Blazing Saddles on Shap Fell
118 Miles, 6,086 ft of Elevation / 190 Km, 1,855 m of Elevation
Start: 07:12 Finish: 16:15 Moving Time: 7hrs 35mins
Ride Across Britain: 55% Complete
We woke to a hazy sunrise over the racecourse and took longer than usual to get ready. It was laundry pick-up day so we retrieved the cycling gear handed in the night before.
By the time we got to the bike racks, they looked deserted: we were almost the last to leave. However, we made up time cutting past traffic in the suburbs of Preston.
We entered the Lune Valley and started criss-crossing the M6 on the country lanes North. The sun was out again but at this stage the temperature was still comfortable.
Gradually winding, we entered the Trough of Bowland. Country lanes lined with dry stone walls rolled through the landscape, with farms, hills and mountains beyond under a deep blue sky.
At some point here we passed halfway from Land’s End to John O’Groats – a banner at the second pit stop marked the achievement and riders queued up to send photos to family and friends.
All the talk was of Shap Fell, which loomed on the day’s elevation profile, rising for 15km (9 miles) out of Kendal, into the Lake District to an altitude of 420m (1,378ft).
We formed a group with Andrew and Zoe, a couple from Canterbury, and tried to set a challenging pace we could all manage.
As we approached on the busy main road, cars and trucks hurtled past and the sun reached its apex above our heads.
The scale of the scenery was suddenly much bigger. Even after the lower slopes, Kendal and Bowland looked tiny over our shoulders to the left. Each turn revealed more huge, mountainous landscape, clad with heather and grazed upon by a few hardy sheep.
Now came the last push to the summit, a long drag, where you could see exactly what was to come from the line of cyclists dotted up in front. The temperature hit 30 degrees and we all hit our limits.
Everything felt like heat and pain, and no breeze brought relief. Only getting off the bike, or reaching the summit could end it, and I was not getting off. We put in a final surge and – around 50 minutes after we started climbing – made it to a group of supporters, who cheered and rang cowbells.
As we waited for Andrew, more riders finished to the same plaudits, their faces red and sweat dripping onto their bikes.
The descent over the other side was long, fast, cool and bliss. We only hit 66km/h (41mph) but it felt much faster compared with the upward slog before.
In the village below was an extra drinks stop, next to a school where the children were out cheering the riders. We hid in the shade and drank cold fizzy drinks from the shop over the road.
Passing a farm, a huge banner on the side of a truck declared: “Ash and Dean smashing it from Land’s End to John O’Groats”. More family and further banners dotted this part of the route, cheering on not just the eponymous pair, but each of us that passed.
With 150km (93 miles) already covered, the 40km remaining would be the ‘hard bit’ – or at least the next edition of scores of ‘hard bits’ so far.
We climbed through Penrith and onto the long, straight, rising and falling A6. It was hot, exposed and there was nothing left in the tank, but riding as a group we eventually made it to the turn off at Carlisle, into country lanes again and a very steep final few kilometers.
Cresting the top of one steep rise, we saw cyclists sitting to our right, unable to resist the lure of a pub at the top of a hill.
They tried to persuade us to join them, but we knew that to stop for one pint would be to stop forever. On we pushed and suddenly the base camp appeared on the right, with yet another nine hours done, utterly exhausted.
Tomorrow: into Scotland.
The Cycling Eagle 