This was the first major ride for me after having James. In fact this was one of the first rides I had done in a very long time, as finding opportunities to leave the house have been rare. Occasional zwift sessions had also been a bit of a challenge too. Anxious doesn’t quite do justice to how I felt about undertaking the event, despite being my third time. We also didn’t have anyone who could bail us out so it was either do it, or don’t.
My parents arrived to babysit, and after a rapid morning induction into James’ routine, and repeated reassurance from them that they would be fine (“We’ve done this before you know!”) me and Steve set off, a small little chubby baby hand pressed against the window, and making me feel horrid for leaving. However, this was something which I had wanted to do for over a year, and with a pre-booked, prepaid coach transport back that I didn’t want to waste.
First we cycled to Appleby station, a rolling 7 mile ride which was enjoyable, despite the few drops of rain along the way. We arrived in good time for the train (unlike the last time I attempted the route). My hay fever started to become noticeable, and whilst on the train I used every spray, drop and tablet I had to hand. I had to keep my eyes closed for a while since my eyes were stinging and itching. I honestly thought I would have to DNS since eyes are important to help stay on the road. Luckily, after a visit to Carlisle toilets and a good face wash later, the effects of the pollen had subsided enough to be manageable.
After helping some tourists and a lost RttS cyclist through Carlisle we pootled off to Sainsburys, where we stocked up on supplies and meal deals: milkshake, wrap and chocolate for me and a massive ploughman’s sub and coke for Steve. Then we headed to Bitts Park to begin the ride.
We collected our badges, and set up our GPS’s, and at exactly 5pm, we began. I kept telling myself that if it all went wrong, we could bow out at Gretna or at Lockerbie, where the closest station to Moffat along the route was located. The cycle out of Carlisle went well, and we were able to spot other RttS riders as we went along. The sun was shining, and it was incredibly warm, but we kept a good comfortable pace, reaching Longtown. The bike shop there had put out a little banner wishing everyone on the route a good ride!
As we headed towards Gretna, we passed, and were passed by more riders, and noted a fair few travelling in the other direction: were they riders doing the double, or were they just bemused day riders? At Gretna we stopped at the sign to Scotland for the obligatory photo, and fixed a loose screw on my bottle cage, which was the cause of a mysterious and ominous rattling sound. This was the only mechanical we had to stop for en-route.
We kept going, and soon were on the long straight roads which ran along the A74M. The sun was still shining but there was just enough breeze to be comfortable. Steve and I shared cycling in front, passing through the little villages and hamlets along the way. Some other Sonder riders passed us, cheering and complimenting our obvious good taste in bike choice. Another rider started to draft us, and after a few minutes came forward to have a chat: it was her first time but had seen it happen many times as a resident of Moffat. She asked me what to look forward to: ‘Definitely the tail lights stretching out up there Beef Tub, and piper’ I responded. Eventually she rode away, leaving us to our own pace.
Around Lockerbie, I realised that I wasn’t as fatigued as I usually would have been at this point on the ride. In the past my riding strategy has been ‘cycle how I think a cyclist should cycle’ which meant grinding along and becoming fatigued quickly. It results (as I also told the lady) with crying in a field and becoming very whiney. Poor Steve has been a large part of the reason I have completed it in the past. Due to better eating, feeling and drinking and cycling at a comfortable cadence and gear and pace, I was in a much better place. We were even able to pass other riders; something which is a bit of a rarity for me. This confidence was immediately overwhelmed by pangs of guilt of being apart from little James: it was also a bad idea to tune into the baby monitor and see a small little overtired baby being unhappy, even with my mum hugging and comforting him.
We were cheered on by a small group of teens a few miles before Moffat and also chose to take the more adventurous route along the cycle path before ambling down the hill into the town. We immediately headed for the co-op, a much better option than the fish and chips for me, as I remember very well vomiting it half way up the hill the first time I did the ride. We used the station park toilets, where I washed my face free of pollen and sat on the picnic table to consume our 2x meal deals. This time I had a yoghurt, a ploughman’s and a lilt, with a milkshake, bacon wrap and brownie saved for later. The baby monitor now displayed a sleeping baby, so I quickly rang my parents and had the report that it had been a lovely day, but he had been tricky to nap and sleep, since it was the first time anyone other than me or Steve had done so. By laying down on our bed which smelt of us had calmed him and helped him settle better for sleep time.
We headed back onto the bike and towards the Main Street of Moffat. It was a massive surprise that a full blown market was occurring, with the street full of stalls of cake, goods and drinks! We ended up watching a street fire-eater performance and were able to buy a small little bottle of liqueur for my parents to say thank you for babysitting (very small, since it had to fit in our bike bags). We wandered up the street towards the cyclist end, and saw the massive queue for the fish shop, and the hundreds of riders and bikes scattered all around. After refilling the water bottles, donning the hi-vis and mounting the lights we set off towards the Devils Beef Tub.
This is a hill which I have completed, but never well. There has been a lot of puffing and whimpering and pain and exhaustion, and many many rest stops. This time I managed the whole thing with one stop, for photos, and was able to keep up a comfortable cadence. I was able to look around and enjoy the lights front and back. I was overtaken countless time, and occasionally did the same to others. In previous years, we have set off too early for the piper and possibly a bit too late as well, but this year we seemed to be in heart of all the riders and got to the top as the pipers were playing. We joined the horde surrounding them, took a few photos and were eaten alive by midges. The pipers didn’t seem to be suffering at all, or put on a very brave face.
It was still very warm at the top of the hill, and I decided to not put on my jacket, and we pushed on, the descent into Tweedmuir and towards the crook inn being enjoyable. We had to avoid frogs along the way; some riders had not been as fortunate. I continued to pass people too! Half way through we hit some traffic lights, and Steve had only just begun to drink from his bottle when the lights turned. The Crook Inn seemed to take its time to arrive, and a well lit house disappointed us both. It was obvious which one it was however; a giant Bananaman ushered in and told us to help ourselves to bananas and the rave.
I immediately went to join the toilet queue, which took about 10mins. It was a mad coincidence but the lady we had chatted to close to the start was behind me! She had enjoyed it so far, and told me she was staying in Edinburgh afterwards. Inside the toilet block seemed to be every midge in Scotland, much to our horror. I went off and grabbed some smidge and glow bands along with a banana. After a little snack and a drink, me and Steve headed off again.
Within seconds of leaving the Inn it became dark and quiet, the sound seemed to be directed up the valley rather than down it. The roads also changed, and whilst still full of frogs (some of which were alive and some unfortunately had been squished by others) the surface was rough and felt like riding on a washing machine. Occasionally there were smooth sections but these were disappointingly fleeting. Landmarks which I had seen before came and went; a memorable bus stop where dawn had broken on us when I was very slow. Possibly the field where I went to lie down in once. Steve stopped for a toilet break and was able to catch me up after several minutes, when I was on a short climb. There was one emergency stop we did: Steve suspected my tyre had a puncture, but on inspection it seemed to be fine. In the light, we realised I had got a puncture, but the sealant had done its job and sealed the tyre for me.
At one point, the sound of disembodied singing could be heard on the breeze, and as we rounded the corner we passed what was probably a wedding venue. We seemed to be surrounded by riders, some in front and passing and others getting closer and then behind us. After a glorious bit of downhill, Steve asked to stop for a food break: we went over a crossroads and joined a A road; dead quiet at this time apart from all the cyclists. A lay down the grass seemed to be a great idea, but turned out to be terrible, all the aches and pains presented themselves within moments. Standing up and moving helped me to ignore them. We had a brownie each and I tried a gel (apple wasn’t the nicest flavour) and set off again, only to stop for Steve to adjust his mudguard which was squeaking on the tyre.
The ride through Penicuik and Edinburgh seemed to drag at this point. After the downhill, we hit Penicuik: this was exciting since it felt like we had hit civilisation (also if we needed a taxi, they could find us!). Unfortunately it also feels like Edinburgh and it was deceptive that we were still not there. I got sworn at by a group of stoned lads, for being unable to high five them whilst speeding past through the town. I was able to zoom over the Edinburgh bypass and race across the roundabouts, still surrounded by other riders. There was a glorious stretch of downhill and we were completing it as a group, many cyclists all flying through the early morning, much to the confusion of the clubbers and early morning risers.
As we got close to the city centre, we were all slowed by the traffic lights and taxis. Me and Steve soon became part of an even larger group. This also had its problems for me. It meant that I was at the wrong angle when I slipped into a tram track (the only one on the route), and I went flying off the bike. My hands are knees took a proper battering, and the bike handlebar tape got shredded.
It delighted the drunks who all screamed ‘Whaaayyyyy!!!’ It was sort of embarrassing.
Luckily Steve stopped and checked up on me, as did several others, and I was immediately able to jump back on and keep going. Nothing had fallen off and I was (mostly) in tact. However my knee now ached bad and I had a pretty gnarly graze; the blood kept trickling down my shin. My hands had luckily been protected by my gloves but were very red when I was able to check.
We were really close to the end at Crammond, and I was determined to complete it. We passed many people, some of which had been unlucky and punctured just a few short km’s to the finish! One guy was determinedly pushing his bike there it seemed.
We arrived and headed straight down to the quayside; we had made it for dawn, arrived pretty much bang on time. We grabbed ourselves a beer and then headed straight up the hill again to Crammond Hall, where I went to seek out a first aid kit and the toilet followed by the most brilliant bacon sandwich. We were both tired, but happy to have completed it, and I was elated that I felt so good after such a long time away from the saddle.
We hung about for a while to get the coach back, where we were able to grab a short nap, before arriving in Carlisle promptly at 8.30am. The lorry carrying our bikes however, expected around 30mins later was delayed until 9.45am, as it was almost involved in a crash, the driver said he was yards away from it.
This meant we missed the ideal train at 9.20, and then had to wait until 12.30pm for the next one; I had been mostly awake for around 30hrs at this point and was exhausted. When 6 bikes turned up (to fit into the 2 allocated spaces) I could have cried. I was so sure we would not be allowed on. The conductor, grumpy though he was, allowed us to sit in the disabled spaces.
We were able to be in these until Appleby, when a man with walking sticks arrived, along with other bikes. We decided to get off (we had really wanted to go to Kirkby Stephen) and trudged up the hills to home, the longest and most punishing ride of the weekend. However, at home was James, a shower and a very much needed nap and it was well worth it.