Fred Whitton 2008 Reports - Martin Porter
The good thing about this FW was that I essentially did it in the company of Mike Mills. It wasn't exactly a two-up effort as I tended to put a bit of effort into the tops of the climbs to give myself some chance of not being dropped on the descents. However I don't think we were ever more than about 10 minutes apart. He had the good sense to accept a drive to the start. I dawdled on when Mike went back to retrieve a dropped inner tube at the foot of Hawkshead Hill. He dropped back when I joined a group at Patterdale, I assumed caught at some temporary traffic lights, but zoomed past me at Matterdale End where my chain had jammed around the inner ring causing me to turn around to start a hill again and take a nature break whilst at it.
I took a solitary ride along the A66 to Keswick save for the speedy but brief two up with a fast guy in white which was brought to an abrupt end when he punctured. (I saw him much later as he zoomed past me with a cheery greeting somewhere between the feeds.) After that I just had the film crew for company to and through Keswick until I caught a rather lackadaisical group out the other side. I was considering my options when I was greeted with a hearty slap to the right buttock. Ian and Harry then hauled me (and quite a few others) to the foot of Honister Pass where I found Mike. He and I stopped for a feed at Buttermere and carried on together.
By Swarth and Cold (hmmm) Fell the heat was getting to me. I was hot, dehydrated and nauseous and my feet hurt like hell. I had tightened my shoes on the approach to the first hill thinking it would help me climb and in retrospect that was a mistake. I was getting demoralised. Mike was easing ahead and I didn't care any more about my goals for the day.
At the Calder Bridge feed I got as close as I could to a cold shower in the sink, drank loads, loosened my shoes and got a First Aider to spray cold stuff on my aching calves. I eventually felt a good deal better and started to care about my time again just as I saw Paul struggling with yet another puncture while we headed away from the feed. I felt only that little knot of apprehension as we headed down the interminable lanes towards Hardknott.
I know this is intolerably smug but I am going to dwell on Hardknott as it was my principle aim of the day to ride it. I held back when I saw a car on the lower reaches and so watched from a distance as it reversed, forcing Mike to dismount. I crept up the first steep switchbacks. Suddenly Thames Velo riders were everywhere providing encouragement. I passed Mike, John and finally Graham in rapid succession. For a deluded moment I thought I was nearly there but then looked up and realised I had forgotten how long the climb actually was. This low was followed by the consolation of realising that I had also forgotten that the long middle section is just plain steep rather than crazily vertical. I took this middle section at a slow pace consciously dropping the effort rather than allowing the speed to increase as the gradient eased. Looking up I saw gridlock on the next steep switchbacks as a descending car had failed to give way to a stream of four ascending vehicles. I could overhear the squealing, slipping and commotion as people got out of vehicles in a surely token effort to push the descending car back up the hill.
I stopped at a flattish point to observe all this determined not to take a step forward. A lot of walkers passed and I had almost regained the power of speech when Graham caught up with me. He calmly mounted his bike where I was proving that it could be done. I waited a little longer until no cars were in sight; luckily I clipped on first attempt and went for the steep section ahead.
I grunted noisily, partly because I was in pain but partly also to encourage people out of my way. I passed the spot where I had foolishly stopped last year. My 30 x 29 gear was sufficiently low that I was able to keep some semblance of a rhythm and I picked my way past those with stronger legs but higher gears who were precariously balanced on a stop/go side to side trajectory.
As the road straightened the gradient lessened but I was blowing a gasket in the heat and it took a determined effort to make it to the top. After the summit I stopped for a long drink to put off the dreaded descent. Eventually down I went pulling grimly on the brake levers with aching hands.
Just before Wrynose I stopped to stretch a cramping muscle. I saw Graham approach demonstrating that he could walk Hardknott almost as fast as I could ride it. I remounted thinking we might do Wrynose together. However Graham flew past me at impressive speed up the first part of Wrynose before abruptly stopping and dismounting. For the third time I passed him whilst grunting and gasping. Having conquered Hardknott I was not going to give up now and ground my way slowly to the top. Then another hairy descent. I then had nothing left for the remaining hills to Coniston and took them all in bottom gear.
I descended alone to the finish and clocked 08:16:19 about an hour better than last year. This was secondary though to riding Hardknott.
Final thoughts: the organisation was brilliant with much better direction signs than last year (though there was some difference of recollection amongst the club over whether the turn at Gosforth was clear enough). The Marshalls were all wonderful (with the possible exception of the parking attendant who might have communicated a little more politely the existence of a vehicle exit, as obscure as it was compulsory, at the far end of the field). As volunteers with a long day they are all (without exception) unsung heroes.
The villains of the day were I am afraid a minority of fellow cyclists. I felt a gut wrenching disappointment and shame every time I saw a discarded energy bar wrapper and I am afraid there were many. How can we expect the National Trust and other landowners to welcome our presence on such beautiful scenery whilst a small minority continue to litter? We should all take on responsibility to make it clear this is not on, or we allow people to think that Matthew Parris has a point, however clumsily expressed.