It is a little while since I last wrote a blog post. For those who are following my fortunes, you may recall I left you with the dramatic cliffhanger with your hero (!) incapacitated with a crippling bad back, a diagnosis of sciatica and the prospect of a suspension in training and the worrying thought of putting back on all those pounds I had lost sweating (and freezing my nuts off) on countless training rides. Cue lingering look into camera, pained expression and a thumping Eastenders ending.... 'Dum dum dum dumdumdumdum'.(Forgive the over long sentence).
Well, things have moved on a touch.
1. Miracle Cures
Sciatica...inflammation of the nerves at the base of the spine...causing painful, shooting pains in the lower back and down the legs. Occasionally incapacitating and needed physio.
I was looking at a long lay off. Two days of agony and a trip to the doctor and I was worried. Every lifting action caused a pain to fire across my back and down my legs. It was agony. For two days.
I didn't actually do anything to treat myself other than not to bath my children for a couple of nights (boy did they smell!....Actually my wife and our care workers took care of that activity and were soundly soaked, then punched, kicked, headbutted and elbowed by our boisterous and over excited twins as they were dried and dressed - I should get sciatica more often). I had a bit of a lie down and rubbed some Deep Heat (and its Indonesian miracle cure counterpart, 'Counterpain'), in the affected areas.
What d'ya know? On the third day the left side was pain free and fully operational. The right side had a weak twinge, but hardly noticeable. By day 4, all signs of pain had vanished and I had the back of Geoff Capes (though a little hairier - I know, we've shared and compared) once again. Miraculous. I put the temporary injury down to a combination of pushing a little too hard on the bike (always a silly thing to do) and sitting on the saddle in such a way that I pinched a nerve or two.
Anyway, right as rain and I decided to tackle a nemesis that loomed large in my thoughts and had done for many a year.
2. Vertiginous Slopes
If you look up from the bottom of your stairs, it doesn't look too difficult or daunting a climb, does it?. You probably climb it 10 or more times a day without too much discomfort. If you were to take a bicycle and attempt to ride up it (forget the stairs,imagine it were a smooth tarmaced road), you'd fall off / backwards / move so slowly you'd fall off or backwards / become so breathless and exhausted after 2 metres, you'd just give up, get off and walk.
The truth is, anything over a 5% gradient (that is you gain 5 metres in height for every 100 metres distance travelled), is considered by the casual cyclist as 'getting tough, making me blow a bit, causing the knees to tremble and rapidly increasing the heart rate'.
When you get to anything over 10% (i.e. 10metres in height gained for every 100 metres covered - I hope you are following this), road atlases start to indicate steepness with a dreaded > an echelon to be scared of. At this point many cyclists will, if they haven't pre-planned an alternative route to avoid such unpleasantness, attempt a few perfunctory pedal pushes, select lowest gear, struggle a bit more and accept the inevitable. Time to get off and push.
As you scour the atlas for amazing cycling routes, full of beautiful tree lined, bendy roads, past babbling brooks, through scented orchards and past idyllic cottages with duck ponds and village greens and games of cricket unfolding to polite applause and cucumber sandwiches on roads flat as a pancake, there is one sight that all cyclists fear among others.
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The double echelon. For roads (therefore slopes / hills) over 15%. (Come on do the maths...15 metres gained in 100 metres covered...well done, have a biscuit). Such hill climbs are the stuff of nightmares for the lay cyclist, the weekend amateur, the charity cyclist and indeed, many of the professional cyclists. Bikes and people were not meant to propel themselves against the inexorable pull of gravity, heaving and panting, straining and swearing up ridiculously angled slopes....I mean, whose bright idea was it to build a bloody road up and over this great big Berg? Why not drill a hole (aka a tunnel) or go round it...like in Switzerland? Hang on...the Swiss have a penchant for going upwards too.
There are many such climbs dotted throughout the UK. And one of them lies around 12 miles from my door.
Ankerdine Hill
Ankerdine Hill is not quite Mont Ventoux or Alpe du Huez. It isn't 30km long and doesn't have 21 switchback corners named after famous cyclists (who have won the stage up Alpe du Huez in the Tour de France). But what it lacks in length (around a mile or so), it makes up for in steepness. As you approach the village of Knightwick and spy the turning that takes you down past the Talbot pub and a sharp 90 degree right hand bend at the bottom of the climb, the sign reads;
Ankerdine Hill 17%
I expect the regulars in the Talbot take a sip of their Old Speckled Hen as another cyclist turns the corner and starts the climb up the hill, look at their wizened drinking pals and not a word passes their lips - just a sad shake of the head and a sorrowful look of pity in their eyes. They know what is about to happen.
And so it was that I found myself, not 3 days after being crippled with sciatica, attempting to climb a 17% hill on 42 year old legs and in full knowledge of what was before me. I had driven up the hill many a time. In fact my old friend Simon used to live half way up the hill. It is a beast in a car, a nightmare to walk up, but to cycle up it......
Ankerdine Hill was a categorized climb in the 2008 Tour of Britain (could have been 2007, but who's counting). The professionals skipped up it, with barely a puff of their cheeks and just an occassional rise from the saddle to 'dance on the pedals', to make it look as if it was 'quite tough'.
Quite tough. I managed to start well, but within 5 metres I was changing down the gears to one comfortable enough to allow me to keep moving forward. This I did well for another 100 metres. I made the stupid mistake of thinking 'this isn't too bad', before looking up and ahead of me the road just took off. A kink in the road and the road lifted, as if shunted vertically by a cataclysmic seismic event.
So, this is what 17% is like then? I had very quickly shifted gears and was soon in my lowest gear, legs pedalling frantically, thumb trying again and again for an even lower gear, which didn't exist.
I settled into a rhythm, relaxed my grip on the handlebars, sat up and began to breath more steadily. My progress was both painful and slow, but to my surprise, the months of regular training on the bike had built up stamina, fitness and strength to a point where I managed to succeed in climbing the whole of Ankerdine Hill without stopping. Something I had never thought I would do. Job done. Smug grin displaying fly-caked teeth from being gritted during the steepest sections. Happy as Larry, whoever he is.
I then considered what I had witnessed at the end of a stage of the Tirren Adriatico race a few days before. Cadel Evans won a stage into Macerata...typical stage race...178km of racing finsihing with a 2.3km climb up 18% slopes into the town centre. Those Italians loved building towns atop lofty hills. While I wheezed and panted my way up 17%, Cadel and the boys were dogfighting with each other up slopes most of us would simply get off the bike and wait for a bus to take us up. They were sprinting UP the slopes, they were attacking and counter attacking. At the back of the peleton, it looked like the other cyclists in the race had suddenly encountered a 20cm layer of treacle through which they were obliged to cycle. UP. UP . UP. No one got off, well at least the cameras weren't there to record that indignity.
There are other, steeper climbs - the infamous Kemmelberg in the Ghent - Wevelgem classic race...20% up and down (nasty crashes) COBBLED roads. But the UK has it's fair share too. Last year's Tour of Britain concluded a long stage through Wales nd over the Brecon Beacons in Swansea...a nice finish by the sea...must be sea lvel? No. Gentlemen, today you will be riding up Constituiton Hill....'what...no way, you're having a laugh..say it's not true...'
Nearly 30% up a cobbled street...reputedly, the steepest in Britain. Now that's cruel.
Thankfully, my route to Dublin steers clear of Swansea, though there will be plenty of > and even a few (not too many I hope) >> hills along the way. I am looking forward to meeting their acquaintance.
3. Quizzology
In my continuing efforts to raise money for Scope, I held a charity quiz night last Saturday. A decent turn out of 50 people came along to listen to and try to answer some fiendishly difficult questions I posed over a number of rounds...sport, entertainment, the arts, music etc.
It was a very successful evening and the half time break was filled with some fantastic fish n chips provided by the Golden Gourmet. If you are ever in Worcester, pop along and see Paul in the Golden Gourmet for the best fish n chips in the city (that is a long way from the sea).
The quiz raised £400 for Scope and was a fun evening with good friends and new friends. I couldn't have done it without the help of my partner in charitable crime, Simon Whitton - he of previous blog posts, my ever faithful and willing Passpartout. Simon came up from Cardiff and gave me unstinting support throughout the evening.
I had two new Passpartouts at the event also. Dan and Nathan Coll were absolutely brilliant and ran the bar, collected the fish and chips and helped the whole evening go without a hitch. Their prize for helping in organising and running the quiz was a Scope T-Shirt each. In fact Dan, as a member of the support crew with Simon on the trip to Dublin and back, has had his very own red Scope T-shirt made for him. Now, you can't say fairer than that.
A huge thanks to Simon, Dan and Nathan. I owe you a big night out on the curry.
However, the evening was made even more amazing with a generous and extremely welcome offer.....
4. A Sudden Fondness For Caravans
Every now and then something happens that completely restores your faith in the goodness of people. There are some wonderful, kind and helpful people out there in this often selfish, cruel and unkind world.
At the end of the evening, Simon presented me with a business card from one of the guests at the quiz. It said 'Mike Lake, Director, 3 Counties Caravans'. I was a bit confused, but Simon explained that Mike was offering to help us in our challenge.
I had spoken to Mike before the start of the quiz and had taken along a wall map, on which I had highlighted the route we are going to take in June. Mike was very interested and gave me some sage advice about the route in Snowdonia.
So, I was taken aback when Simon said Mike was going to lend us a Motorhome, with a tank of diesel, for the duration of the trip. We were intended piling everything in the back of Simon's Ford Focus and if required (ie, getting on and off the ferries), cramming the four of us as best we could into the car. In addition, we were planning on taking tents (at last count 3 for the 4 of us as Simon is world-renowned for his snoring and needs to be in one of his own. In fact the BBC monitoring service in Caversham thought his snoring was a bombing raid on Tripoli).
A motorhome will enable Simon and Dan to drive in comfort and for us to sleep soundly in comfortable berths, stock up a fridge and prepare breakfast and countless cups of tea. Luxury!
I will be cycling over to see Mike at his company on Friday and am looking forward to inspecting a motorhome and imagining what it will be like....(to be overtaken by a grinning Simon and Dan in their motorhome as Oliver and I struggle up yet another 15% climb).
I am very grateful to Mike for wanting to support us in our challenge. I was, for a short while, speechless. Gestures like this don't come around that often. Mike, if you are reading this, many thanks. We will look after her and I promise Oliver and I won't sit in the back the whole way and get out from time to time to pose for 'look we are really cycling up this mountain' photos. We will be cycling and quietly cursing under our breath at the lucky b*st&$ds ahead of us in the motorhome.
As a result, I have now begun to develop a much greater fondness for caravans, Winnebagos, motorhomes, camper vans and the like.
Jeremy Clarkson, James May and Richard Hammond would not be impressed.
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