Mille Cymru: It was always more than just a bike ride.

Mille Cymru: It was always more than just a bike ride

The stats: 

The challenge: A 1,000km bike ride, to be ridden in a deadline of 75 hours. That’s London to Inverness, or Berlin, or Bordeaux. Its the same as six mountain stages of the Tour de France, back to back, continuous.

Ascent: 15,000m (or twice Everest)

Number of hills: about 19,000, I just stopped counting somewhere in Pembrokeshire. Never, ever go to Pembrokeshire (or Anglesey, but thats another story...)

Sleep: Nil on night one (thanks snoring man..), 1 hour on night two, two glorious hours on night three. 10 amazing minutes in a bus shelter, 10 less amazing minutes face down on a bridlepath, 10 minutes on a grassy bank outside a fire station. 10 minutes in a cardboard box store outside of Costcutter - Clare said I looked like a tramp - but I was a very happy comfortable tramp in there....

Savagery scale: without any doubt whatsoever this is the hardest, toughest, silliest event I have ever done, or am likely to do. I cry every time I think about what we just achieved. It was just stunning and amazing and epic and savage all rolled into one. 

The aftermath: Everything is broken. Feet, legs, hand, eyes are swollen and numb. 3 nights without any real sleep, 73 hours since we left the village hall all suddenly catch up on us with every tiny exertion leading to a wave of fatigue. The mind cannot process even the simplest of tasks or questions - everything is just beyond comprehension. 

The finish: We finished, thats all that matters. We rode our ride, our way. And we finished. We set out how we were going to physically and emotionally support each other and we finished a ride that looked in doubt only a few days previous. Many of the 86 riders who started did not finish - 16 of them were killed off by the 30 degree heat on day one. Another 11 succumbed to the brutality of Pembrokeshire on day 2. Did I mention - never, ever go to Pembrokeshire. But finish we did, we rode it the only way we could have ridden it - together, side by side, and we rode it to the absolute best of our abilities and limits of our bodies and minds. We could not have given any more, either to the ride or to each other. This was our journey, our way.

The prize: So savage was this ride that the vast bulk of finishers were always going to be finishing within an hour or two of the 75 hour deadline - we finished with a couple of hours to spare. We won a mug. And a smile from the organiser when we thanked him for organising the event. Thats Audax for you - such simplicity - cycling in its simplest purest form - just you, your bike and 1,000km ahead of you before you get back to where you started. No high fives or dancing around, just 50 people in a room, tired beyond comprehension, just sharing the moment.

The journey: My journey here was an emotional one - I attempted a 400km ride a few years back that I quit through sheer boredom, the mental desolation of not having spoken to anyone for 18 hours just did me in. When we agreed to do Mille Cymru it was only ever going to be a ride that we did together - neither of us could have or would have ridden this alone. Clare has more experience of this type of challenge than myself - but once we got round a 600k ride in tarmac melting 32 degree heat a few weeks back and Clare asked me “Is Mille Cymru actually possible” I genuinely for the first time felt that it was possible - I’d always hoped it was of course, but now I knew it was possible - but no more than that, possible - not probable, not likely, just possible. The training was all in the bag now  - the training rides that to other people looked nuts -  getting up at midnight after two hours sleep and going out to ride 350km - riding 600km in 32 degree heat - riding out at 10pm and repping the same hill over and over again all night long whilst being chased down the road by badgers - the training was in the bag. Now we just had to do the ride.

Leg one - 303km with 4,500m climb: Upton Magna to Llanwrtyd Wells

8am and off we roll. Its impossible to comprehend what is ahead of us. We’ve both read previous blogs, everything we can to give us insight, everything we see just confirms what we know - this is going to be fucking hard, both physically and mentally.  We also know now that today is going to be *HOT*.  The ride is broken down into sections, at the end of each section there is a control point that you have to pass through to get your card stamped, and where you can get food, drink etc. The only way to ride this ride is to break it down mentally into a section at a time - just ride that section, sit down, regroup and off you go to do the next section.

The sections roll by, as do the big hills - Long Mynd, Stiperstones and Red Lion Hill on the first section, Bwlch Llywn Bank, Llanbedr and Gospel Pass (the highest) on the second. Things are hurting now, and its now officially hot, 30 degrees, all around us people are clearly struggling and we’ve only done 160km.

The third section was mercifully a bit flatter, but all in savage heat - 200km done and at Tintern - but its 8pm and theres still 100km of work to do. Into the night we ride, and into the most stunning of sunsets - such a privilege to just be rolling along quietly on a bike witnessing sheer beauty.

One final mountain, Mynydd Eppynt, and we roll into our stop at 1am. 300km done, 715km to go.

One of the things I love about this ride is how the “bed controller” asks you at 1:30am “what time shall I wake you” and when you say “3:30am” he doesn’t blink or question your sanity - he just quietly writes it down on his sheet, shows you to your airbed and comes back at the allotted time. Sleep alas was not forthcoming that night, SNOOOOORING MAN kept the whole room awake. I guess in a room of 100 cyclists there was always going to be one snorer but hey ho.

Leg 2: 320km, 4,800m climb: Llanwrtyd Wells back to Llanwrtyd Wells 

Out of the door at 4:30am and pretty much straight onto one of the most feared climbs in the UK: Devils Staircase. Its not pleasant at the best of times, and even less pleasant after having now been on the bike for a full day now, without sleep. I’m already starting to feel nauseous, the body already telling me that its not happy with what I’m doing to it.

Up and over Devils Staircase and into a very remote section of the ride - theres simply nothing out here - the control point is “go round the back of the white house that is on your left hand side”. Clare and I both were struggling badly on this section, its a very tough 100km leg, sleep deprived and fatigued - when we were saved by the “van of dreams” - a roaming van full of sugary delights and COFFEE that also acts as a secret control - that literally saved our lives that morning.

On we roll, though the next stop at St Davids, 500km done, officially half way. That remaining half seems implausible, beyond comprehension. And now we arrive in Pembrokeshire.

NEVER EVER GO TO FUCKING PEMBROKESHIRE. 

I could just leave Pembrokeshire blank. Erase the horrors from my memory. Never to be revisited. Thats probably for the best.

But, for the record, it was the grimmest most unpleasant nasty savage 80km of riding I’ve ever done. I have no idea how long that 80km took us. It felt like we were there the entire day, just desperate to escape the misery but unable to do so - nasty nasty 1km climbs at 15 to 20%, round the corner and straight back down again to the next village by the sea. Through the village - back up another nasty climb, round the corner... repeat.... repeat... repeat.... I take photos when I am happy. No photos were taken on this section. My life and soul just left my body on this section. Never have I suffered so much misery on a bike.

The section done it was thankfully then a 80km flatting cruise back to Llanwrtyd, arriving in around 1am. 620km done, 400km to go.

Leg3a:  Llanwrtyd Wells to Lake Vyrnwy: 315km, 5,000m of climb

An hours luxurious sleep later and we’re off out again, the hardest leg ahead of us. We’re both struggling now. Everything hurts. Fatigue is beating us up. Decisions become impossible to make. The end is nowhere near in sight, you can’t even vaguely dream of the end this far out.

But we are back in familiar territory now: North Wales - we’ve both ridden here many many times, its really truly lovely.

The first section is a proper tough mountain section, up into the very remote Elan Valley, once again the van of dreams meeting us and saving our souls before a soul destroying false summit after false summit slog to the seaside at Aberystwyth, 715km done, 300km to go. We can ride 300km, we can do this. Somehow.

I have to confess I have no recollection of the next 75km to Barmouth. I was gone. 10 minutes sleep in a bus shelter saved me but I’m mentally and physically spent now, no recollection at all. Everything hurts, everything is broken but apart from that, its just a void.

Through places we know well know and bring back fond memories for us both  - Barmouth, Harlech, Beddgelert, onto the course for The Brutal extreme triathlon that we raced last year and up a secret unknown stunningly pretty climb into Llanberis, one of our spiritual homes, paying homage to the ever favourite Petes Eats to refuel us for the stage ahead. 850km done, 170km to go - “Just” a century ride left now. Any cyclist will tell you of the first century ride they did - its a mark of you being a cyclist. We’ve just done five of them back to back, in Wales - its stuff like that that make me realise the insanity of this ride, but we have just two more stages now, “just” a century ride to go.

And oh my, what a stage is ahead of us....

The final stage of the day is by far the hardest of the whole ride - a real shocker of a stage - riding into the night once more - with the most utterly stunning sunset once more - the wind now picking up - the darkness thankfully hiding the full visual impact of the climbs - just relentless savage slogs into the wind, just never ending - the row of twinkling red back lights ahead of us just stretching onwards and upwards for what seemed like forever. And then again. And again. And again. And now its raining on us, making the decents treacherous - eyes on stalks in the dark of the night slowly picking our way down off the mountain - concentration levels fighting off the fatigue simply to just survive this section. The rain gets miserable now, and its 2am, we’ve been on the road for 22 hours today and we are cold, wet and tired. But we still can’t dream of the finish.

Lake Vyrnwy finally arrives, 950km gone, 70km to go.

Leg 3b - the finish - 70km back to Upton Magna

We sleep in wet kit. But the hall is half empty - the beds no longer needed by the riders who have quit. We are there. We are in a bed. Those two hours sleep were glorious, knowing we were there. We are still there. And we are going to get this done.

Up once more at 4:30am, and its still raining - proper wet cold miserable welsh rain, soaked us all before even starting the stage. 70km isn’t far but that was just utterly miserable, soul destroying horrible and grim. Just riding in silence, too tired to try and make conversation but too far from home to start to be happy, before finally we reach Shrewsbury, the rain stops, we know where we are, we know we are close. I gotta admit I watched my Garmin click up from 999.1, 999.2...999.9 and I rode alongside Clare and sobbed like a baby when it hit 1,000km, and its making me sob like a baby once more writing this now. Riding 1,000km, thats just nuts.

And then we are home, we got it done. We got done what had seemed impossible. We did it, we did it our way, and we did it together. And we got our mug. And a lifetime of very special memories.

I ate my breakfast, and then I ate Clares...

Until next time. x