migrant|roo

After a very busy few months at work (remember Balloonacy?) and a lot happening over a busy, social summer, I was feeling really run down and low on energy and motivation.

So I went on a long bike ride. About 4 days long in fact; I did the C2C (Coast to Coast) bike ride. Some stats before the gorey details:

• 15 cereal/energy scoffed


• 3 B+Bs recovered in


• 0 punctures suffered


• 1 item of crucial waterproof clothing lost


• £88 of train tickets purchased


• 37.4 mp/h top speed


• 352 photos taken


• 2 payphones used


• 4 full, huge English breakfasts eaten


• 6 litres of self-filled water from mountain streams, drunk


• 0 people accompanying me

Check out my Flickr album with the best photos from the trip.

Here's a rough map of the route:

The trip was spread over 4 days, where I did around 40 miles a day until the last day where I did nearer 70.

Being alone

I did the trip alone, which turned out to be both good and bad. I'm not really very used to being on my own, coming from a big, loud family and having been with Jo for nearly 6 years. Not being used to it, I don't like it very much, meaning I didn't like a lot of the solitude I found whilst out there - but on reflection, I can see that it's definitely good for me to be out of my comfort zone for a while.

The halo period

.. was absolutely stunning! Loosely, the first 2 days were across and out of the Lake District, and the last 2 days were a long, winding traversal of the Northern Penines.

The weather on days 1 and 2 was really good; sunny in spells, but mostly cloudy - very easy to cycle in. The scenery was breaktaking as I rode up and out of countless valleys with lakes dotted around in every direction.

On the 3rd day, however, the rain came..

The rain

Unbelievably, I left my water and winproof jacket in the B&B on the very first night. Nice. The rain on day 3 was weird, not heavy, but very dense.

I had 2 notably huge climbs: the first up Hartside at 1900ft and Black Hill at 2000ft. The view from Hartside was amazing and after a long rest and drink I set off towards Black Hill.

The climb was so much tougher (lots of sharp, steep hills) and when nearly at the top the fog made it impossible to see more than 10 meters around me! I know that there were roads I was cycling on with sheer drops that I simply couldn't see because of the blanket of white. Mental stuff, and to be honest really daunting and scary.

After more climbing, more fog and more rain I don't think I've ever been as relieved to see a warm pub with a room than I was when I rode into Allenheads, some 7 and a half hours after setting off. Brutal.

The last day

Right, I bought a map from Sustrans (the excellent UK cycling charity) which mapped out the route (beautifully and thoroughly might I add) and it also provided route profiles - simple line charts that show the size of the hills between places on the route.

Based on that I decided to ride a much further distance on the last day because the route profiles showed 2 climbs out and then downhill all the way to Sunderland, and I figured it should be a cruise.

Wrong!

The route profiles for that last part, in my opinion, completely wrong. 2 climbs turned into 8 and I found myself on a very weird, wide B-road with no road markings. The rain was driving so hard and the landscape had turned from intricate valleys to vast, open expanses.

In this expanse was little me, on my little bike, on a fucking long road shared only by these gigantic "Tyne and Wear Road Rock" juggernauts.

Because the climbing had already been so tough I really started to become freaked out about how little ground I'd covered and once I was truly in the middle of absolutely nowhere and could see no houses, towns, huts, animals, nothing at all whatsoever I started to truly freak out.

There was no mobile reception at all, I couldn't make any sense of the map I decided there's no way I was riding down the 6 mile monster-hill I'd just climbed so I'd keep going.

Just like that, half a mile down I see a blue glimmer through the fog - the turn off for the Waskerley Way, a 25 mile "dedicated cycle track" which offered a "superbly relaxing cruise down to the Tyne".

Bollocks. "Dedicated cycle track" meant for the most part a shingle, dirt and rock track. "Superbly relaxing" turned into "Arduous and exhausting" due to the fact that it'd been raining for 2 weeks and there was surface water all the way down. For 25 miles and 2 hours, I was constantly riding through puddles and mud pits. I became completely caked in mud - water pouring off me, out of my shoes, off the bike.

Once I'd come out of the sheer wilderness, the Waskerley Way continues into frankly flat, boring riverside rides through post-industrial Tyne and Wear area. I was so tired and so beaten up, I was counting the meters to the station so I could come home.

It got better - the grit, water and 25 mile downhill wore both sets of brakepads to a nub rendering them useless meaning I had to freewheel the last couple of miles into Newcastle.

That was after I washed self and bike using a bucket and tap at a petrol station 5 miles out of Newcastle (stuffing a snickers bar in the process) so that I wasn't in such a rank state that they'd turn me and mucky bike away from the train.

I made it in, and following lots of waiting and long train journeys I was home on Tuesday evening, some 91 hours after leaving.

I'm so proud of myself that I did it. Its not the kind of thing I do a lot, but it's certainly something I'm going to do a hell of a lot more of. The scenery, adventure, focus and solitude have left me feeling genuinely refreshed :)