People take up cycling for any number of reasons. My rediscovery was partly health related - I was banned from driving for medical reasons - and partly a desire to challenge myself to achieve something later in my life.
For a number of years I looked upon those doing the London to Brighton bike ride with envious eyes as they squealed down past the end of my road on a yearly migration to the sea. It wasn't the distance that horrified me, it was the prospect of climbing The Beacon: a metaphorical slap in the face to go with real pain in the buttocks associated with many hours in the saddle.
Eventually, I plucked up the courage to take on the no less formidable Devil's Dyke at the end of my first charity ride, from Hampton Court to Hove, weeks before my 40th birthday. Yes, it was ghastly; yes, I hated every pedal push. I did get a disproportionate sense of satisfaction out of it, though.
Wind on a dozen or so years and I'm no less afraid of hills - I'm just more confident in my ability to scale them on a bike. I've moved on from a ratty hybrid to my beautiful (to me) road bike, replete with all the things I feel help me over the humps: lighter wheels, compact chainset, mental toughness. With this I have begun to conquer pretty much anything that I point my bars at, and of late, I've noticed an escalation in this behaviour. The hills I used to do are no longer steep enough, while the hills I used to avoid now seem to turn up on my casual routes. This is probably why, when I heard about a three day cycling tour in the North York Moors, I began to think of ways I could go, rather than reasons not to.
The Yorkshire 199
The Yorkshire 199 is a new and innovative event from fledgling company Simple Cycle Tours. The idea is simple: a signed and supported trek from York to Whitby and back, plus a day's outing in the Howardian Hills as a prologue. Running from Friday to Sunday, the tour was to cover 199 miles of the best (or worst) that the National Park has to offer, with accommodation on two nights at York and Whitby's Youth Hostels, plus a post-prologue welcome BBQ.
The distance of 199 miles was an idea conceived by Simple Cycles in honour of the famous 199 steps leading from the town of Whitby to the ruined abbey overlooking the harbour. Also on offer from the team was the transport of bags and belongings from start to finish and the assistance of a mechanic for the cyclists tackling the route.
So - three days of roughly sixty-five miles a day. Sounds easy, I thought. I signed up, more than tempted by the prospect of getting away for three days and the offer of a complimentary, limited edition jersey from new British manufacturer Svelte to match the shorts I'd recently purchased as part of their Kickstarter drive.
Day One: Prologue
What lay ahead on day one filled me with more trepidation than the ride itself - the small matter of travelling from home in West Sussex to York in time to start the first leg at midday, and get back before it was dark. I've seen American Werewolf In London and know what can happen to travellers on the moors...
I needn't have worried - 6-hour drive notwithstanding - as many of my co-tourists were arriving and departing at the same time. Some had come by train, others by car, and some even by coach, taking advantage of Simple Cycles' offer of a rental bike for the rides. After a quick change and briefing from John and Sal I was off on my own, following the blue arrows out of York.
It may've been because I'm used to the pure saturation of Wiggle arrows, nannying me through many of my rides on UKCE sportives, or a touch of local vandalism, but I soon lost my way, barely a few miles outside the city. Luckily Simple Cycles had provided me with a map and emergency contacts. After a brief detour and a bit of back-tracking, I was back on course and heading steadily northwards towards the half-way point at Helmsley via an alarm call ascent up Bulmer Bank, which had a sign forecasting the woe to come.
Unfortunately, by the time I'd worked out what "1 in 6" was, I was climbing the near 17% ramp and was sufficiently pre-occupied with the mathematical conversion to stop and vomit at the top. Up until that point I'd wondered what all the fuss was about - Yorkshire didn't seem that hilly.
In dire need of refreshment and something more substantial than a Clif bar, I decided to stop and look for a cashpoint in Helmsley and had the good fortune to meet up with some fellow tourists who had been sampling the excellent local sandwich shop. Unperturbed by the sight of a cyclist twice their age and (combined) weight, they invited me to join them for the journey back.
Climbing out of Helmsley, one of the group was having trouble with her bike and made a pre-arranged stop with Craig, our mechanical support. Having efficiently got Cat going again, we ploughed on, only to experience more of the same further up the hill. As I was the back marker, it seemed honourable to hang back to help, but in 10 minutes of fettling we couldn't quite work out what the problem was with the dropping chain. We were slightly off the designated route, but Craig found us in no time and proceeded to work his magic on Cat's front mech, leaving half the group to plough on while Emma stayed to witness the spannering and make sure Cat wasn't on her own.
Myself, Rich and Charlie were joined by Matt. Despite missing all sorts of signage we found our way back on route, using a combination of male-bloodymindedness and photocopied maps, only to spot Cat and Emma climbing up the road in the opposite direction. Assuming that women are always right, we did a 180 and caught them up a while later at a T-junction.
Conscious of the time, and the fact that two dozen other hungry cyclists were about to pounce on the food supplies, we teamed up to chain-gang our way back to the start, taking turns at the front into the wind. On reflection, I was very grateful of the help as I was starting to feel the effect of being on the road for over 12 hours.
After retrieving our luggage and stowing our bikes securely in an upstairs conference room, there was just enough time for a shower before John, Sal and the third member of the team, Emma, got the food ready.
I haven't been youth hostelling since I was in my teens, and it was quite a shock to find a well stocked bar, pizzeria and a Ben & Jerry's ice cream machine on site. I wasn't even sure if I qualified to stay there on age, but the other residents seemed to range from young families to stag parties so I'm guessing it's changed a bit since the days when you were required to be a member and had to arrive under your own steam.
Getting the tour to share accommodation was also a genius idea, as it got people mixing and talking about the ride, sharing knowledge and experience. It also meant that I could possibly forge an alliance with riders closer in attitude and ability to me. I was, as I said, appreciative of the death-ride experience of the prologue, but not sure I could maintain that intensity for a further two days.
Day Two: York to Whitby
For Day 2 we set out from York more or less together across much of the route we'd done the previous afternoon. Groups formed on the road, and I teamed up with local lads Chris and Roy, Robin and Karen from London and Stefan from the Forest of Dean. Karen, an accomplished distance runner, was new to cycling and very nervous about descending. Stefan, another newcomer, betrayed his novice status by powering up the hills on one of Simple Cycles' rented Giant Defys.
Roy and Chris knew the area well and their local knowledge was invaluable as we started to hit the Yorkshire Wolds and progress on to the eastern side of the Moors. Robin, a cycle shop manager, had a wealth of advice to offer all of us about how to ride and how to keep an efficient position on the bike. I'm not sure what I offered the group, apart from weapons-grade swearing each time the gradient increased.
A pit stop in Malton offered us the opportunity to take on some protein, although Chris and Roy seemed obsessed with pies - I doubt I'll ever grow tired of hearing a Yorkshireman say "Pies" - while the soft Southerners had an omelette fest.
Climbing up to the Moors proper, I was struck by the gorgeous views and the apparent, deceptive uniformity of (what I thought) were gently rolling hills. Little did I know that the beautiful heather hid menace in the shape of deep cut river valleys, at the bottom of which were numerous fords. We learned to despise the warning signs as they invariably meant a scary, twisting descent across a stream of brown-tinted water leading to an equally scary and tough climb up the other side.
There must be a thriving cottage industry on the North York Moors for triangular sign-writers who only know how to do percentages over 12 - there are so many dips and hills that I've seen more gradients in the teens and above in one day than I would do in a year's cycling in the North or South Downs. They don't even bother labelling anything 10% or less (probably because there is nothing less than that gradient in the whole region).
The worries about signage from the previous day was forgotten as the indicators for day 2 were pink and plentiful - a planned colour change and also a result, we learned, of Emma and Sal going out about an hour ahead of the riders that morning. Previously John had had to put up the blue signs on his own, a far more labour-intensive process.
Sadly for us, the pink arrows kept pointing skywards but we all managed to trundle on and eventually arrived together at the picturesque cliff-top hostel, next to Whitby's ruined abbey.
Whitby is famous for a number of things: the previously mentioned abbey, the local fish and chips, the terminus for the North York Moors Railway, and for featuring in Bram Stoker's Dracula as the place where the Count comes to England. I really wish I had a jersey with Sesame Street's "The Count" on to have been wearing as I rolled in that evening...
After the obligatory shower and raiding the reception of all the Pepsi and crisps, we set off for the town to feast on deep fried and battered things, followed by litres of fermented vegetable recovery drinks, sure in the knowledge that the next day wouldn't, couldn't be as hilly as the journey up. How wrong we were...
Day Three: Return to York
John rather apologetically pushed around a feedback form at breakfast the next day, perhaps expecting (and receiving) suggestions for The Fens as the next location for a tour, and was almost embarrassed to reveal the day's profile on the course map. A peculiarly lop-sided profile awaited our exhausted minds and bodies. I think my failure to acknowledge that the first 30 miles of the 68 mile route appeared to be vertical was due to my tiredness.
Still, my bag was on the way to York and I had to join it and make my way home. Others were conscious of having trains to catch so smaller groups started to form and for quite a while I was on my own. With no music to distract me I began to get songs stuck in my head, the most regrettable of which was The Smiths' "Suffer Little Children" and the constant refrain of "Dig a shallow grave and I'll lay me down". Well, at least I wasn't thinking about being torn apart by a werewolf...
The day, despite being windy, was very hot and the temperature indicated on my Garmin touched 27 degrees more than once. The descents and climbs all blurred into one, each sign indicating a downhill being met with a desperate sigh rather than a welcome cheer - I knew what was coming after. One final, unending crawl up to the top of the Moor at Blakey meant I wasn't far from the famous Lion pub, where I stopped and ate the most beautiful tuna sandwich in the world ever, but not before downing two pints of lime cordial.
While catching up with the news on the free Wi-Fi, Stefan appeared. This was a surprise to both of us because he'd roared off at the start of the day in the fast group of riders focused on the Great Eastern timetable south out of York; with my robotic, near glacial speed climbing, I expected him to be miles ahead. It turned out he and Chris missed an arrow and carried on down a steep descent and got lost for about an hour. Karen, he told me, was giving the downhills the utmost respect and walking down the steepest roads.
With nearly half the route done, we then had the massive reward of the road down off the Moor: eight miles of constant descent only marred by a 25mph crosswind. It was such a relief, however, to actually be moving without having to pedal and to not feel that there was an evil climb around the next corner. We made sufficiently good time for him to be back in plenty of time for his train, even allowing for me to collapse for 20 minutes on the lawn in front of the YHA in York.
Conclusion
A week after the Yorkshire 199 I'm still in awe that I managed to do it: 200 miles of road cycling, 15,600 feet (4,755m) of climbing - my legs ache, my fingers are numb. I had some terrifying moments, but some exhilarating ones too. It hasn't diminished my desire to climb hills or cycle distances. It has been more an affirmation of my ability to do these things, to survive the climbs, the discomfort, the hunger and thirst. It has even given me the confidence to look at tackling other long-distance rides like La Marmotte, Paris-Roubaix, and maybe even the iconic Fred Whitton.
Thank you to Simple Cycles for organising this - to John, Sal and Emma who were approachable, friendly, helpful and supportive; and to Craig who, like the shopkeeper in Mr Benn, had the ability to appear from nowhere just when you needed him with water, food, inner tubes, tyres, cable ties, and just the enthusiasm and encouragement to get the team through their next challenge, and then the next one.
I must confess that I had been given a free place on this event in return for a write up - it happens, folks. But after seeing how much everyone involved has invested in the venture, I couldn't feel comfortable about copping a freebie, so I arranged to pay my way as soon as I got back home. The whole tour is astonishingly good value, providing two nights' accomodation, breakfast and one evening meal, support and dedication from the team for three days, all for the daily price some one-day events charge just to ride.
There are no plans as yet for another edition of the Yorkshire 199, but keep an eye on Simple Cycle Tours for new events: these unique cycling challenges deserve to be successful and popular.
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