Étape du Dales, 17 May.

Chris Beetham's report on the 111 mile Étape du Dales.

"To the Edge of Darkness.   (Musings on the 2009 Etape Du Dales from somebody who should really know better !)

Well here I was facing my 3rd ride in the above event in the last four years, fresh (well still knackered) from 400 plus miles in Majorca a week ago, not sure why other than vaguely enjoying last years ride and Dave Smith egging me on to enter this one. Pre ride I set myself two goals -  firstly to try and beat 10 hours and secondly haul my 16 st up all the climbs without getting off and walking, simple really. To ride my reliable carbon TCR with what turned out to be a magic bottom gear of 34/30 due to the dubious weather forecast.

After a 5am rise and a surprisingly good night’s sleep (mainly due to sex, drugs and alcohol) I was picked up by Dave and we were ready to roll from the HQ (resplendent in Seacroft’s finest attire) dipping our wicks into the timer just after 06:30 hours.

Down the back lane to Kettlewell Smithy was off leaving me behind in the first couple of miles. I smugly think to myself seen them do that before, long way to go etc, tortoise and hare and all that.

As I actually catch up and pass a couple of riders just prior to Fleet Moss (the first bit of pain for the ride) I ask them if they had seen a guy in red Campag kit pass them ?.The response was "yes...he looked like a right racing snake" so as I chuckle away the grind up Fleet Moss begins. I looked up into the distance and did indeed espy the very aforementioned snake in his red bib tights snaking his way up the steep bit prior to the right turn by the grit bin and that was it he was never to be seen again by me as he sped off into the distance.

So with Fleet Moss done it was down the treacherous ski jump slope descent into Hawes which after last years near death experience was taken in a relatively sedate manner. At the first check I was 10 mins up on last year and it was off to Buttertubs which was scaled slowly but with no great pain and then off down the other side with a strong side wind from the right. I then experience my second near death experience when I suddenly got a speed wobble just as I passed the parked up ambulance, felt like I was heading for the tarmac as I braked and tried to steer towards the grass verge to try and soften the landing but then control was regained and the descent continued if a little more circumspectly to the valley bottom and towards the first unconquered mystery climb of Low Row.

Well there it was like a wall heading up over the moor for the damned to cleanse their souls and cleanse it I did as I ground my way up and up and rode the damn thing for the first ever time, so feeling suitable pleased with one down and one to go I drove on towards the long climb up to Tan Hill getting it into the big ring on the flatter bits but gradually starting to struggle and on the final steep climb up to the pub where I was glad of a stop and some refreshment. Second check point showed I was 20 mins up on last year so not bad going 50 miles done.

Somewhat cold up there but soon descending down towards Keld into a fierce headwind and then started the climb over the moor towards Cumbria and Nateby. The wheels are now starting to begin to come off and my road to Calgary is beginning as I feel a bit stuffed and start to struggle. Eventually crest the summit and commence the superb sweeping descent down to Nateby which is duly completed with no alarms and now as we turn back to the finish into the bitter headwind on the rolling road to The Moorcock Inn where more food and possibly salvation await. This section of the ride is grim as I struggled to do 10 mph at times and feel horrible, almost reduced to tears as I struggle on into the wind praying that Dave’s mate is at the next check with his car so I can abandon. Get to the Moorcock, no Dave’s mate and no end to my torment. Get a grip of myself and realise it’s a ride to the finish, no other option, get on with it 71 miles done.

So after dipping my wick again in the timer I was actually after all the above still 15 mins up on last year and it was off to the final challenge, Garsdale Head and more to the point the first section after the station which I had never ever managed to ride before. As the newly resurfaced road soared skywards I could see several riders dismounting and walking so as I gradually winched myself upwards and much to my surprise I kept on riding (granted only at 3 mph) eventually passing the walkers and reaching the little flat section euphoric and amazed having ridden it with not much respiratory distress. I then looked up and saw the rest of the climb stretching away into the distance and realised I had still a lot to do but ground on and as I started the plunge down to Dent I was feeling quite pleased as I’d slayed the two climbs I’d always failed on.

Well they say pride comes before a fall and so on the descent I notice the front wheel is feeling a bit squirrelly and sure enough a sodding puncture so I haul on the brakes and come to a stop just prior to the station. Off with the tyre, new tube in tyre back on and pump it up. Simple except the pump won’t inflate the tube so I end up replacing the tube getting more frustrated by the second as innumerable cyclists thunder past. Thankfully the pump inflates the replacement tube and I’m off and running again after in effect having a double puncture.

So descent completed and I grovel along the valley feeling deflated and all my momentum gone to what turns out to be the hardest climb of the day back up under the railway viaduct. I struggle up the climb grimly turning the pedals determined not to put a foot down on this somewhat illegitimate climb as the wind starts getting back into my face. What an horrendous climb that made quite a few riders get off and walk. Anyway the fast section down to the Ribblesdale turning is indeed fast, manage to push out 30 mph for a fair while before the turn. What a wrong turn that was as it’s another painful grovel along the valley into the nagging headwind with some squally showers adding to the fun.

Final check point eventually reached, only 20 miles to go but now I’m stuffed and have lost all my time gains on last year being 15 mins down. So it’s up and over Stainforth and struggle towards Halton Gill on the now wet roads, freewheeling is now becoming hard as my body has had enough and cramp is setting in. Over the last cattle grid turn right into the valley bottom, pass the 100 mile mark thump the bars with relief as you’ve done it !. Well nearly, just 10 miles to go into that bloody headwind, grinding on just managing to push out 15 mph on the edge of darkness as the road just goes interminably onwards until the 5 mile to go board is reached. The final little climb before the finish seems like a mountain before that’s it! 1 mile to go and the last dregs of energy go as I try to storm in looking like an 8 hour rider not the slow, fat old git I actually am.

Down the final straight dodging the cars and riders coming the other way into the finishing area avoiding crashing into the barriers (unlike some) to be greeted by polite applause and the wonderful sight of the final timer and salvation... it’s over. I then look to my left and see Dave "the snake" Smith changed with pint in hand stood there looking suitably pleased with himself. After congratulating each other and a firm handshake (now fellow members of the brotherhood of pain) he utters those magic words "can I get you a pint. " So as Dave heads to the bar I suddenly remember best go find the wife as I don’t fancy riding home and there she is looking as radiant as ever suitably amused by it all.

So there you have it a torrid tale of one over the hill old man’s tale of trying to keep up with the Smith’s and get over the hills !. I had two goals at the start to ride all the climbs and beat 10 hours. Well managed the first and failed on the second, a time of 10:31 no where near the mark but without the puncture I may have beaten my previous best of 10:18.

Congratulations to Dave on his great effort for a first time ride (9:32) and I’m sure if he perseveres he’ll take chunks off that time.

As for me now having got the t shirt (literally) 3 strikes and your out, never again.

Faced with the choice of giving up beer and losing two stone to try and do a decent time or riding next years Paris - Roubaix sportive (perfect for the big rouleur) I’ll know where I’ll be.

Bon voyage !. Adieu."