We simply wanted to ride to the Moors and did so, however we had not calculated that we would eventually be enveloped in the dark night in the middle of nowhere with no lights on our return and so had no choice but to ring our fathers to come and bail us out. One solo trip ended in the village of Bainton where I had a wrecked rear derailleur and it was about 8 pm when I "packed".
Although I had done centuries on a mountain bike as well as a hybrid before, after getting a new road bike I wanted to roll back the years and finally complete the century to Pickering and back without posting a DNF. I knew there would be some tough hills to conquer, some of 14% and I only had a double chainring. To test the bike out in some minor hills I went for a shakedown ride of 42 miles just two days before the long one and found that I could climb more or less OK in the big ring, so there seemed to be no great problem.
On the day, I realised there would be one big difference between doing a century on a road bike as opposed to a MTB and that was I couldn't carry any luggage. All I had was a vacant water bottle holder that held my camera, a tiny saddle bag full of tools, three jersey pockets and that was it. My minidisc/radio player sat in one pocket and a debit card and some bananas in the others. So at about 1100 on a hot sunny day I pointed my bike in a northerly direction and headed for the hills.
There was a fair tailwind and progress was fairly rapid. Beverley was passed and then I was out on the B1248 which goes all the way to the town of Malton. It was a fine day and soon I reached some fairly demanding hills around Tibthorpe and then the oddly named Wetwang was reached. Channel 4 Countdown's Richard Whiteley is apparently the Mayor of Wetwang. I called in at a small corner shop to replenish the water bottle and then headed off in pursuit of my own personal "Alpe d'Huez" (although the famous Tour De France stage is "only" a 10% hill). My challenge was a 14% hill which had always defeated us and made us push our bikes up the long drag out of Fimber.
I sat up on the bars and got into a steady rhythm as I struggled up the
beast, eventually a rapid full lung opening breathing pattern emerged
until the gradient started to flatten out and I could at last catch my
breath. More hills until the border with North Yorkshire was reached at
the summit at 650 feet, no big deal, but hey, it's all relative. There was
now a rapid descent into North Grimston down a 14% drop which I kept down
to a relatively safe 25 mph by feathering the brakes.
It was now a short run into Malton where at a crossroads a familiar voice
appeared, saying that it was pointless riding the 16 miles to Pickering
and back and why don't I turn around and go home now. Before I could give
in, the lights changed and I rode there after all. I was 50 miles up in 2
hrs and 45 minutes, an average of 18.2 mph, not bad at all. Lots of
tourists thronged the streets but all I wanted to do was turn around and
head for home. After stocking up on Lucozade at the BP garage on the edge
of town it was time to get the hell out. A stiff headwind was now present,
so it was down onto the drops for long periods until Malton was reached
again.
The dreaded 14% climb up to "The Peak" out of Grimston was
tackled for a short while until a loud crack was heard. To my horror, the
right pedal had cracked right through, it was hanging off and was, in a
pedal capacity essentially useless. Ahead of me was this hill and then
nothing but small villages for 30 miles, so no way could I continue. The
speedo read 66 miles, oh well, these things happen. I would have to limp
back to Malton and get a nice comfy train back home via York or
Scarborough.
At the station it was disappointing to see that the next train wasn't
until 1600, two hours to wait. However, there was a taxi sat outside, so I
asked its driver how much it would be to take me and my bike to Beverley,
from where I could limp home. Much sucking of teeth and sharp
intakes of breath later he decided it would be 45 quid. Erm, yeah thanks
anyway and I headed off. Just a minute, a town this big would have a bike
shop surely, but where? I found a newsagents and asked the girl behind the
counter and was told "Yates"
was down the road.
This large place had a White Goods Dept, Do It Yourself Dept,
Animal Health Dept. (Medicines and feeds) Clothing Dept. Footwear Dept.
Cycles Dept Lawnmowers Dept. Garden Centre and Hairdressing Dept. Up
some steep stairs was a floor dedicated to bike stuff. A young lad and his
dad had a look at my pedal but had nothing suitable on their shelves, but
had a rummage out the back of the store and unearthed some pedals very
similar to the smashed ones. They fitted them and would take no more than
a fiver, so I got 3 energy bars for 3 quid and gave them a tenner and said
goodbye.
One broken pedal.
This multifaceted emporium saved my bacon.
I groaned as I reached the hills again. I could barely ride at 3 mph in the lowest gear and quickly a dull pain enveloped my abdomen, I was going anaerobic big style and this was lactic acid build up. In agony I fell off the bike near the top of the hill and crashed out. I was in trouble now, the lactic build up was coming on even in the short level bits and increased again with every climb.
Down and out after going above my maximum heart rate.
This is the same telephone box that I used in 1974 to ring my father after
getting two punctures.
80 miles gone, only 20 more to go.
At last I had done this trip that had defeated us all those years ago, although as I was out of beer, I had to get into the car and in somewhat of a daze trudge around the local supermarket.
101 miles in 6 hrs 15 minutes. Average 16.2mph.
In Mar 05 I got some clipless Shimano pedals, so I sent the old pedals back to Yates in Malton to be used by someone else.