To the Emerald Isle...and beyond

Time is flying.

It is only 2 days until the biggest physical challenge of my life.

I have climbed Kilimanjaro with a torn cartilage in my knee in sub zero temperatures and 'long drop' toilets that can only be described as 'indescribable' - a stench worse than a final year student's fetid, putrid, rank and vile socks.

I have cycled vast distances...Worcester to London and back; Worcester to Liverpool and back (but I got off the bike at Kidderminster and (great idea this) ran the 19 miles that remained; Worcester to Cardiff and ...not back. I took the train. The hills and an intolerable saddle sore persuaded me to let the train take the strain.

I have also done marathon 'back-to-back' shifts at one of London's busiest train stations - Kings Cross. Finishing a 2-10pm shift, I clambered aboard the 22:00hrs InterCity East Coast 225 service and tumbled out in Peterborough, to collapse in a heap on the sofa at a touch after 11pm, a reviving cuppa to fortify me for approximately 3 hours sleep. Alarm clock rudely sounds at 3am, urging me to rouse, shave, dress, wolf down some Weetabix and drive in a zombie-esque fashion to Peterborough station to catch the '4:10am God-Awful All Stations Service to Kings Cross'...to stagger grumpily into the office to begin a 6am early shift.

Give me the delights of a long drop toilet at 5,000m in sub zero temperature on Kili over the stupor of a back-to-back shift at the Cross anyday.


But, in 2 days time I will be undertaking a challenge equal to all of the above rolled into one.

420 miles / 670km in 6 days. Cycling from Worcester to Dublin and back in support of my daughter Milla who has severe cerbral palsy and raising money for Scope, the cerebral palsy charity. Dublin and back by bike. 3 countries, 3 mountain ranges, barely a flat road for the entire route....all at the spritely age of 42. An age when most pro-cyclists have unclipped their cleats from their pedals and dismounted for the last time...

Who decided on such an audacious and ambitious challenge? Which muppet thought it would be a good idea to wear Lycra for 6 days and venture into the unknown, the forgotten (Holyhead, Pembroke, Rosslare) and pit onesself against the might of nature (lent a hand by the devilish force of gravity). Oh, I remember now. A little evening with one's mind and I, that's me, had the inspiration. I'm full of great ideas.

What am I letting myself in for? Let me break it down into bite-sized chunks;

1. A bucket load of PAIN


2. An inordinate amount of SWEATING


3. An incalculable amount of CLIMBING


4. A ridiculous number of HILLS & MOUNTAINS


5. The joy of WIND (both flatulent and meterological)


6. The blissful British SUMMER WEATHER (forecast to be showery, cool [11C] and windy)


7. An obesity inducing level of CALORIES per day


8. The painful prospect of SADDLE SORES


9. Permanent NIPPLE ERECTNESS


10. NUMB WILLY and (thanks to my cousin Ian for this information) ERECTILE DISFUNCTION

But on the other had what will I get out of this trip;

1. Raising a LIFE CHANGING sum of money for SCOPE


2. Completing an incredibly difficult challenge and a real sense of ACHIEVEMENT


3. The chance to cycle through some of England, Wales and Ireland's most STUNNING landscapes


4. The chance to get a fantastic UNDISTURBED and peaceful night's sleep


5. The excuse to stuff myself with enough DONOUGHTS, MARS BARS and CALORIES as possible


6. An amazing road trip with great FRIENDS


7. A chance to visit DUBLIN and IRELAND


8. A chance to REMINISCE in HOLYHEAD (I was the London based manager for this outpost of the railway Empire and made occasional trips to 'The One Horse Town, Where The Horse Had Long Since Left)


9. The enjoyment and novelty of SLIPSTREAMING (ie riding behind) SOMEONE ELSE (ie Oliver) and conserving 20% of my energy. 400 miles of sitting on someone's wheel (I'll go in front for the 20 miles of downhill)


10. The possibility of PRETENDING to be a PROFESSIONAL CYCLIST. (I believe we are picking up the EPO and TESTOSTERONE in Brecon...can't beat a few performance enhancing drugs, can you?) Actually, my only drug will be a Dextrose tablet and a swig of Lucozade Sport.

The weather Gods are conspiring against us at the moment and the glorious June weather we were promised (in black and white) has not materialised. Despite this, my friend Oliver arrives tomorrow. I still don't think he really knows what he is letting himself in for.

He told me that he had been cycling to work and back (50 mile round trip); but the problem was that the roads in his part of Northern Germany were as flat as a Pfannkuchen. Keine Bergen.

Oliver, I think the British took all the German hills as some sort of curious agreement to stay out of the Euro Zone (we know the Germans and French don't want us to use Euros....it'd make your holidays in Cornwall a bit too expensive).

We have hills, in abundance. Hills to be afraid of. Hills to look up, craning your neck for the summit some 5 miles atop a 25% gradient and to inwardly scream, 'What the hell I am doing? That is just stupid....now where's the Motorhome; I am getting a lift, noone need ever know' (What happens in Snowdonia, stays in Snowdonia).

Oliver is not the competitive type and he need not fear me trying to jump him to win the Best Climber's Jersey or the Most Aggressive Rider's Jersey. I'll be manfully using every gear imaginable to get up the hills, steadily and then rapidly changing down from big ring to middle ring and then my small ring until I reach Nirvana. The lowest gear of all.

Stay Out of Your Granny Ring

I ride a triple chainset road bike. It is a Cannondale CA888D Tiagra with Shimano components. I likey a lotty. I have absolutely no problem whatsoever in cycling with a Triple chainset. The real serious cyclists out there would laugh and being purists, not deem me worthy of plonking Lycra on Saddle unless I used a compact (or double) chainset.

Sod that. I am not into adding more pain with only two chain rings to fall back (or off) on. No, I am delighted to be carrying a third, small, or to give it its very unfair name; 'a Granny Ring'.

As much as possible I try not to go into my Granny ring. I can overcome most lumps, bumps and hills on the two larger rings. However, there comes a time, when age, gravity, lethargy, a lack of sustenance and the horror of a cataclysmic road pitching up at an outrageous angle ahead when the words chant like a mantra in your head;

"Granny...granny...granny...granny."

I click down on to the reassuring granny ring and the world seems a little easier, a little softer at the edges and my troubles fade away. It is the same feeling as when my real Granny (or Nana as I used to call her) would present a pile of Club, Taxi and Viscount biscuits, a Jaffa cake or 6, some fruit cake and a mug of the finest tea in the finest China cup. That's why it is called the Granny ring, it is comforting, soothing and looks after you when you are feeling crap.

Anyway, I have gone on far too long.

One more day of teaching and then a day to prepare. Drawing similarities with my railway days, the alarm clock will very rudely wake me up at 5am on Saturday, to announce that it is LycraTime. My train will be my bike - and it may need to stop at all stations.

I will smear copious quantities of Chamois Cream to delay the saddle sores (until 30 miles, as opposed to 15 as is usually the case). I'll swallow a steaming bowl of porridge, some tea and force water down my neck like a Goose being primed for fois gras.

I'll say my goodbyes and see you soons to my wife, mother and my daughters and remind Simon and Dan that they do need to set off at some point in the morning in the motorhome to catch us up - we will need refuelling.

I'll then freewheel down the Bath Road to the cathedral (2 miles which don't count) and meet Oliver. An obigatory 'before' photo or two and we'll head off towards the Malverns, Hereford, The Wye Valley, The Brecon Beacons, Black Mountain and beyond (that is just day 1). 118 miles, with 300 more to come.

But I will head off not with trepidation, more with nervous excitement and pushed along by the amazing encouragement from family, friends, colleagues and strangers from all over the world who have so generously supported me in this challenge. The fact that with their help I am enabling Scope to carry on its magnificent wok in giving people with cerebral palsy a better quality of life will make every bead of sweat worthwhile.

The £4,000 target, which I have now reached, and the thoughts and wishes of countless people will lessen the wind, make the hills not so steep and the energy levels remain high....

Well, that's the theory anyway.