riding into the night even though I had side planted into a freezing slurry of mud and cack around 11pm. I eventually made a tactical decision to stop at 2am in the morning (by which time I had dried out as well). I calculated I would ride better the next day if I had some sleep. I climbed into my bivvy bag, sleeping bag, liner, air mattress and was asleep in minutes.
Day 2
I woke around 4.30am shivering. Apparently it was around -3c. It was light enough to get up. Note: I will be discreet but if you eat Veloforte bars full of dates and wholesome stuff plus liquorice all day you will have no trouble with constipation – rather the opposite. Enough said?
I got going and as I was just outside Boroughbride got to a Morrisons (the detour into the fuel station is even routed on the GPX file!). I walked in to see a man sorting morning papers.
“Can I get a coffee?” “We open at 6.” I looked at my watch. it was 5.56am.
“Can I wash my hands?” He looked at me and with some alacrity said “Yes, of course.”
When I saw my face in the mirror I realised the mud caked visage that he saw must have influenced his decision!
Coffee and a large egg mayo roll restored energy levels and I set off towards York and then Scarborough. By this time the screws on the other strut had fallen out as well so I was bodging both sides with gaffer tape and had run out of cable ties.
This section of the route is pretty flat until just before the sea. En route I stopped in a town when I spotted a hardware store to get some more cable ties. You may well ask the question, ‘Why didn’t you buy some screws?”. My only excuse is ‘brain fog’ and lack of experience. As I said earlier, if I had taken just 10m to stop, reflect and plan I could have solved the problem that was ultimately my demise.
I had refuelled in York and munched the miles to Scarborough. Having been there the year before I wasn’t going to repeat the time I wasted sitting down for a fish and chip meal. I just grabbed a portion of chips to go and then stocked up at one of the supermarkets on the way out of town.
The town was heaving with tourists and it was a relief to get onto the long railway track path out to the north and then swing west into the woods and moors. There is a point at which you have to cross a 2km or so bog which I found utterly unridable. I also got confused and thought the route crossed a river. Once on the other side (feet soaking wet) I realised I need to make it back again. So now I had soaking feet, it was dark and getting cold.
Yet, bizarrely, I was thoroughly enjoying myself. I had kept going. I had tackled some pretty tough conditions and I was way ahead of where I had divvied the second night last year. This was fun.
I was, however, getting pretty tired. After a couple of swerves to avoid crashing after I lost concentration I thought it best to stop and get some sleep.
This time I put on everything I had including my overtrousers, slid into the bivvy and was out cold for 4 hours.
Day 3 – thing fall apart.
When I woke I peered out from the bivvy bag to see a freezing mist across the dell I was perched above. Having ‘overslept’ (it was about 5am) I packed up and set off. One of the good things about relentlessly focusing on moving was overtaking other riders who were just emerging from their bivvies. The next section had some challenging boggy, slippery tacks through woods and then clattering stone steps down the side of a hill.
My repairs came apart 4 times in the first hour. I was making very slow progress. the final straw came when I fashioned another repair and wheeled the bike of the kerb. As the rear wheel dropped the ties and gaffer tape all snapped – before I had even started riding. At this point I broke and decided to scratch. Fatigue, frustration and not pressing the pause button all contributed.
I phoned a taxi company in Whitby who were more than helpful. they researched all my options but all the rail services had ‘bus replacement’ services so ultimately I had a taxi all the way back to the car.
Packing everything up I was next to Tom, who had also scratched. His rear mech had exploded. He had rebuilt it but run into problems. He had also ridden into a puddle in one of the bogs which was far deeper than expected. His front wheel was submerged well above the axle and he had been catapulted over the handlebars. He then had difficulty extracting the bike!
Tom did give me the quote of this event: “If you knew what was going to happen, it wouldn’t be an adventure.”
So it ended.
My thanks to Niel Copeland for his coaching and support and friends who sent me encouraging WhatsApp’s. Nicky Shaw who was such fun to have dinner with and Chris Ellison and colleagues who organise this fabulous event. I’ll be back.
As I devoured the book (I found it a compelling and stimulating read) it made me realise how much Aristotle had covered, thousands of years ago, that we believe are new ways of thinking about life today. As Hall says, “There is comfort in a dialogue with a human mind from so long ago, because it makes you realise how little has changed about the human condition, despite all our supposed technological advances.”
On happiness: ‘John F. Kennedy summed up Aristotelian happiness in a single sentence: “The full use of your powers along lines of excellence in a life affording scope.”
Aristotle is clear that a one size fits all approach to life is flawed, he is consummately pragmatic. He is especially interesting regarding ethical decisions: “Aristotelians call themselves ‘moral particularists’. Each situation and dilemma requires detailed engagement with its nitty-gritty particulars. When it comes to ethics, the devil really can be in the detail.”
On education he is, however, adamant about the vital role it plays in society but, again, remains pragmatic: “But it remains his conviction that there should be a proper system of public governance of education. Parents today who reluctantly resort to private schools because they are not happy with what is offered by the state can take comfort from his concession that ‘when the matter is neglected by the community, however, it would seem to be the duty of the individual to assist his own children and friends to live good lives, or even if not able to do so successfully, at all events to make this the aim’.”
In making decisions he set out a number of rules:
“The first rule followed by the competent deliberator according to the ancient Greeks is ‘don’t deliberate in haste’. Impulsiveness has no place in deliberation.”
“The second rule is to verify all information.”
“Verifying information is closely related to the third rule, to consult and listen to an expert adviser. The adviser needs to be disinterested (not uninterested), and not standing to gain or lose from your decision.”
“The fourth imperative is to consult or at least look at the situation from the perspective of all parties who will be affected.”
“Rule number five is to examine all known precedents, both those in your personal life and history.”
“Rule number six: calibrate the likelihood of different outcomes and prepare for every single one you think is possible.”
“Besides likely and predictable outcomes, the seventh rule requires that you also think about that inconsiderate factor of luck. Factor in all the random possibilities you can possibly envisage. What unanticipated events might drastically affect how things proceed?”
Reflecting on these principles made me wonder if the PPE many of our politicians seem to study actually has any influence on the way they make decisions?
I did enjoy the injunction “don’t drink and deliberate’!
The elegant explanation of Aristotle’s thinking about debate, discourse and communication again contain most of the principles I have been taught in my career and as a coach: “Emotions and thought underlie Aristotle’s virtue ethics, but are also integral to his advice on persuasion. Some of his most interesting empirical observations on cognition through speech–how people take in information delivered in words–also occur in the Rhetoric. His entire theory is built on the relationship between the communicator and the audience, and how emotions and language create that relationship.” “Aristotle thinks that analogies are invaluable in persuading your listener.” “Finally, the observation of Aristotle’s that has most potential to transform your own persuasiveness is that there is far less difference than usually assumed between effective speech and effective writing. ‘Generally speaking, whatever you write should be easy to read or easy to utter, which is the same thing.’”
On self knowledge I found the following statement encapsulated something I have learned by experience: “Simply demeaning someone else, bitching about them either to their face or behind their back, makes the insolent person feel, temporarily, better about themselves. Aristotle shows remarkable psychological acuity in seeing that people who need to criticise others constantly have a problem with respecting themselves.”
Aristotle makes a compelling argument for Democracy, as well as appreciating its flaws: “In his Rhetoric he defines the goals of different constitutions in a way which makes democracy appear preferable: the goal of democracy is liberty, as opposed to wealth (the goal of oligarchy), high culture and obedience to law (the goal of aristocracy), and self-protection (the goal of tyranny). He points out that the constitution with the most ‘scope for friendship and justice between ruler and subjects’ is democracy, ‘where the citizens being equal have many things in common’.” Perhaps some of my current dissatisfaction with the government in the UK is that it it seems to be favouring oligarchy?
The most relevant section of the book, from my perspective, was around mortality. Aristotle did not believe in an after life but he did believe in how we make the most of the life we have.
“Aristotle’s distinction between surviving biologically and living a deliberated life directed towards happiness can therefore help you sympathise with the homeless and the hungry, refugees and exiles, the disabled and the mortally ill, and with abused animals. So there is no point in feeling guilty about having sufficient time to think about becoming the Best Possible You. The most ethically developed person is the most likely to want to help the disadvantaged and the damaged. Be grateful that you are in this fortunate position and get on with Project Happiness.” He also emphasised that leisure was much more important then work. “The objective of work is usually to sustain our lives biologically, an objective we share with other animals. But the objective of leisure can and should be to sustain other aspects of our lives which make us uniquely human: our souls, our minds, our personal and civic relationships. Leisure is therefore wasted if we do not use it purposively.” Also, how important the arts were for humans: “History offers us a gymnasium for developing our ethical muscles. And so does fiction.”
Edith Hall’s writing brought Aristotle’s thinking to life for me. I made copious notes of which only a portion are here as an appetiser to make you want to devour for yourself the feast of thinking it provides.
I had made the decision to have a shorter day as, after about 100km, supply points and places to stay became sparse. So I set my sight on Acri.
First it was important to have breakfast – cereal, fruit, bread, cheese, meat, coffee – in fact everything I could lay my hands on.
It turned out to be day of climbing to hill top towns and navigating gravel paths and even having someone with a chainsaw cut me a path through fallen trees.
One thing I did notice in Italy was that vehicles, in the main, tended to be respectful of cyclists. Someone had said that the law meant the bigger vehicle or least vulnerable vehicle was always considered to be at fault in an accident. If true, it seems quite an incentive to take care? There were also plenty of signs exhorting drivers to give cyclists space when overtaking.
I made it to Acri and managed to book myself into the Supersonik Hotel. When I arrived it looked utterly deserted and shut. A man in the street helped me rouse the elderly couple who were in charge and I eventually found myself in a big room with a super hot shower. The old couple told me about the Pizza restaurant up the road. I made my way there and demolished a pizza while recharging and resetting my Garmin before getting to bed.
I stepped out into the street and was assailed by the aroma of baking. Just around the corner was a bakery and at 5am in the morning it was open to customers. I bought the most enormous sugared doughnut. I should have bought two (at least!). It was delicious and helped me start the day.
It was another ride into the dawn but I had to suppress the thought I was going to finish. It was overwhelming and if I didn’t catch it I choked.
And then I saw it: a sign for Etna!
On the Garmin I think it showed 4 climbs left to do. One of them took me into a village where I was able to have a second breakfast of a cappuccino and a sticky, toffee coated twisted pastry.
The views continued to be wonderful.
I was ticking off the hills even if my physical and mental state was beginning to resemble the building I briefly parked Rocinante next to.
And then the Garmin simply showed one climb remaining.
I was on the last climb up Etna. The last climb of the ride.
Now, previously, every climb over 16 or so km had sections that were flat or even downhill. Juliana had obviously kept the best hill to last. Etna never relented. There was no easy section.
I was out of food and still had several km to climb when I turned a corner and saw this stall, selling honey, laid out.
I stopped and was offered a taste of every type of honey on sale. I decided to buy a small pot of pistachio laced honey and some boiled sweets.
It was only as I cycled away I realised that handing over 20 euros for that was insane!
I had fallen for a honey trap!
About 2km from the top of the climb I saw a waiting cyclist who greeted me with a cheer and a smile. It was Winnie. An Italian, an industrial chemist living in the Netherlands, she had started the 2VS but after some terrifying incidents with dogs (surrounded by 8 huge snarling sheepdogs and then getting bitten by another dog) she had scratched. She escorted me the last bit of the climb to the cafe at the top of the road and near the summit of Etna.
She also took some great black and white photos.
I think this one sums up the ‘effort on Etna’.
After a nice cup of tea and a slice of Margherita pizza and having pulled on warm clothes for the descent we started down through the lava fields passing the very dramatic scene of a house, half submerged in the solidified lava.
Then I was in Nicolisi, greeted by half a dozen or so participants, cheering and thrusting a delicious Arancini into my hands and a wonderful cold beer.
It was all over.
Race stats:
1600km
36000m of climb
Total Racers: 74
Scratched: 31% ( 23 )
Finished: 47% ( 35 )
My stats:
Postscript.
I spent the next 24hrs in the company of other finishers, Fuzz and John who were the only pair to finish, Winnie, Eric a French rider from the pyrenees who had got t-boned by a car at the Ferry terminal and Laurent, the lantern rouge, who explained that he rode to enjoy it and therefore started after breakfast at 8am and rode until 8pm when he would find a hotel and dinner. To be honest he wasn’t that far behind me!
I was in a daze of wonder at having completed the route and in a state of intense hunger. For the next few days I ate and ate finding it hard to satiate my hunger. I must have built up a massive calorie deficit and when I got home, after a week of massive eating, I was exactly the same weight as when I left for the event.
Physically I was also extremely tired.
x
I flew back from Catania on the Saturday night, arriving at Paula’s, my sister in law’s house, around midnight. Linda joined me on Monday and on Tuesday we went to Malvern to a Spa for two nights. It was exactly what I needed. I was worried about getting the bike home as it was all boxed up and wouldn’t go in the car with all the passengers – until Linda said, “it is a shame you don’t have the bike rack on the car”. Of course I did! All I had to do was assemble the bike and lock it on the roof of the car and that is how me and Rocinante made it home.
“Why?”
It is hard to explain the motivation to do such events and I have found it difficult to answer the questions, “why do you do it?”, “don’t you get bored?”, “what do you think about?”. Then I saw this post and it brilliantly summed it up for me:
Appreciations.
Joe Whittaker has been a source of bikes, advice and repairs for two decades. Jim Sutherland has been a source of encouragement and support for even longer. Jerry Clough and Jim Forrer sent me motivational messages (although the WhatsApp from Jerry did cause me some consternation!). Niel Copeland in a short space of time got me to a place which I firmly believe made it possible for me to finish. Most of all I owe everything to Linda, David and Alice.
This was the biggest challenge I have ever undertaken on my own and I am immensely proud to be a 2VS Finisher.
Writing this up some weeks later I struggle to remember what, if anything, I had for breakfast. Its as likely to be some sort of bar or chocolate from the food pouches on the bike. I knew I was going to make the ferry today but I wasn’t sure how far I would get across Sicily. I was tired, had lost weight but somehow, each morning, as soon as I got on the bike I got into the ‘flow’.
Towns were becoming more frequent but I was still traversing a national park to get over the last climbs until the long and sinuous descent to the ferry.
The ferry to Messina goes from Villa San Giovanni, so to come across a turn in the road to Villa S.G. was energising.
And then I was there – at the ferry, buying my ticket, getting on board, buying food and watching the approaching shoreline
I didn’t have time to eat all the food I bought, just the arancini and the deep fired block of mozzarella and almost left the pizza behind. At the last moment I got a bag from the counter and wrapped the pizza up to put under the straps on the bag at the back of my bike.
There was a steady climb out of Messina and then a descent to the southern coastline where I could put my head down and my elbows on the tribars and speed along the flat. It was warm so an ice cream seemed like a good idea. The proprietor asked if I was doing the 2VS! I guess it would be an obvious place to stop for all those who proceeded me.
As ever Juliana threw in a little surprise which was an off road climb up some steps linking two different roads! You can see the pizza strapped to the back of my bike.
I was calculating how much further I could ride and as dusk fell I realised I didn’t have enough power in my light to take me through the night, I probably didn’t have enough power in my legs either and it would be better to finish the event in daylight, the next day.
I tried to find somewhere on booking.com but everything seemed booked up or well off route. I resorted to asking a friend by WhatsApp to research places along the route and they found a place in Villa Franca which I booked. The owners messaged me via the app with the code to get in and I eventually arrived after 9pm knackered but delighted I had kept the pizza as there was an oven in the apartment and I was able to heat it up and not have to go out to find something to eat. There seemed to be a slight problem as I could not find any sheets for the bed. Then I remembered that I had a sleeping bag – so I just slept on top of the bed in my bag that night.