Coast to Coast Boulder Dash

Long event, longer blog. Grab a cup of tea or sit on the toilet, and settle in...

This past weekend, Rat Race re-wrote the rules of the world. 

Newton's famous "what goes up, must come down" was well and truly flipped on its head, Jim Mee (the company founder) was seen at the finish line manning the pressure washers and cleaning up rubbish, and even if you haven't stopped pedalling you definitely can fall off your bicycle.

The Crossing is an off-road mountain bike event that takes place across three National Parks, three days, and runs from the West coast to the East coast.

It was an event I hadn't entered, not owning a mountain bike, until this man below decided he would like to take part in this challenge but didn't want to run. After he'd paid up I felt guilty enough to join him, and 3 months later I finally purchased my own place.

So, James, categorically, this was all your fault.

Oh he might look happy here, but this is before we've actually started.

I think the whole thing is best summed up by this quote from Sam, one of the Rat Race staff in the bike compound after we'd finished:

You don't look happy lads! Surely you've got to smile knowing you'll probably never do something this shit again?

Day 1 broke bright and early, and we met up in the car park about 5.45 am. Helen (our super supporter, chauffeur, and logistics whizz for the weekend), Simpson, James and me. Bike checks complete, back wheels ceremonially dipped in the sea for a photograph, line up on the start line.

3, 2, 1... off we go! And the skies burst open.

No more than a couple of minutes in, and my waterproof jacket might as well have been a bin bag. Absolutely soaked to the bone I was, and cycling alongside James and Simpson we were naturally looking forward to the opening uphill slogs which made up most of the first 30km.

The rain was relentless, but while we kept pedalling in amongst the bunch, the shadows from some huge Lake District hills loomed up before us.

Inexplicably, James seemed keen to reach them, and early on he left me and Simpson for dust, sprinting off and overtaking the riders ahead before disappearing into the distance.

Simpson and I made use of some Dutch riders and their peloton formation, taking comfort from the wind break they offered, but they soon pulled away just as a storm was breaking.

We arrived at the first really big hill together, and it was here that it became clear that two mountain bike rides in preparation were just not going to cut it.

Simpson cranked through the gears and he too disappeared. My wheels seemed to fail to turn no matter how hard I pedalled, and I just couldn't keep up!

Now it was just me and my bike. And ALL of the hills.

Seriously, there are so many hills in the Lakes.

With all the ups, there had to be some downs, and believe me there were - Man Downs. Flashing down a rocky slope, my front wheel struck a carelessly placed boulder and after 15-20 metres of trying to keep under control I succumbed to gravity, skidding and rolling one way while my bike went the other.

Not only was it raining, but my jacket was ripped from wrist to shoulder, I was bleeding and I'd broken 4 spokes!

Hopefully, the first and only time I need the mandatory kit first aid supplies!

Eventually after some maintenance assistance, a few bags of Haribo, and another 50 km, I made it home. Day 1 complete. My bike went into the mechanic, and I went into the food tent.

The camp-side talk was of the horrendous hike-a-bike section where we had to rock climb and carry our bikes at the same time. Everyone agreed it was tough. James wasn't sure he'd carry on. I wasn't sure I'd be able to. Simpson was mostly unconcerned and keen for beers. Helen wouldn't let him. Time for bed!

Distance: 102 kilometres

Elevation: 1800 metres

Day 2 dawned bright and really, really, early, and Hallelujah! The sun was out! After the wind, rain and bitter temperatures overnight, it was a nice surprise.

We were gleefully informed by the start coordinator that today was going to be the longest day. James didn't hang around and he left camp early, fully intending to make it back ahead of the Dutch (alas, he didn't).

We needed a few km to get the legs moving after a heavy Day 1 and so we pedalled along, under the M6 and uphill into the heather topped moorland of the Yorkshire Dales.

Valley followed by uphill slog, followed by valley, followed by uphill slog. A 16% ride down, turn the corner, and a 20% ride up.

By now it was clear that the pattern from the day before wasn't a coincidence.

Every single time we cycled downhill, we were swiftly punched in the gut, told to stop trying to enjoy ourselves and given a big hill to climb as a reward. Old Isaac clearly hadn't accounted for the Rat Race theory of bike race gravity.

One such climb, Lamps Moss, was beautiful. Number 78 out of the Official top 100 climbs.

Spectacular scenery.

But it was an utter bastard to haul 20 kg of mountain bike and kit up.

A road biker hurtled by and shouted at us to pedal harder. Mate, your entire set up including you weighs about 10 kilos. Jog on.

The route down was nearly worth it and there was plenty of opportunity to pick up some pace through some lovely villages on the way to the pitstop at the Dales Bike Centre. 

I refuelled like a true amateur athlete, and topped up my sweets for the road.

Helen said "there are no more climbs" as I was leaving, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

What she meant was "there are no more climbs for about 100 metres until you're round the corner, then there's an absolutely massive one that might make you be sick after your Jaffa cakes and biscuits".

Not cool.

One more pick-up-your-bike-and-carry-it section and half an hour of rock climbing. My bike felt like it weighed a tonne, and so did my legs.

We were camping in Northallerton so imagine the cheers when I saw the sign pointing left saying 6 miles away.

Then I saw the Rat Race sign pointing right, and signs for the town disappeared. The rascals.

Strategic Skittles eventually got me round to the end, around 45 km after the pit stop, and Day 2 was done. No falls, but another trip to the mechanics to sort some dodgy gears.

Chat tonight revealed that someone had signed up with their friends telling them "it's only 70 miles a day on a bike". Raised eyebrows all round...

Drop outs from the ride had reached double figures by now, as well as some DQs for not carrying the mandatory kit, and we still had Day 3 to go.

Distance: 108 kilometres

Elevation: 1420 metres

Day 3. Downhill day.

The one all the seasoned mountain bike riders had been looking forward to. Based on the weather the day before I was too, quick, firm tracks and a lot of speed - it was going to be good!

And then it rained all night.

Two days and over 200km of riding in the legs, and now we had wet and sticky ground to contend with!

The forest trails were awash with sticks and soft mud. The North York Moors covered in rocks and heather. Field after fields of grazed on grass that felt like it was waist high when it was nothing of the sort.

Sure, there was downhill, and some really fast stuff, but cycling up some of this terrain was a heck of a day to finish on. I look happy, but that's only because the photographer yelled that I should try and look like I was having a good time!

Early on I kept up with Simpson, and he shouted some encouragement to me about how well I was doing before powering up another hill and out of sight, which was nice, but not at all convincing.

Everyone seemed to be finding it hard going and there were a lot of people having a lot of rest stops, so there was a lot of to-ing and fro-ing with overtaking and swapping positions. I resolved early on that my rest stops were going to be rolling rests, so all I'd do was cycle slow and make sure I kept moving. "Eat up the metres" became my mantra!

It rained a lot, but on and off, so the tracks stayed slick and my XC tyres were struggling to cope on the wet mud. Sure enough, after a few hairy near misses, my luck ran out and I downed tools again to face-plant the ground on particularly boggy stretch.

Simpson was having much the same luck and had crashed into a low hanging tree with his head - one of the few advantages of being short is that I went under it - and buckled a back wheel on some rocky trails.

And James? Well, he wasn't really having a good time. Shall we leave it there?

The pit stop on stage 3 was a delight. Everyone was knackered. It was cold and raining. And then someone piped up:

I've been in the Army, and we've done some shit things. But this is really not fun.

At this point I checked my phone, and was delighted to see several more donations had come in over the course of the weekend. If nothing else, at least our discomfort was bringing some ££s in for Anthony Nolan!

Fast forward another few hours and skip over the energy sapping cycle to Scarborough. I could see the sign to North Bay and knew that it was nearly over.

At least 5 people said "keep going, you're nearly there" every day, and at now it was finally true!

I rolled over the finish line to the sound of my name over the tannoy, a cheer from the watching crowd (including Helen and Simpson!), and a genuinely emotional feeling of accomplishment. 
Also, I have now been on my mountain bike 5 times...

Distance: 95 kilometres

Elevation: 1320 metres

As always, if anybody can spare some pennies to donate to these charity events, it would be most welcome - however large or small. I can't emphasise it enough, the knowledge that the money raised is going to help some people who really need it is powerful. It kept James and me on the course!

The link is here: JustGiving fundraising

A huge thank you to Helen for her support this weekend. She was fantastic! Driving the van, putting up tents, sorting us drinks and shopping, meeting us and encouraging us at the pit stops - all of it was very valuable and the event would have been even harder if we'd had less kit with us.

This was, as the Rat Race website says, one hell of an adventure. 

I had plenty of time cycling on my own to think about the most fun parts of the ride, so here's a list:

And some terrain awards:

Favourite surface to ride on: Flat and smooth tarmac/road, preferably downhill 

Least favourite surface to ride on: Grass, mud, forest paths, any uphill 

Most exhilarating downhill to ride on: Rocks and boulders (before a fall) 

Most terrifying downhill to ride on: Rocks and boulders (after a fall)

Do this event if:

You're actually mental

You really like cycling up hills

Don't do this event if:

You've only just bought a bike

You always buy an uplift pass

Happy to help you make up your mind!

Instagram: philvsnature

Twitter: @PhilJ0606

JustGiving: fundraising/philvsnature