I was drenched to the skin. It had only been raining hard for ten minutes, but water was running in streams down from the moors and across the road. It slowed my descent, because despite the almost perfect downhill (a gentle decline with long, sweeping bends) the minor flooding posed a hazard and I did not want to come off my bike up here. I laughed at the ridiculous sight I must be to the few passing cars and let out a little whoop of joy. This was the best part of my All Points North ride. Sure, other bits were probably more beautiful, there had certainly been better weather and I’d had some other wonderful long downhills after some fantastic climbs, but this climb and descent over the moors between Stanhope and Barnard Castle felt the best. Which given how dejected I’d felt that Sunday morning signified a significant change in my mood.
I’d left Sheffield, full of nerves and excitement, 3 days beforehand with a route planned around the ten control points covering around 660 miles and 37,000ft or 11,340m of elevation gain to make it back to Sheffield for the Finishers Dinner on Monday evening. My first control point was Emley Tower on the moors north of Sheffield. It was great to have this landmark come into view when I still had 10 or so miles to go and I was pleased to have ticked off my first control around 3 hours in, though I was already slower than I’d planned for. I’d expected my average speed to be around 11mph, but actually I was doing less than 9mph. I didn’t see all the other riders’ bikes and gear, but I’d confidently hazard a guess that my bike and gear weighed in at the heavy end. I redid the calculations in my head about speed, time and distance and worked out I could still make it back to Sheffield on Monday night, I just might be a bit later than planned. I reminded myself that I was not racing, that this was a personal challenge and an opportunity to raise money for the brilliant work Village Service Trust (VST) supports in ‘my bit’ of India.
Having answered the question in my brevet card and taking my selfie with Emley Tower behind me as evidence I set off for the next control point, Scar House reservoir, where I intended to bivvy for the night. I was feeling good and was looking forward to cycling in the dark, something I’d not really done. Riding into my old university city of Bradford I stopped to take a quick picture in front of the triangular city hall and after navigating a few roadworks found myself on the best bit of city cycling infrastructure I’ve experienced in the UK. Separate, high quality bike path, which was not constantly interrupted with needing to give way at junctions or dodge pedestrians. It was an absolute joy. Before long I was out the other side and on my way to Otley where I stopped briefly for a drink and some crisps at a pub so I could refill my water bottles before it got too late. I’d turned my lights on when leaving Bradford as it was dusk and by the time I left Otley I needed to have them on full beam so I could properly see the road. As I climbed away from Otley it started to rain but it felt like an adventure to be out on rural roads in the dark. That was until my lights started to run out of battery. After passing through the excellently names Blubberhouses I turned towards Pateley Bridge, in the failing light I hit three large potholes in succession and decided that despite only being about 15 miles from the next control point and my planned bivvy spot for the night I should stop as soon as possible to avoid an accident. I turned a few corners, the road flattened out with a nice wide grassy verge sheltered by trees and I pulled over and set up my bivvy. It was just before 11pm. As it was my first time with this set up I wasn’t super efficient and I realised that other than the crisps and a few sweets I’d not eaten since lunch. I’d packed some couscous for dinner and so to escape the rain and midges I attempted to spoon couscous into my mouth inside my hooped bivvy before closing my eyes for some sleep. I woke up around 4:30am and was on the road again just after 5am having breakfasted on homemade flapjack while swatting midges and trying to keep wet and dry gear separated as I packed. Descending into Pateley Bridge I was pleased I’d stopped where I did as the road quality was poor and the hills steep. I made it to a deserted Scar House just before 7am (control point 2) where I ate a bit more couscous (not a great second breakfast), filled in the brevet card and took the obligatory selfie. I rode across the dam to where I intended to take an offroad track across the moors. I’m not a fan of off-road riding, but this 4-mile stretch would provide the double benefit of both knocking about 30 miles off the route to the next control point and avoiding steep climbs out of the valley so it was worth it. Except that when I reached the path a large sign said it was not suitable for cycles and the bouldery, rough initial stretch felt like proof that this was indeed true. There was nothing for it but to turn around and go back the way I’d come. I decided to head back to Pateley Bridge where I hoped a café might be open and I could get a hot drink while I decided whether to rejig my route or just add another 30 miles to my overall mileage.
The only place open was the garage so I got a disappointing hot chocolate from the machine and sat on the wall and pondered my options. I decided that rather than adding 30 miles I’d head off towards what would have been control point 4, Cross o’ Greet Bridge near the Trough of Bowland, knocking off a few miles and then detour to Dales Bike Centre when heading back down the East coast towards the end of my ride. As I finished my hot chocolate I nervously eyed the hill out of Pateley Bridge – the sign at the foot of it warned of slow cyclists for 2 miles and 16% gradients. Steep hills have never been my forte, and when we did the cycle tour back in 2015 I wrote about a feeling I’d get that I termed ‘hill dread’, I could feel it bubble up a little, but I kept it at bay with some positive self-talk and a reminder that I’d been training so my fitness levels were better than the early days of the cycle tour. I started up the hill and while it was definitely tough, I pedalled all the way up and wasn’t too puffed out at the top. I did however get a few twinges in the nerves at my lower back, which I noted but decided I’d try to ignore.
A couple of hours later I stopped in Grassington for some hot food and a cuppa. It had been fairly dry, but it was surprisingly cold and I’d been up for about 6 hours. I was also nervous about charging my lights for later that day so wanted to give my power banks a bit of a recharge. Despite my best attempts to ignore it the nerves around my hip were not happy and coupled with the cold, my forced route change and being ‘behind schedule’ I was feeling quite low. I also got hit by a major wave of tiredness, almost falling asleep in the café, and I thought I may need to stop for a nap somewhere. After my sausage sandwich and hot drinks I thought I’d best leave the warmth of the café and get back on the road, especially since the next control point and climb were the only parts of the route I had previously ridden and it was a really lovely climb. I had another little stop in Slaidburn, making use of the good public loos, necking a Coke in the hopes of keeping the tiredness at bay and eating a load of cheese biscuits while chatting with some of the motor bikers also taking break. The weather improved a little as I climbed and I was caught up by a guy out on an afternoon ride to the top of Tatham Fell from Clitheroe. We had a bit of a chat while we pedalled side-by-side and then as I stopped at the bridge to do my control point duty he carried on up the hill. Brevet card completed and photo taken I began my climb. This is a beautiful long, gentle climb with spectacular scenery and minimal cars and I knew from a ride a few weeks ago that the downhill on the other side where I’d turn west towards the Lakes was long and gentle too. As he sailed back down the hill towards me we cheered each other on and I felt grateful for this little bit of company on an otherwise empty stretch of road. While stopping to layer up at the top I was approached by a mangy-looking sheep caught in a vicious sneezing fit. I imagined this as the opening scene of a comedy horror film (Black Sheep anyone?) but thankfully the sheep lost interest and wandered off.
Descending towards the coast was great and I particularly loved the change of scenery once I was near Sandside, super flat and lush green with glimpses of the water. It’s one of the things I love about travelling by bike – it’s slow enough (especially at my snail pace!!) that you can appreciate your surroundings and really feel like you are part of the landscape but fast enough to travel between wildly different scenery. I enjoyed quiet country roads that hugged the sides of hills, rather than going up and down them and despite the fact I’d been in the saddle for around 12 hours I was feeling ok and pleased I’d not needed to stop for a nap. As I entered the Lake District the roads got hillier again and by 9pm I was ready to stop for the day. My initial plan had been to check off the control point at Buttermere and then bivvy on a quiet road near Penrith, but given that would have required me to cover another 50 miles mostly in the dark, as I entered Windemere in the failing light I started wondering where I might lay my head for the night. I’d left it too late to get any proper food anywhere but was keen to refill my water bottles and so as I approached the Rising Sun pub with its inviting looking beer garden I decided I’d call in here and assess the likelihood of me being able to pitch my bivvy behind a picnic table after dark. I ordered a shandy and some crisps while I tried to work out whether I should outright ask about sleeping in their beer garden (and whether or not this was against the rules) or just do it stealthily. Some guests checked into the upstairs rooms and I decided that I would ask if they had any rooms available as this might provide a useful way in to ask about camping. Amazingly, despite being in Windemere and at the start of the bank holiday weekend they had a single room as someone had cancelled just hours before. I decided to take it since it would give me an opportunity to dry my wet kit, have a shower and fully charge all my electricals (phone, power banks and lights).
The shower was magnificent. This is another thing I love about cycle touring – how much you appreciate the things it’s so easy to take for granted in normal life. Having draped my wet kit over every available surface, plugged in my various devices and warmed my insides with a herb tea I got into bed and fell asleep. As I’d only had about 4.5 hours of sleep the previous night I wanted to give myself 6 to try and recharge my batteries so I set my alarm for 5:30am and was on my bike just before 6:30am. I arrived in Keswick in the sunshine around 8am and since I’d not had any dinner the night before I was hungry and really craved a fried egg. I found The Hot Tram Roll in a carpark and ordered a delicious egg and sausage bap. As an aside, this place has an epic selection of sauces! My route after the Buttermere control point meant I would be passing back through Keswick so since I had a pretty significant climb over Newlands Pass and back I left my pannier bags at the kiosk. Boy am I glad I did! Newlands Pass is apparently easier than Honister Pass (the other obvious route), but with gradients of 25% it’s far from easy. This section of the route was the first time I crossed paths with multiple other APN riders. As I hit the steepest section of the climb I had to get off and push, which I felt a bit better about since two other riders ahead of me were doing the same. Both the steep sections I’d pedalled up and the beyond-steep sections I pushed my bike up set my nerves off again, and again I tried to ignore it and hoped a handful of painkillers would take my mind off it.
Despite the discomfort, that valley and the view from the top is breathtakingly beautiful and I stopped to take a couple of pictures. The descent towards Buttermere was equally steep, with a smattering of sheep and patches of poor road quality – that is to say not a fun downhill, made even worse by the constant thought that once the control point was reached I’d need to turn around and climb back up. As I approached the control point the two riders who I’d seen climb up ahead of me were sat on the boulders. We had a brief chat, including cursing the organisers who we agreed were clearly sadists and discussed our trepidation of the next control point, Great Dun Fell, which is known to be as steep but higher than the climbs we’d just done to reach the shores of Buttermere. One of the riders said he’d had a genius idea to stash his bags at the base, since it’s another out and back, and I confessed I had already done the same in Keswick. We agreed that this was fine from a rules perspective as nothing said you couldn’t do this and if a few of us were doing it, then it was obviously a legit tactic.
I bid them good luck as they pedalled off and filled in my brevet card and took my photo. With my back twinging I was dreading the climb back over. I contemplated just stopping here, it was a nice spot and the sun was shining, I could wait it out for Tom to come and rescue me. But I reminded myself I’d signed up to APN to push myself and despite the fact this next bit wouldn’t be fun, it was part of it and I just needed to start. It didn’t matter if it took me ages or if I walked the whole thing, I just needed to get over a hill. So I got back on my bike and pedalled back the way I came. I did end up pushing my bike up a big chunk of it, but I did it and the views at the top were utterly incredible, again. The descent was bumpy and I could hear my bike lock knocking against my pannier rack on the bigger bumps, I was a bit worried I may have not bungeed it securely enough, but when I stopped to give it a little shake it seemed pretty solid. I arrived back at The Hot Tram Roll, picked up my bags, necked a drink and was about to be on my way when I noticed that my back tyre was rubbing. I thought it was my mudguard so spent a bit of time trying to bend it away from the tyre before I realised the actual issue. I’d lost a nut connecting my pannier rack to my bike so it was not being held up and was causing the rubbing. Luckily there was a bike shop a couple of minutes’ walk away (E-Venture Bikes) and they kindly dug out an appropriate nut, cut it to size and helped me secure everything back in place. They also refilled my water bottles and kept an eye on my bike while I nipped into the Booths opposite. I very foolishly did not buy myself any lunch, which I should have done. Instead, I got myself some snacks and a rehydration drink.
Given how painful the climb over Newlands Pass had been I decided that I would miss Great Dun Fell and head straight for Rookhope Arch. I was disappointed, but my physio’s advice was ringing in my ears and I didn’t want to do myself any long term nerve damage – I have enough problems with the misshapen and arthritic hip joint I have without adding nerve issues to it. I finally left Keswick having worked out a new route and headed north of Penrith towards Alston. Tom had ridden through Alston when he did the Coast to Coast more than a decade ago and I remember how picturesque the climb is and how awesome the views were. I was looking forward to it as it was my kind of climb (not steep). Unfortunately as I rode through Unthank, I was indeed unthankful for the headwind which had picked up. This made for slow progress even before the climb over Hartside Summit began, with even the downhills requiring a decent amount of effort to keep moving forward. I ended up riding for a while with a C2C rider who was clearly in need of some company. Despite being in a group of 5 – two of the riders were way ahead and two far behind with this guy caught in the middle. It was nice to have someone to talk to for a bit and took my mind off the frustrating wind. I waved goodbye to him at the summit and enjoyed a wonderful downhill into “the highest market town in the country”. It was 6:30pm when I got into Alston and headed into a pub for some dinner. Other than some snacks I’d not eaten anything since the breakfast bap. Despite being in a warm pub I was shivering, the soup helped (and was delicious) but I struggled to eat the burger and chips I ordered for main and afterwards I felt really bad. The weather forecast looked terrible and the thought of trying to find somewhere to bivvy up on the moors did not sound appealing. Despite covering so few miles I decided to see if the hostel in Alston had any camping options. Once again, the universe was kind to me and when I looked at the website it showed one single room was available. I booked it.
Despite the relatively comfortable warm bed and another wonderful shower I slept so badly. My nerves were on fire and I struggled to find a position where I wasn’t in pain. The strangest thing was that it wasn’t just the nerves around my hip, but also my shoulder near my neck felt like I was getting a tattoo – this is the feeling I get when I get shingles and while I couldn’t see anything on the skin I was concerned about the fact the nerve issues seemed to be spreading. In the morning I made the difficult decision that I would not attempt to reach the 3 control points along the Eastern coast, Union Chain Bridge, Druridge Bay and Danby Beacon. I would instead tick off Rookhope Arch, then head for Dales Bike Centre and back to Sheffield. I felt really dejected. I was worried about letting my friends, family and supporters down. I was worried I’d regret the decision. I felt like a failure. I text Ange the organiser to let her know my plans and asked if I was still allowed to attend the finishers dinner if I didn’t technically finish. I posted on Facebook so those watching my dot knew what I was planning. Then, feeling exhausted and sad, I made myself some rehydration drink, ate a full English breakfast at the hostel and vowed to eat and drink more, and more regularly, for the rest of the ride.
Ange replied saying of course I could still go to the dinner, kind and encouraging replies to my post started popping up from friends and Tom reassured me that looking after myself was a wise and right decision. I got back on my bike and pedalled out of Alston and up over the moors where every few seconds cyclists taking part in a time trial flew towards me down the hill. As I climbed the last hill before the Rookhope Arch control point I was joined by a trio of C2C riders, a 17-year-old, his mum and his uncle, who I chatted with for a bit on the climb. It started to rain quite heavily at the top and while they paused to take photos I descended towards my control point where I took a quick photo, filled in my brevet card, shovelled a handful of sweets in my mouth and got back on the bike. When I went to pull up the next section of route I found I couldn’t. There was no signal and despite the fact I had saved my newly revised routes they were not showing up on my phone. I knew I needed to head through Rookhope and on to Stanhope where I knew there were shops and cafes so I would figure out my tech issues there. I made a quick stop in the public loos in Rookhope to put on my merino as it was cold and I knew it would keep me warm even if it was wet. Just out of the village I came to a fork in the road and could see they both led to Stanhope but the left was the ‘cycle route’ so I took it. There is a special place in hell for the people who choose these to be the ‘cycle routes’ of our country. I needlessly climbed an 18% hill, descended through closed gates and tracks filled with cattle, when I could have hugged the river below. Oh well. I used this as an opportunity to continuously repeat my mantra ‘this is a privilege not a chore’ and remind myself that it’s all good training – even if it did hurt.
I pulled into the visitors centre in Stanhope, lent my bike against a soggy picnic table as the bike rack was full and made my way into the café. Inside a man approached me and asked if I was doing All Points North. I was a little shocked at the recognition, but he explained he’d taken part previously and was dot watching as a friend of his was doing it this year. He invited me to sit at his table, I ordered soup and tea and we chatted for a while about the event and the area. David was a font of useful knowledge and I have picked up some tips from him about how I would approach future events. He also told me that a number of riders had been scratching due to the terrible weather and that while I may be heavily laden, at least I had the kit to stay warm and safe and make it back to the finish line. Talking to David really boosted my mood. While I still think I could (and should) have packed a little less, he validated many of my choices and made me feel better about being able to get back to the finish line on my own steam. I also managed to get my maps sorted out (hint, saving is not the same as downloading). David warned me that the pass between here and Barnard Castle was one of the highest in England, but that following a steep start it was relatively gentle. His main concern was the weather up there, when he’d done APN they’d had snow up there!
David took some photos of me as I left the café then, unbeknownst to me, drove past me and parked up at the top of the steep section and took film of me, very slowly, climbing past him. He then drove up the hill to check the conditions and then drove back to let me know that it looked safe. The sun almost came out, the views were spectacular and I was accompanied by curlews and lapwings. I felt so much better than that morning. It started to rain lightly, but this did nothing to dampen my mood. I was going to take some magnificent photos at the top to show everyone how beautiful this part of the world is, but as I reached the summit the rain grew to torrential and I didn’t want to risk soaking my phone and battery pack. Visibility was poor, but luckily there were very few cars and none going in my direction so I was able to enjoy the descent as best I could and make full use of the width of the road to cross the water gushing in front of me at what looked to be the safest sections. I was feeling a hundred times better than I had that morning, but still as I got closer to Barnard Castle I wondered if I would be safer stopping there than continuing to Dales Bike Centre. Luckily as I reached Barney the sun came out and visibility was restored so I happily continued the final few miles to Dales where I would bivvy for the night. I hadn’t realised how much I’d struggle mentally with the bivvying, the bad weather really didn’t help, but I found it surprisingly anxiety-inducing not knowing where I would stay. I say surprising as it wasn’t something that bothered me on the cycle tour. I don’t know if that’s because I was with Tom, or because we were in North America, or the weather was generally better, or the mileage was a lot less, but despite the fact I could easily have gone further that Sunday I had decided I would camp at Dales as I knew I was allowed to and that lifted a significant mental load.
I was greeted by two volunteers who stamped my brevet card and showed me around the facilities. Ready for some dinner I walked with one of them down to the local pub where we ate and chatted about APN and cycling. I slept well in my bivvy under a lovely tree and set off towards Sheffield. Given the state of my hip/nerves I’d opted for a slightly longer but pretty flat route suggested by David – the old A-road running north-south which had since been replaced by the A1(M) was a long, pretty straight, mostly flat road that was relatively quiet these days. I joined it near Catterick and enjoyed the simplicity of easy riding and minimal navigation. The weather was extremely changeable and despite the occasional stop to put on or take off my raincoat, I was making good progress. I struggled with the sense of failure. This isn’t how I had expected the ride to go and I was really disappointed that I had not been able to complete it. I was surprised to find myself thinking about next time and how I might approach it differently. I also thought a lot about doing another ride to tick off the control points I had missed. The ride back to Sheffield was uneventful and my pain levels back to normal, but again this left me questioning if I had made the right choice not to push on for the other checkpoints. I guess this is part of attempting something like this – if you don’t just successfully complete it and if you need to make a call to bail there will always be doubts. I tried to remind myself that it was good that I had at least tried and that despite not completing it I had managed to raise over £1000 for VST and that in itself was a success of sorts.
I was abruptly pulled out of my reflection when on a quiet country lane near the outskirts of Rotherham I came across evidence of fly tipping in the hedgerows. On both sides of the road the verges were filled with the detritus of modern life – bottles, wrappers, cans, packets, paper. It was shocking and dreadful and as I pedalled on I was horrified to see it lasted for literally miles. I can only assume someone drove a full bin truck up there and then drove along discharging their load along this lane. I suspect it might have completely blocked the road at one point. I had managed to avoid thinking much about work for the majority of the ride, but here as I cycled through an otherwise beautiful lane I was left thinking about waste crime and my day job.
As I pedalled on and through Sheffield back to the start I was looking forward to getting off my bike and seeing Tom. As I turned the corner to see the finish line I clocked not just Tom, but also our friends Prav, Laura and Jim. This was a big surprise and I felt so touched they’d made the effort to welcome me home. Shortly after we were joined by more friends, Jane, Duncan and Thom and I enjoyed a delicious pint at the Two Brothers pub around the corner. One of the prevailing thoughts that has remained with me both throughout the ride and since is that this ride takes part in a beautiful part of the world, but that actually I’d hazard a guess that anywhere you got to spend time outside, moving along under your own power with time to appreciate the wonder of the living world around you that you would always declare it as a beautiful part of the world.
Before the evening was over Tom and I were making plans to take part as a pair in next year’s All Points North.
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