"Gold Lion's gonna tell me where the light isTake our hands out of control"
The Cheshire Cat Sportive courtesy of Kilo to Go, 100 mile route!
The morning had arrived.
Heavily anticipated and well trained for.........
Well I say well trained for, if twelve typical mountain bike riders and a few official roadies mixing up forty mile sessions for 2 weeks constitutes training then we were on it!
It was a heady start, the alarm hitting the high notes at an unprecedented 5.30am.
Bleary eyed and full of starch it was time to fill up and wash down.
Porridge and tea absorbed.
Energy drinks mixed and clothing for the day packed.
Porridge and tea absorbed.
Energy drinks mixed and clothing for the day packed.
So it begins.
Coffee drank and vehicles loaded, we depart heading for Crewe and all it's spoils.
We arrive to a city of bikes and bikers, wonderous and a marvel to behold, the streets are awash with Carbon, Aluminium, Titanium, Rubber and Lycra, a strange and heady mix especially at this time on a Sunday.
Decant is swift and after a quick chat and bike kudos points being awarded we gather round for the team depart photo opportunity that won't seem so appealing after 103 miles have been completed.
Rolling to the start, lined out in peloton style, It gives me a 70's flashback of Kris Kristofferson in Convoy leading our boys ceremoniously to what will later transpire to be six and half hours of pain.
Kilo to Go have organised an amazing event here at Crewe Alexander stadium, the logistics and support are immense and very impressive. Colour coded start times and chipped stickers for accurate timing are just the tip of the iceberg.
There are literally thousand's of riders here, each start group accompanied by police outriders to ensure a safe and steady start to a gruelling course.
The Northern Collective Team Cyclehouse, thirteen deep, form a steady long line heading out on course in epic sun drenched conditions. Average speeds on the first ten miles are tipping a little over 20mph, everyone is buzzed and full of gusto, these events are always the same, enthusiasm over rules ability for the first 50 miles.
The unwritten rule was always to bypass the first feed station and regroup, if needed, at the half way point. This way we wouldn't lose too much time and hopefully not get caught up in the masses on the approach to some of the bigger climbs of the day.
Destination - Mow Cop......the killer climb
So with the legs spinning freely and everyone feeling strong we coasted towards Mow Cop.
This is the stuff of legend, a climb over a mile long and at it's steepest under a 1 in 4 gradient.
On the approach we thin out to gather some riding space, a fast tarmac section belies the difficulty of what's looming over us, we turn right from the main drag into the climb itself, over a railway line and start the ascent.......
It's all lung's and handbags while riders jockey for position, some flailing like a trawler man's catch. Some speed up, burning glycogen stores much needed for full on assault at the top. We crown the first section, riding out from a shadowy canopy into a sun lit stretch of bitumen pointing towards the real prize, Mow Cop itself.
We hit it, spaced out making sure no other rider is going to conflict with us, line choice and path are the last link in a long chain that will culminate in success or failure. The tension builds, the shouts and cheers drown out the lactic acid and lack of useful oxygen. This is extremely steep, easily on a par if not worse than climbs like The Rake in Ramsbottom and Winnats Pass in Castleton. Losing all cognitive thought and having no idea where the rest of our number are on the hill I press on the pedals harder and harder, not going any quicker as the climb relentlessly reaches it's steepest point. The line of the wall for the pub on the right say's it all, it would be difficult to walk up here, even drive, here is where experience plays over training, keeping the bike straight and looking dead ahead I give it everything, pulse topping out at a heady 186bpm I am right at my top end. the cheers get louder and yes, there is a camera man!
No stopping, Boom!
I do it, storming up to the brow past the official top of the hill to encounter riders chatting and walking, the climb isn't over, what are these people doing??
The Northern Collective, are, as always, right at the top, climb finished - Take no prisoners!
No stopping, Boom!
I do it, storming up to the brow past the official top of the hill to encounter riders chatting and walking, the climb isn't over, what are these people doing??
The Northern Collective, are, as always, right at the top, climb finished - Take no prisoners!
I'm roughly in the middle of our number, we pull to the side and await the rest, energy gels, cake and jelly babies are being thrown into the engines as quickly as possible, That really was a tough climb!!!!
The Collective reign, not one of our number failed to climb the Cop, medals for all!
Next stop - Gun Hill
We descend down the back side of the Cop towards the Border between Congleton and Biddulph, essentially the border between Stafford and Cheshire. Fast and littered with pot holes big enough to swallow your wheels. Many riders aren't descending well and it's not easy to pick through them. We bottom out and hurry along towards the next big hitter.
This is undulating territory and eats away at you, slowly gnawing on the muscle and sinew that's working dutifully with every pedal rev. Gun Hill rears up, a slow grind, not the kind you had at the school disco back in 86' but a real lactic acid builder. The group are fragmented and no-one really knows where everyone else is. I team up with Big Nate, we strike out on our own after a few guys stop for a natural break. The first feed station is looming and we have already decided that we would all stop at the half way point, Goostrey Village Hall. Nate and I roll past on the look out for "the pack". Before we know it were fast approaching the steep, long, rolling hills of Wincle, no sign of the rest, we figure they have put a spurt on maybe thinking we are in front. We resign ourselves to the fact we have been dropped and set about enjoying the next seventy miles.
Wincle is tough, dropping into the bottom of the valley to climb out past the Wincle Brewery (very tempting...) long, steep, strength sapping tarmac relentlessly rolls on and on, only punctuated by riders on very expensive carbon bikes walking.......
5km to go
4kmto go
3km to go
They tick down seeming to be further apart each one we tick off....at last we reach our half way goal.
We pull in, riding through the swathe of endorsement flags and hungry riders. Nathan and I are frantically trying to spy the rest of our team, surely we can't be so far behind?
A quick check on the phone reveals a missed call, they must have set off before we arrived - we are well behind.
So, caution to the wind, no rush now so we tuck into cake and energy gels, bananas and High 5 energy drink. Soaking in the atmosphere and enjoying the effort we have put into the pedals. Twenty minutes have passed and we decide to make a move, togging back up and readying ourselves with Energy Gels and drinks we throw our legs over the top tubes and prepare for battle........ just as Adrian rides in, Adrian?? He's only one of the fastest riders from The Northern Collective.
Mechanical?
No.
The lads had all stopped at the first feed station and we were well ahead, one by one the rest drip in. Little had we known we were so far in front, we would never have stopped for so long.
More chat and cake then. Don't mind if I do.
Some time later we set off, a long slither of athletic prowess snaking through the Cheshire plain. We build up to 26, 27 mph lined out, eating into riders in front as if they are stood still, we look magnificent, pro like you might say. The sun is beating down and the wind is nearly none existent. Miles tick down like ice buns at an elephants birthday party.
We are on it!
Boom.
One hasty right hander see's one of our number hit the deck, dry roads, gravel corners and poor tyres bring Paul down, hitting the floor at a steady 25mph isn't fun, especially when your on a demo bike......
Dusting down and bike check complete he get's back on, cyclists are a tough breed and Paul is no exception.
Still strong and riding hard we maintain our average anticipating the last beasting up and around Beeston Castle.
We rattle up it, zero issues. There have been a few strained faces in the last ten miles but only smiles now, its the final stretch.
Eighty Five, 85, 8T5, miles covered.
Last feed station, do we stop? Of course, we can relax slightly, nearly done... isn't it?
Game Changer.
This has really altered the mind set of the group, or at least mine.
We set off in search of the final twenty five miles, tough.com.
The group splits on a relatively innocuous climb, it may as well be Alpe D'Huez. I drop along with Nathan, our early effort clearly coming to the surface. we see the group ebb away over the crown of the hill.
We make the top and it's clear to me I'm running on empty.
Dig deep.
We roll through the sprint finish like arena, set up for all who were brave and fit enough to take part, what an achievement.
We meet up with the rest of the guys, warm smiles, aching legs, the eyes say it all.
We look like a gaggle of miners fresh from a fifteen hour shift.
We all received the Mow Cop Killer Climb medal, not one of the Collective failed, nor did any of us dab on any other hill.
Times weren't bad either, actual ride time for the first group 6 hours, they managed to put nearly thirty minutes into Nathan and I in the last twenty miles......oh well it's only what we put into them at the half way point!
Beer in hand we sit round waiting for the first round of cramp to kick in.
All of us proud to have completed a super tough course.
Are we coming back next year?
Maybe.....
This is undulating territory and eats away at you, slowly gnawing on the muscle and sinew that's working dutifully with every pedal rev. Gun Hill rears up, a slow grind, not the kind you had at the school disco back in 86' but a real lactic acid builder. The group are fragmented and no-one really knows where everyone else is. I team up with Big Nate, we strike out on our own after a few guys stop for a natural break. The first feed station is looming and we have already decided that we would all stop at the half way point, Goostrey Village Hall. Nate and I roll past on the look out for "the pack". Before we know it were fast approaching the steep, long, rolling hills of Wincle, no sign of the rest, we figure they have put a spurt on maybe thinking we are in front. We resign ourselves to the fact we have been dropped and set about enjoying the next seventy miles.
Wincle is tough, dropping into the bottom of the valley to climb out past the Wincle Brewery (very tempting...) long, steep, strength sapping tarmac relentlessly rolls on and on, only punctuated by riders on very expensive carbon bikes walking.......
"A rider earns his bike!" Bill IleyTopping out above Sutton and Oakgrove we hurtle down towards the half way point with enthusiasm and gusto...... we catch other riders up, one, then two, then another group of three and four. They slipstream on the back of our dynamic duo.... apart from one, a sole one man band, a true clubman in his full strip. He won't give up, pull over, no, he is going to take us there. Thirty mph lined out on undulating Cheshire lane, even potholes won't slow this man down, he is possessed. The many who have hung on have become the few and we are feeling great. We strive headlong anticipating some cake and bananas at the feed.
5km to go
4kmto go
3km to go
They tick down seeming to be further apart each one we tick off....at last we reach our half way goal.
We pull in, riding through the swathe of endorsement flags and hungry riders. Nathan and I are frantically trying to spy the rest of our team, surely we can't be so far behind?
A quick check on the phone reveals a missed call, they must have set off before we arrived - we are well behind.
So, caution to the wind, no rush now so we tuck into cake and energy gels, bananas and High 5 energy drink. Soaking in the atmosphere and enjoying the effort we have put into the pedals. Twenty minutes have passed and we decide to make a move, togging back up and readying ourselves with Energy Gels and drinks we throw our legs over the top tubes and prepare for battle........ just as Adrian rides in, Adrian?? He's only one of the fastest riders from The Northern Collective.
Mechanical?
No.
The lads had all stopped at the first feed station and we were well ahead, one by one the rest drip in. Little had we known we were so far in front, we would never have stopped for so long.
More chat and cake then. Don't mind if I do.
Some time later we set off, a long slither of athletic prowess snaking through the Cheshire plain. We build up to 26, 27 mph lined out, eating into riders in front as if they are stood still, we look magnificent, pro like you might say. The sun is beating down and the wind is nearly none existent. Miles tick down like ice buns at an elephants birthday party.
We are on it!
Boom.
One hasty right hander see's one of our number hit the deck, dry roads, gravel corners and poor tyres bring Paul down, hitting the floor at a steady 25mph isn't fun, especially when your on a demo bike......
Dusting down and bike check complete he get's back on, cyclists are a tough breed and Paul is no exception.
Still strong and riding hard we maintain our average anticipating the last beasting up and around Beeston Castle.
 |
| Northern Collective Cyclehouse Train - Note Lee on his super stiff Scott Foil 20 |
Eighty Five, 85, 8T5, miles covered.
Last feed station, do we stop? Of course, we can relax slightly, nearly done... isn't it?
Game Changer.
This has really altered the mind set of the group, or at least mine.
We set off in search of the final twenty five miles, tough.com.
The group splits on a relatively innocuous climb, it may as well be Alpe D'Huez. I drop along with Nathan, our early effort clearly coming to the surface. we see the group ebb away over the crown of the hill.
We make the top and it's clear to me I'm running on empty.
Dig deep.
The last ten miles are tough, a bit like walking on broken glass.
No conversation takes place as both of us aren't giving anything away, silence is a sign of emotional pain as much as physical, the end can't come quick enough.
We soldier on, entering back into suburbia from the rural back lanes of the last forty odd miles we can almost smell the finish, we gradually rise up and over a small brow, other riders getting brave at the promise of the finish urge past. Experience pays dividends here and we stay in our zone, still five miles to go........four.......three.......two.......
We can see the stadium, almost there, we have done it, we have bloody done it!
We meet up with the rest of the guys, warm smiles, aching legs, the eyes say it all.
We look like a gaggle of miners fresh from a fifteen hour shift.
We all received the Mow Cop Killer Climb medal, not one of the Collective failed, nor did any of us dab on any other hill.
Times weren't bad either, actual ride time for the first group 6 hours, they managed to put nearly thirty minutes into Nathan and I in the last twenty miles......oh well it's only what we put into them at the half way point!
Beer in hand we sit round waiting for the first round of cramp to kick in.
All of us proud to have completed a super tough course.
Are we coming back next year?
Maybe.....
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