The Hell of the North

Author: JSW

When: Saturday 29^th June 2014

Distance: 65.58 miles

Total ascent: 7835 feet

Attendees: Café Racers – Dom, Adam, Si, Jamie. GARFELTIZED – Josh, Rich, Tony

Climb points from the Toughest Climbs Book 1 (Old Testament) & Book 2 (New Testament): 30.

Useful links:  No.10 Coffee Shop  North Pennine Cycling

Planned several months ago, the dreams riders signing on to this event had was of minimal wind, a dry day and warm but not too warm conditions. This day was proof that sometimes dreams really do come true! As the riders came from the 4 corners of the North East to meet in Wolsingham at the Number 10 Café there was almost an early ride casualty. Adam forgetting his shoes. A quick return trip whilst the riders steeled themselves with coffees and the team were ready to tackle the North Pennines “Hell of the North” challenge.

A ride with legendary status, your reporter (Josh Wood) tried to track down some quotes from the pro peleton regarding this route and I think you'll agree, the following quotes speak volumes:

Mark Cavendish - “Who are you and what are you doing in my house?!”.

Dave Brailsford - “SECURITY!!!”

Alberto Contador - “sí, es un recorrido muy duro. demasiado difícil para mí”.

A lovely 11 mile warm up through the Valley past Stanhope took us to Westgate and the first hill of the day (and many riders agreed the toughest). A relentless beast which the New Testament gives 8/10 (Peat Hill / Scutterhill Bank). Any rest at the top was short lived as riders were met with the stomach clenching view of the next two climbs awaiting them. An arrow straight slog up 15-20% gradients followed by Chapel Fell – the highest tarmaced and accessible road in England (9/10 Old Testament). Before the peleton graced Chapel Fell however, the first of two stops was had at the Chatterbox Cafe in St. John's Chapel. A café of such excellent quality – I feel a moment must be taken to appreciate the glory that is this café. Coffee top ups aplenty, an owner with enthusiasm and high levels of bike psych with some SUPERB sugary/savoury treats – what more could you ask for?!

Fears over Chapel Fell proved upfounded as a lack of any kind of wind made it a pleasure to ride. Team jerseys looking resplendent as the peloton snaked up the road. The summit of which offered our first glance of the ever imposing Death Star (Great Dunn Fell). Climb number 4 was a dream of a gentle gradient leading to an equally superb descent. This stretch was memorable for a display of high end bike fashion from Adam – the unveiling of a new maroon Rapha rain cape. Worth more than most of the teams bikes – it was a thing to behold and Adam's prayers of rain just so he could wear it were answered. Seriously though – I think we should all get one!

Next, to Nenthead via the climb of Garragil and the descent of Downgang Hush (7/10, New Testament) and the immediate ascent of Killhope Cross and it's imfamous false summits (8/10, New Testament). A glorious descent past future day trip spot Killhope Lead Mining Museum and back to St. John's Chapel. All the team were starting to feel heavy legged at this point with Chairman Whelan taking the opportunity to do poo number 2 of the trip (this café also has excellent facilities). Several riders tucked in to delicious egg and bacon butties (some people getting an extra slice of bacon for a small delay in preparation!) although any pleasure in this was soon removed by the following climbs of Well Bank and the Traverse of Doom to the top of Scutterhill Bank. No food was spilt by the roadside thankfully as digestive systems performed admirably. A final gentle climb back to Stanhope saw the team complete the 'tick' of the online version of the route. But not for these men just getting the tick – on no. They wanted more and got it in the shape of Dolly Parton! The climb of Unthank Bank (New Testament – 5/10) could have been transported direct from the Alps – the best and widest switchbacks the North East has to offer and with the background music of Dolly Parton's 'Jolene' to inspire riders up the slopes, it was just like being in a high energy spinning class in Texas!

And that was it. 10 climbs. 30 points from the Climbs book. 14 pairs of wrecked legs. 7 heroes.

[click photo for the full gallery]

The Daffodils Sportive

Author: JL

When: Saturday 26th April 2014

Where: Thirsk

Distance: 88 miles

Peloton number: 5

Disturbingly early hour, check; school car park, check; semi-naked men donning lycra, check. Nothing sinister going on here, just another sportive. The Daffodils from Velo 29, a choice of routes up to 88 miles in length, signing up some weeks ago the thought of 88 miles and an(other) ascent of Blakey Bank, seemed like a walk in the park. Doubts are insidiously undermining motivation, the poor weather forecast for later in the day providing a get out clause before we’ve even began. Four fifths of our peloton are wearing Cafe Racer’s tops, unfortunately hidden beneath windproofs, worn because the temperature is rather colder than we’d anticipated. Once Chairman Whelan had finished draining his peanut sized bladder we are ready for the off, dipping our lanyards on the magic box, myself, The Chairman, Adam, Jamie and Howard sped through the school gates in tight formation, immediately grinding to a halt,no idea whether to turn left or right, lost within sight of the start line,. Luckily some real cyclists showed us the way and we restarted heading along a residential street with a few dozen other riders, eventually reaching the picturesque village of Kilburn, this time turning away from the White Horse Bank. Some pleasantly quiet lanes led us to the first food stop in Church Houses, conveniently situated at the foot of the day's main event - Blakey Bank. The forecast rain arrived, although nothing like as severe as the weathermen predicted, mere drizzle, no justification for taking the bailout route avoiding Blakey Bank.

Unable to prevaricate any longer, we left the feed station, pockets bulging with refined sugar products and joined the long line of cyclists grimacing and gurning slowly upward, until the photographer appeared when it was time to turn that frown upside down for a vital fraction of a second, click, and back to the sex face. Regrouping at the top we all agreed it had been "not too bad this time" despite the breathless profanities being uttered. Apparently I’m not the only who believes in “sweary power”. Riding into a misty drizzle, we passed the Lion Inn, some more reluctantly than others - the anorexics have yet to appreciate the efficacy of beer in their nutrition and hydration regime. From Rosedale Head the route took us to the village of Rosedale Abbey, usually a welcome few miles in the gravity assisted direction, the weather decided we would be ruined with too much enjoyment and hit us with a headwind and some driving rain. A peleton was formed and we showed the weather who was boss - mainly by hiding behind Howard. Things improved the lower we went and it wasn't long before we where lurking outside the public convenience waiting for Chairman Whelan, who spends so much time in these particular facilities the locals think he's cottaging. Especially Cedric the farmhand for whom a pair of Lycra clad buttocks is a refreshing change from hard to catch ewes. Or his sister.

From Rosedale Abbey the route eschewed ‘heinous’ Heygate and ‘chew the bars’ Chimney, banks, opting for the gentler route toward Cropton, then Lastingham and Hutton Le Hole, heading South again, down into the flat(ish)lands. The broom wagon followed us for some time, like a vulture waiting to pick off the weak and straggling. Did this mean we were last? Surely not, we’re The Cafe Racers. By the time we rolled in to Hovingham for the food stop and inevitable Chairman’s toilet break, the sun was blazing and layers were being shed, at some point Howard had formed a solitary breakaway and pressed on to the finish while we loaded up with more refined sugar products just in case a sudden attack of malnutrition might strike us within the next 20 miles.

Back on the chain gang we began the climb out of Hovingham, which felt almost as difficult as Blakey Bank, tired legs and quite possibly hypoglycemia as insulin flooded our bloodstreams in response to the carb overload just inflicted. Adam and The Chairman suddenly got a second wind, possibly as a result of EPO doping although such unfounded speculation is mere gossip-mongering and as such has no place on the Cafe Racer’s blog. It’s only a possibility. Gradually the gruesome twosome pulled away from me and Jamie, who were riding in the true sportive spirit of non-competitiveness, and disappeared into the distance. Counting down the miles on the Garmin now, every turn of the pedals propelling us to the finish and suddenly we were back at the school and a disturbingly empty car park. Perhaps we really were last? Lanyards dipped, times confirmed, goody bags collected, we shoved some more food down our throats and congratulated ourselves on a good days riding.

Times: Here

Route: Here

Pictures:Scroll down page

The Edale Epic

Author: JSW
When: Saturday 15th March 2014
Where: Edale
Distance: 45-50 miles depending on route taken
Peloton number: 9 (standard Grand Tour rider numbers)

It was always going to be a memorable day – Chairman Whelan had insisted on a weekend training camp (in no way related to an upcoming wedding date) in order for riders to meet each other, bond and get some crucial early season fitness.  The mid-March date was scheduled to ensure that the weather would not be raining, snowy, icy or windy.  However, Storm from X-Men was also invited to attend and had different ideas.

The ride began as every ride should – 9 men waking up together in the finest bunk barn accommodation that Edale had to offer.  Similar to the hotels used by Team Sky during the Tour de France the bunk barn had all mod-cons and a good night’s sleep was had by all.  Team porridge was made by Josh who once again proved that when it comes to oats he is peerless!  Chairman Whelan’s provision of berries, fruit, seeds and honey was key to boosting riders health for a long season ahead.

The ride got off to a furious pace with the 10 miles to from Edale to Curbar covered in record time – rumours of a strong tail wind through the Hope Valley (often used by Mark Cavendish for motor pacing) were rubbished as there was not a breath of wind in the sky.

The first major ascent of the day was Curbar Gap – featuring in Simon Warren’s 100 toughest climbs (volume 1) – with all riders ascending without trouble.  A hard start to climb to Curbar Village eases slightly as you reach the boulders and open vistas before the gradient ramps up again as you take a sweeping right hand bend to finish at a car park.  A small split in the peloton was re-joined at the descent of Curbar with Damien putting down a solo TT to regain contact.  

The team then headed into the regal Chatsworth Estate – a black ribbon of tarmac passing through Her Majesty’s estate – views to the left offered riders the finest in English aristocratic architecture – to the right a flock/herd/gaggle/school of deer.  Riders were overtaken during this stretch by Her Majesty on a super-aggressive Specialized TT bike with full dura-ace electronic gear set up.

Some minor mapping issues (in no way the fault of the route planner…) were resolved as the group sped to Bakewell.  A small group split saw the main bunch find the finest Austrian café this side of Vienna (Tiroler Stuberl Austrian Coffee Shop & Sausage Importer) whilst other riders found a local café and takeaway Bakewell slices.  This stop also gave opportunity for the Team Support Vehicle/Directeur Sportive (Dom and Adam - who had been providing superb moral support throughout the day) chance to catch up with the riders.

Bakewell was left behind for the unexpectedly beautiful climb of Monsal Head and views of the viaduct.  This was the point in the ride when the weather began to play a major role in proceedings.  A vicious headwind was blowing from the West – making even small gradients and flats challenging – the decision was taken to regroup in the Hope Valley coffee shop for caffeine, cake and a team talk about the upcoming Winnat’s Pass (only 2 miles away).  An 8/10 hill in the Toughest Climb Bible (Volume 1), it is a hill which is relentlessly hard with no points to rest.  Climbing from Castleton, the bottom gear is engaged early and then never left.  Hopes that the wind may blow over the top of the pass were soon unfounded with the wind whipped through the valley making conditions similar to a F1 wind tunnel testing session / the apocalypse.  7 riders attempted the hill – similar to the Fellowship of the Ring heading through the Shire -  only 3 were able to reach the summit and their efforts on this hill will become part of Café Racers legend.  Pete Greenan (Gandelf), Simon Whelan (Frodo Baggins) and Andrew Porter (Legolas) somehow made it to the top via some lewd road graffiti left by some ruffians on a stag do.  This achievement should not be understated – an already hard hill made virtually impossible.  Chapeau gentlemen – chapeau.

Riders reunited in varying states of euphoria, shock and awe at the Edale bunk barn for a night of curry, scrabble and pink wafer biscuits.  A superb ride and a venue which should be used again for future rides.

Click the Strong Team photo for the full album:

The Battle of Bransdale

When: 18/01/14
Distance: 54.7 miles
Elevation Gain: 4,615 ft
Café stop: Porters Café, Helmsley
Route: Here
Photos: Here

Attempting to preserve the winter plan of a decent team ride every month, plans were laid to make battle with the uncharted tarmac of Bransdale. As with any great battle, there were to be conscientious objectors- men not tough enough to handle the throes of war, the bullets of rain and the steep gradients of Blakey Bank. Excuses arrived in the Chairman's inbox thick and fast. On the morning of the ride, I sat on my sofa - bowl of porridge and coffee in hand - watching the weather forecast and wondered why I on earth I didn't do the same.

With a small (but fierce) army of three, I tentatively put forward a motion to abbreviate the ride somewhat and start at The Lion Inn up on Blakey Ridge. No opposition - phew. We departed from the start line into the thickest of fog with front and rear lights flashes away, a disco of cyclists disappearing into the abyss.

The first few 'easy' miles of the ride were met with the usual headwind confusion of why we were peddling so hard to go downhill, and, of course the mutterings of what the bloody hell we were doing here. Descending into Rosedale Abbey the fog cleared and the wind dropped. The Christmas turkey still sitting heavy in my legs, I was thankful of the rare exclusion of Chimney Bank; we rode straight on through undulating waves of gloriously laid tarmac and turned right onto some unridden roads for everyone present. On mile 25 of the 'easy first half' I was longing for a warm fire, strong coffee and a double cake - a stark reminder that summer fitness is often taken for granted. Thankfully in the blink of an eye, we were rolling into Helmsley and parking up at my favourite south moors café, Porters Coffee Shop.

On first impression, Porters appears to be the ultimate anti-cyclists café. A polished wooden floor dares you to venture into the seating area. If you make it through alive, or with dignity in tact if you're lucky, you are greeted by lunching ladies discussing pesto recipes, a lycra-melting coal fire and a few older gents taking time to glance up from their Daily Mail to look down their nose at you. Despite all of the above, the staff are more than welcoming and it's a lovely little café, although I was deeply disappointed to be brought out the small corner piece from my favourite chocolate and ginger flapjack traybake. They are officially on their first warning.

We prised ourselves away from the coma-inducing fireplace, withdrew our swords of courage and headed into battle with Bransdale. Of course, we were immediately confronted with a hill. The first of many I might add. My earlier thoughts of getting back before dark were now irrelevant as the Fog of Doom had returned and we couldn't see anything anyway. The wind had picked up, the temperature had dropped and the rain was on the increase (it had actually been raining all day). This could mean one thing and one thing only: someone was about to get a puncture. More specifically, me. All three of us cack-handedly held the wheel while John 'tested out' a CO2 canister. Much confusion arose in the following 5 seconds as to why Adam's part of the tyre was rock hard and John's was flat. On about second 4, Adam had worked the answer to this conundrum. On second 5, there was an almighty bang. Luckily, John's youthful looks were unscathed. We decided to use more traditional methods with tube #2 and headed on meet another hill.

Bransdale is one of the Moors best kept secrets. It was always excluded from rides because it doesn't go anywhere, and the siren calling of the Hawnby-Osmotherley road from Helmsley is too hard to resist. Wide, open moor top roads, a distinct lack of traffic, beautiful vistas (probably, but all I saw was fog) and an abundance of tough little climbs made for a brilliant section. We joined the Farndale road as the weather perked up. Mixed feelings indeed, as this meant that Blakey Bank was 5 miles away. A worry wee, emergency gel and requests for local taxi firm's telephone numbers followed.

Blakey Bank is a tough climb. It is even harder when you have a suitcase of excuses. All of the following made an appearance: Winter unfitness.  A heavy winter bike with a lack of gears. An earlier battering of headwinds and in Adam's case, wearing the wrong type of support bra. In the tender moments when failure crossed my mind, a quote for the sadly absent, always optimistic Josh Wood sprung to mind: "Never, never, never give up". Or was it Winston Churchill? Either way, a team ascent in the most testing of circumstances was a fine effort.

On reaching the summit we discovered that the fog hadn't left the pub since the morning, something that we also should have considered. A giant portion of food and a swift half of Black Sheep (does this count towards training for the stag do?) was well deserved.

All in all it was a class day out, despite the odds being stacked against us.  Those of you who deserted us will have to make do with resitting this test in the summer when the weather is glorious. That'll learn you.

Simon.