Glenshee-r Agony
112.3 Miles, 7,332 ft of Elevation / 180.7 Km, 2,235 m of Elevation
Start: 07:12 Finish: 16:25 Moving Time: 7hrs 53min
Ride Across Britain: 78% Complete
Wow. Surely my best day on a bike, ever.
“When I wake up, well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man that wakes up next to you”
The proclaimers rang out from the PA system for the 5.30 AM wake up call. Occasional showers doused the campsite.
The start line opened at 6.30am but we were to meet Graham – an in-law of Ed’s – at 7am and he would ride with us for a while. He completed the event in 2019 so was happy to join us, even in the rain.
I was tardy getting my things together so Ed set off and I almost rode right by the two of them in my urge to catch up.
There are three bridges crossing the Firth of Forth at Queensferry, just to the West of Edinburgh. We took the middle one and could just see the other two beyond thick fog.
As Graham left to return home, we rode in rain to the first pit stop at Perth Racecourse. Bagpipe music played from a speaker as hundreds of cyclists came in, filled bottles, ate snacks and rolled out again.
Our first highlight was cycling alongside the ‘World’s Biggest Hedge’. The Meikleour Beech Hedge, which was planted in 1745, is one third of a mile long (530 m) and 100 ft (30 m) high.
The second was a really steep descent on a good road surface where my bike computer claims I hit 105.2km/h (65 mph). I was starting to feel the joy of letting rip downhill, judgement and bike handling honed by 8 hours of practice each day.
The main event was to be the ascent of Glenshee. Ed and I were riding again with Zoe and Andrew, both surgeons, whom it turns out have completed several ‘Ironman’ triathlons each and all the major climbs in the Alps, including several in the same day. Typically, Andrew would be stronger on the flat while Zoe would be quicker uphill and we would try to stay with her.
After some warm-up climbs we entered the long valley. Right at the end was the mountain itself, the road rising from the left at the base and wrapping up and round to the right. What we could see was steep and dotted with tiny cyclists. Beyond that lay an unknown stretch to the road’s summit.
We attacked it at whatever pace we guessed would be sustainable and from this point there was no backing down. The climb was 2.8km (1.7 miles) at 8.6% average gradient, but as we rounded the corner we saw the final ramp of over 12%.
There were no smaller gears left, just out of the saddle or in the saddle, keep going or fall off. On the ramp I decided to go all in quite early and saw my heart rate rise towards max, tunnel vision for the summit.
Ed made a surge and passed me on the right but I was absolutely in the red and couldn’t respond. He pulled out a lead of 7 seconds by the summit and we both stopped at the side of the road, breathing heavily. Zoe followed not far behind with Andrew coming in a couple of minutes later.
Immediately the relief of stopping and adrenaline of the effort combined for elation. We talked and joked with the ‘Belgian Train’ – a strong group of riders in national colours who often hurtled past on the flat but whom we nearly caught when going uphill.
We dropped down over the other side to our second pit stop at the snowsports centre, where ski lifts disappeared further up the barren slopes. There was no snow, but the temperature was falling and sweat from the ascent was cooling us too quickly, so we put on arm warmers and jackets.
Ready to go again, we embarked down into the next valley. As the climb felt like so many I watched in the Tour de France, so did the descent. We were quickly up to 65 km/h (40mph) and there was great visibility of the long turns below, plus other cyclists to call out problems with the surface.
Hands on the drops, fingers on the brakes and head tucked down, I felt the exhilaration of speed and control, the joy of a corner perfectly taken, the freedom compared to the slow progress uphill.
The valley was flanked left and right by steep slopes and a shallow, clear river flowed beautifully alongside us over clean stones. Sheep watched us whizz past, a stone bothy (shelter) stood high and alone above the river.
Ahead, a thick mist, which we realised was rain. We entered it and the drops smashed down on us, plumes of water thrown up from tyres. Just as soon as we had entered the storm we left it behind, still descending with barely a pedal stroke required.
Now on the flat, we passed Braemar Castle (c1628) and turned left off the main road for what turned out to be another long climb with some very steep pinches over 12%. For all the talk of Glenshee as the main event this was one of three stings in the tail.
We turned upwards through a pine forest, over a cattle grid and up single-track roads into heather-clad moorland. We rested at the top a moment as other riders arrived, puffing and panting and swearing about what was gone and what was to come.
The next descent was shorter and more technical but still fast, requiring careful use of brakes and moving of bodyweight to enjoy it to the full.
Yet another climb came, much shorter but with a terrifying ramp of 20% towards the top. In the lowest gear and full gas on the pedals was the only way to move – and with pedals clipped in the alternative was to fall over. I crested this one first in our group but with around 160km (100 miles) in the legs I wondered how much more I could manage.
Down the other side and we saw a long road rising up the side of the next mountain. We realised there were no other roads in sight, so this was the one we would be taking. Expletives uttered, we tried to gain momentum coming in but this quickly expired and all that was left was our own effort.
Zoe broke away but I managed to catch her and we rode at a limit, in stalemate, to the summit, with Ed and Andrew just behind. We were all stronger than we thought we could be as we faced each burning pedal stroke, with yet another challenge overcome. We could survey the world below us knowing that we had earned it.
Knowing now that the climbing was done, we could sweep down towards Strathdon, as if on a victory lap. We saw Base Camp on the right and crossed the finish line amid cheers from the friends and families of other riders.
The Cycling Eagle 