Mark Harding's 1st Fred Whitton with the 'Velo
This is my braindump of the Fred Whitton Challenge, a 110 mile race in the Lake District, taking in all the major passes in one day. This has been described as "one of the UK's hardest one day races"
Trophy's awarded for first rider home, first lady, first vet and first team of three.
Certificates for - Elite : under 7 hrs, 1st Class : Under 8 hours and 2nd Class : under 11 hours
This is a sponsorship event, so all the money raised is for the Macmillan Nurses fund. Thanks to the Norfolk bikers club who I met in the Crown pub. They had a whipround of £10 for me when they realised what I was doing the next day. They had just ridden their Harley's over some of the passes that afternoon!
I was in the 8 o'clockers, these are unknown, 1st or 2nd cat from previous years, meaning I started at 8am. The weather forecast was cloudy, but with around 20mph SW wind, some of the leg was going to be hard work if you're out on your own. Around 120 people queued up at the start and I signed in and got fairly up the front as the first climb was on a narrow road and I didn't fancy playing catch-up on the first big climb of the day.
We were off with a leading escort taking photos and a strangely enough a BMW X5 as our broom wagon, I was already tempted to climb off! Up Hawkshead Hill and already the bunch started to thin out, only 100m climb. Thanks to my club coach, Dave Lambourne, I have been on intensive hill interval training and my cycle computer was displaying Heart Rate and Watts permanently. If my heart started to go over 165bpm then it was time to ease off. This was easier said then done on the first part as nervous tension was in abundance! Down Hawkshead Hill and the descending speed was up to 55kph single file, ready on the brakes, it was then I first started chatting to Steve Labram, a fairly local guy, cat 3 racer. We had a natter about the days proceedings, he hadn't done this either. On the flat through Ambleside and the leading 8 o'clockers were putting on the pace at around 35kph. Apparently this was because of the 9 o'clockers...
The 9 o'clockers are the Elites, these are people who have ridden under or close to 7 hours and are also well known by the organisers. The leading 8 o'clockers pride was in stake not to get caught by the 9 o'clockers.
Kirkstone was looming, under cloud cover, and a climb of approx. 420m from lake Windermere straight up. We turned left and the gradient kicked up instantly to around 15%. The leading 8 o'clockers of around 30 lads (and ladies) were on the hammer. I sat at the back, the gradient then kicked up again to around 20% and it's then I remembered Dave's advice, I looked down - my heart rate was 179bpm and time to drop back a bit and pace myself, I said goodbye to Steve who decided to hang on and settled under my lactate threshold at 160bpm, this was going to be a long day.
A couple of teams and a few Lakes riders (the local club) were now on the hammer, gradient stayed on average around 15% all the way up Kirkstone. It's psychologically hard work at you can never see more than 50m up the road, but can see the peak under cloud looming up in front. The temperature started to drop, I comfortably churned my way up. A few more riders coming past. At the top of Kirkstone people were waving and clapping. Not many riders spoke, but I shouted out "nice day and what lovely weather", they laughed and must have thought I was mad as a brush.
The mysterious black BMW X5 was back as we started the descent, I say mysterious as the windows were blacked out so. He stayed behind at a good distance as my speed went up and up at around 60 kph he went passed me and then couldn't overtake the rider in front of him, so I got a nice draught all the way done, at over 70 kph. Through Patterdale and Glenridding and then up Matterdrake, a 200m climb, not so steep, got in a group of 4 blokes and chatted as best we could. It was here having climbed around 750m so far that we had to turn west and face the 20-25mph Irish Sea wind all the way down the A66 to Keswick. We slowed up on my advice no less and a couple more Lake's riders got in our group and we shared turns all the way down into Keswick which pleased everyone, the Lakes guys pealed off, they were up for the team prize with local pride at stake.
It was a this point I started chatting to Doug, another local who had filled his bidon with rice pudding, I thought this was quite funny and we laughed at how I was such a Southern pussy and he was a Northern w**ker! The laughing didn't last, Honister pass was up in front, a lump in my throat formed quickly, a warning sign at the cow grid said "Gradient 25%", round the corner and there she was. Immediately on to the triple ring on the front and 25 on the back my heart rate so hard I could feel it in my head. I said to myself "I refuse to get off", I glanced down at my power, I was doing 340 Watts just ticking over. No one spoke, all you could hear was the water rushing down off the fells. A couple of guys passed me just so we weren't level in case we had to get off. I just buried my head and kept pushing. The 25% shallowed down to 20, then 15 giving us a rest bite. I took a look over my shoulder down the valley and you could see riders strung down the pass crawling up, an amazing sight. A few cars drivers stopped as none of the guys were going to pull over and risk stopping for anyone. Car horns were ignored, they soon got the message, most obliged and were happy to watch us and shouting "go on, go on don't stop your nearly there!"
At this point we reached the first check point at 51 miles at Buttermere youth hostel. I found myself chatting to Paul Loftus the organiser and apparently a very well known cyclo-cross champion in his former years. He commented on my Thames Velo kit and the logo's on the Van, he asked me where the rest of my team were! I explained this was a bit of the beaten track and that this was a personal thing for training for the Etape.
There were around 30 blokes and two girls getting stuck into the refreshments, more than one made the comment that they have found this event harder than the Etape Du Tour in the past. I was surprised and later slightly concerned about what was ahead, although having already been up the infamous Hardknott and Wrynose passes before I had experience, but not after 90 odd miles.
One of the girls who was way up the road way back at Kirkstone, had suffered 2 punctures by this point and looked a bit demoralised. I said "Hey, don't worry s**t happens". It then started to pour with rain, rain like you get in Florida in the evening. We laughed put on our raincoats and got back on the hammer. A few of the people who had raced up Kirkstone earlier were looking grim. They had worried looks on their faces as we headed off. The next climb was a churn up Newlands Pass with no-one in sight, at the top you could see the Irish Sea and feel the 25mph wind blowing you around, nice. With no-one to work with, this really started to get to you, luckily I had my Thames Velo windproof, rainproof and bullet-proof top on. I had been eating all the way round, Alpen bars, Jam sandwiches cut into 4, banana's, Lucozade. I should have really strapped a dinner tray to my handlebars!
Descending to the bottom of Newlands at around 56 miles gone, the 9 o'clockers came past me like I wasn't moving. They must have come past at 80kph, I nearly soiled my padded pants. I mustered up some courage and edged onto the back and stayed on their wheel. We started up Whinlatter Pass, they were laughing and joking, playing cards etc, I stayed with them for about 2 mins, looked at my heart rate and peeled off, these guys (and a girl) were really going. I could see three "Trek VW UK" mountain bike guys kitted up, all out for a evening stroll by the way they looked. These guys (and a gall) were the Elite's. They were up for finishing under 7 hours. This was a bit demoralising and the fact I hadn't seen anyone for over 40mins. At the top of Whinlatter Pass loads of people were clapping and shouting encouragement and I replied "Have you got a spare of legs that I can borrow !?", they laughed. The mysterious BMW X5 was parked there, looking in the front windshield I could just see a bloke and his missus. They waved and laughed!
My legs were starting to feel heavy, also we had turned west again and the good old Irish Sea headwind was in my face. I started to panic, the wind was so strong I had to pedal downhill! Luckily after about 10mins two riders from the Lakes club who were working together came past eased up and let me get on the back. We chatted, I made the comment that I didn't know this neck of the woods and we eased up again and we all took turns on the front, had loads of food and even more to drink. After about 15 mins we started to perk up and they were off up the road, checking at one point to see if I had taken the right road. Thoroughly nice decent blokes! Up Cold Fell. I worked out why they called it Cold Fell as its 300m above sea level, a mile from the sea, with only a smoke stack of Sellafield Power Station as shelter it was full force of the wind, bleak surroundings. My energy was being sapped, just at the worst bit who should come up behind but Steve, he had waited for his brother at the first checkpoint and then set off. We worked together for a bit until we thanked god to get out of the wind and turn east back inland for the final onslaught.
Steve and I rolled into the last checkpoint at Gosforth at 86 miles. Steve signed in and went straight on hoping to try and finish in under 8 hours. I knew what lay ahead, only another 14 miles, but Hardknott Pass has gradients of 30% and Wrynose isn't far behind, they also come one after another with about 8 minutes rest descending in between. There were some really tired faces, I can remember seeing some guys who had hammered up Kirkstone laying out on the grass, contemplating whether to attempt to finish. I signed in, grabbed loads of banana's, Nutri-grain bars and three cans of coke, laid it out on the grass and devoured the whole lot. A lot of people were just watching us. Some bikes were being loaded back onto cars. I went to the Gents and started to kit up. With this a few others started to get on and then more did also. So we all set off in a group of around 12 and made our way to Hardknott. We all chatted, a couple of us had been up here already, a few guys started to put on a pace, we let them go.
The red telephone box at the base of Hardknott signalled time for extreme suffering. I had serious butterflies, I felt like I was going "over the top". The gradient started to kick up 15% .... 22% ..... 25% .... out of the trees and there it was, sheer terror and stupidity, at least the sun was out! I said to myself "I'm not stopping, no way, *!$* it, i'm not stopping, not for no one, car, sheep, the queen, not no one." I was on the 30%, I worked out I had to grind over 400 Watts just to turn the crank. A guy stopped and rolled down a bit. A car came up, put it's horn on, no one reacted. 5 kph pushing the gear over trying to stay balanced, I quickly glanced up. A cyclist 20m above me in sheer agony. I got 3/4 the way up and then the guy in front of me jumped off. I tried to take this ramp but couldn't keep the crank going round and unclipped damn quick and jumped off. We looked around and 3 or 4 guys who we were with were looking at us with the same agonising look on their faces. I just started yelling "go on, go on, don't stop, go on". We all yelled, this one guy started swearing at the top of his voice at himself, he made it. I walked about 25m up, this section was 33%. I got back on and just managed to clip in and get going again and pushed up and up to the top. I wasn't cheesed at all. I knew what I had just achieved. To climb a 350m pass at 30% in places after 90 miles was the dogs danglies. The descent down was just as bad as going up. I was hard on the brakes keeping the speed down. One false move a you're a gonner, the road was wet, it's so steep downwards that you have to fight to get your weight over the back of the bike to stay on. My arms cramped up from holding the brakes on, a couple of guys went past. How I don't know?
It was a twisty, turny descent and then a look at up the last pass - Wrynose, only 150m to climb after Hardknott, and around 22% so this was a breeze. My spirit lifted, I was home and dry. The mysterious BMW X5 with it's blacked out windows was sitting at the top. I dug deep for the last 30m of the climb and nearly wiped out a renegade sheep. This time the occupants shouted well done, well done! The official photographer was at the top. I pulled my cap on straight and did up my top and smiled as best as I could. It was a quick descent down and back onto the main road to Coniston.
After 110 miles, 3320m of ascending, I crossed the line in 8 hours 27 minutes and gained 2nd category. Caught up with Steve and he had come in 8 hrs 9mins, so just missed 1st category, but wasn't unhappy. His brother made it as well and I think we were all chuffed that we'd got round before it got dark! I'll be doing this again next year, as I reckon I can do it in under 8 hours. We'll have to see ... Next the Etape ...