Part 2: Rookie in the rain

Photo: Karl Booth

My race preparation had not been good. I wasn’t exactly sure what I would need. I was apprehensive because I knew I would be racing through some very remote areas with many hours between any kind of opportunity to re-supply. I knew that the risk of hypothermia, for example, was real. Tugging at the bottom of my consciousness was my own growing realisation that this would be really different. Just a week of riding my new Canyon Exceed around the horse poo strewn bridle paths of Kent and Essex had convinced me that there’s a chasm between a mountain and a gravel bike. I felt like a novice because I was one.

On Saturday morning, 60 of us started from Tyndrum, just north of Loch Lomond, amid a bubble of excitement and nerves, at least on my part. Within minutes, there was a slight climb and I had to get off and walk. This was embarrassing because there were people queueing behind me to ride past. In the end, I stepped aside, saying “sorry, sorry, excuse me”. I wondered, what they were thinking? Race organiser Alan must have been chuckling to himself as this road rider struggled from the very start.

Only an hour into the race I saw a river crossing, ahead of me. Two riders had decided to get off and walk. The third rider, Dustin Erol, just rode straight through. I was so impressed, how cool was he? If he could, why couldn’t I? I went for it, deciding it must be all about speed, though obviously with a little bit of skill and finesse. Halfway across and I go straight over my handlebars, I’m completely soaked. I get up quickly because there’s a guy walking across actually next to me, who laughs. I make a special show for him: “Better to try and fail!”

The test was only getting started. The trails had been fairly straightforward, so I’d been able to push on. Then, as we got to a boggy section, the leading riders all streamed past me and disappeared into the distance. This was humbling, I was being absolutely schooled.

After the big technical climb and descent from Ben Alder, the rain really set in. We arrived in Fort Augustus so I went into the public toilets to get myself sorted out. I got into my proper rain gear and prepared myself to head into the night. I took the opportunity to eat a good meal thinking I didn’t know when the next would be. I was able to share a few words with the formidable Lee Craigie over some chips. What a bike racer.

Around dusk I found myself reduced to walking on a rocky section. I realised that just behind me and approaching fast was a rider. I made it off the rocks and onto a boggy climb, the rider was getting closer. Over the top and descending, I felt I was at snail’s pace. I heard the rider right on my tail and I pulled in to allow the pass. Lee flies by and glides off down the boggy trail towards the horizon. Wow! A masterclass in mountain biking. I caught her a bit later on, she’d stopped briefly. She seemed in good spirits and we shared a few words. She knew what was to come, I was in for the ride of my life.

It was dark, it was still raining hard and the track seemed to have become a river. I started thinking about shelter. I knew about a place called the ‘Hydro Bothy’ and eventually, at 0130, it find it. It’s not in good condition, the windows have been knocked in and the door doesn’t really open so you have to sort of bang it, which wakes up the two riders who are already sleeping there. I set my alarm for five hours, more than normal during a race. Physically I was okay, but mentally I was feeling drained. It had all been such a whirlwind since getting back from Italy. Frankly I had also found the first day’s racing to be difficult. During the night I heard other people’s alarms go off and was aware of them leaving. When my alarm eventually went off, it was still raining heavily. Even though it was now daylight and time to be riding, I decided to give myself another couple of hours. Eventually I couldn’t put it off longer and I wriggled out of my sleeping bag and got into my wet clothes.

As I busted open the bothy door to escape the poor shelter, the day improved, a lot. Jenny Graham turns up and we end up riding together for a short while. She is really one of my heroes and I think that her 2018 round the world record is one of the greatest ultra-endurance feats. Around 0830 we arrive in Contin, a crucial re-provision point.

I had been thinking that my brakes were really noisy as we came into the town, so I checked them. Front disc pads – down to the metal. Rear pads – a bit left. One day into the race and I have already finished a full set of brake pads. I only have one spare set. It’s pitiful as I’m having some mental breakdown about my bloody brake pads in the shop. Eventually I convinced myself that I wasn’t doomed and changed the front ones only. I’ll go till I can’t.

I set off on my own and work out what’s just happened. As a novice, I was just not riding the bike properly, I was using my brakes too much. From now on my race would be more difficult as I must use the brakes as little as possible!

Lunch was fantastic though. I stopped at the Oykel Bridge hotel in the middle of nowhere, which seemed to be just full of us. Ben Steurbaut, Dustin Eroh (eventual winner), Nelson Trees, Thomas Burbach, Javier Simon, Markus Stitz. What company! We’re all damp, smelly and hungry. I had the double main course: pasta then burger with chips. Outside the rain teemed down and soon I was back in it with a relentless headwind. Sometimes I just had to stop a moment, perhaps to just skulk behind a tree for five minutes. Thankfully there was a moment of magic to lift my spirits, a majestic herd of red deer crossed the trail, just in front of me.

I arrived at another river crossing as it was getting dark. In my civil engineering degree, I’ve been looking at fluid dynamics. There it was in practice, right in front of me. The water was breaking right over the track. I knew if I went upstream there would be slower water, which I soon found. I laid my bike on the bank and slid in to see how deep it was. Up to my armpits! I went back, got my bike on my shoulders and waded across. I was so far out of my comfort zone, I really felt alive!

After a long boggy section, there was another double river crossing (the second one pretty fast) and I’m joined by Nelson. Again, I’m feeling really good. It’s 0°, it’s been raining for 48 hours and it’s getting dark. I jump in, at the point I feel most comfortable and get across. What a great feeling.

Immediately after there is a long ‘hike a bike’ section and I’m on my own again, pushing 20kg of bike and luggage up a steep hill. This really warms me up, just what I need. At about 0130 I arrive in Drumbeg. It’s a nice time to stop and I see my favourite accommodation, the public toilets. The men’s? Smells like piss. No thanks. The women’s? Smells like roses and it’s large, even cavernous, with a table and a hairdryer. I get my wet stuff out on the table to dry and settle down to 3 hours of warm dry and peaceful sleep.

Perfect; 2 ½ days racing with over 400 km covered and the end of the Northern Loop. As I fall asleep, I’m actually race leader. Little did I know the real terrain and racing was only getting started.