It’s over! I’ve done it! It is now the Wednesday after the WC2C, I’m back in work in body if not mind and the significance of the weekends events is still sinking in. I’ve been absolutely dumfounded by the number of people who have contacted me with congratulations and who were following the Spot trackers Rik and I were carrying into the small hours of Sunday morning. It’s amazing and I am so very grateful for all the support we have received. I was always reluctant about ‘blogging’ as I was unsure who would find my babblings interesting, I obviously needn’t have worried!

Lots of people have asked my “Why?” The best answer I can give them is a phrase a good mate of mine uses from time to time ‘If you don’t understand, I can’t explain’.

With all challenges like this, you plan, plan, plan some more and then finish by planning. Through all the planning you are planning for success, proper preparation prevents p155 poor performance and all! Unfortunately, this can mean that when something goes wrong, it’s gutting, It wasn’t supposed to be like that. The flip side of the coin is that when things go well, sometimes, rather than feeling euphoric it can be a case of ‘job done’ as in your own mind nothing out the ordinary has occurred, it all just went to plan. That’s kind of where I am at the moment, I’m chuffed that my prep worked and the scale of the achievement is just sinking in.

For those that don’t know, teamate Rik and I had made plans to attempt the Welsh and English Coast to Coast routes that were pioneered last year as part of Rob Lee’s 7DeadlySpins project. The deadly spins are all ultra endurance MTB routes that Rob hopes will become established long distance routes. People could choose to follow them as a multi day riding trip, a family holiday, or as we planned – self sufficient and against the clock. To make things a little more interesting, Rik and I decided we would attempt both our rides on the same day, at the same time.

Local friend Dave Buchanan pioneered the WC2C and completed the ride in March ‘09 in a time of 22:24:49. The EC2C route follows the Tim Woodcock route, with the fastest time belonging to Dave’s former team mate Rich Rothwell with a time of 28hrs 31min.

During the drive to Caernarfon on Friday afternoon I was hoping that this would be the only journey I would be making in the van all weekend. I would be riding solo, carrying all my food and getting the water I needed on the route. I needed a safety net though, if things went really wrong, so my girlfriend Jan and her mum were loosely following my progress back to Cardiff in the van. Both Rik and I would be using Spot Trackers so our rides could be monitored. I also knew that my Dad would not be far away from his PC watching the marker move across the map throughout the day. For most of the drive the rain had been lashing down, whilst I was prepared to ride whatever the conditions were I was dreading 24 hours of rain! It’s different in a race when you can try and turn it into a mental advantage, a 200+ mile ride in the rain solo would be plain miserable! Everyone was telling me that the forecast for Saturday was looking good, but when all I could see was grey skies it was hard to believe that they could be right!

Thankfully they were! The morning was crisp with a covering of mist but importantly it was dry. Jo, Dave’s better half had woken up at 5am to send me a text message summarising the weather from 3 different websites. Fantastic! A bit of a last minute re-pack leaving some spare clothing behind to save weight and I was set to go. Well, nearly. As I put my Garmin GPS onto the stem mount, the mount snapped, as if it had gone brittle in the cold. Anyhow, panic avoided as I had a spare bracket in the van. Still, as I rolled out of Carenarfon at 06:10 I was nervous, what other problems would I encounter and would I be able to resolve them as easily.

The initial leg of the route was fairly straight forward, following National Cycle Route 8 from Carenarfon with the first proper off road kicking in around Trawsfynydd. The low early morning mist and the decommissioned nuclear plant at Trawsfynydd made for a surreal view, I remember making myself laugh thinking it only needed a floating inflatable pig in the sky to look like a ‘Floyd album cover… Well, it made me laugh at the time, but it’s not so funny now! The route then crossed the A470 and skirted around the Log cabin village we have stayed many times in the past on trips to Coed-Y-Brenin. You can ride from the cabins to the CYB trails by picking up the remains of the Sarn Helen Roman road and that’s where the WC2C route goes. In places this is a pretty gnarly bit of trail, the Roman’s must have been hardcore! I made a point of enjoying the last descent into the visitors centre, without going mental. I remembered on a previous trip, the ride from the ski cabins had resulted in 3 crashes, a collision and a slashed tyre. I didn’t want any of those issues so early on into my ride.

Coed-Y-Brenin was my first planned stop for water and it looked like I’d got there before Jan and her mum. I was up on time already and feeling strong. I raced through the water stop and jumped on the bike to get going again. I hadn’t practiced water stops but I had thought about the best routine. A couple of riders were asking if I was starting or finishing. I replied with something along the lines of ‘I’ve ridden 70k but I’ve got to get to Cardiff before I’ve finished’. Passing 4 or 5 riders on the ‘Dragons Back’ singletrack was another good boost to my morale, the bag felt heavy and the bike was laden but I was still making better progress than some people that had only just started their ride. I ripped down ‘Dream Time’ and only just remembered to peel off the waymarked trail at ‘Big Doug’, I was having so much fun!

From CYB the route heads towards Corris, climbing up what is so often the first climb on the Dyfi enduro before turning onto the final descent on the Climachx trial. For the Dyfi there is usually a band or cheerleaders encouraging the riders up the first climb. I had Ford Capri rally cars hooning past me. I’d found out the Thursday before my ride there would be a rally on in the forest. Too late to change my plans I just went for it. Thankfully it was only a linking stage but still, it focused the mind and helped my progress up the climb somewhat.

The descent on the Climachx is reportedly the longest man made descent in Wales. Again, I hit it looking to enjoy the trail, but in the back of my mind I was thinking there was more to be lost than gained on this section. Corris is famous for its slate – razor sharp, tubeless tyre slicing slate. At this point I’d got 100k in my legs and whilst I wasn’t tired, you get to that place in your head where you’re not as sharp technically as you would have been on a shorter ride. Be interesting to see the carnage if there were ever a 100k enduro that finished on the Climachx!

From the end of the Climachx I rode past the Shit and Wind Center and through Machynlleth where Jan jumped out to take a photo of me.

A siren startled me on the lanes leading south from Mach, for a split second I couldn’t place it. It wasn’t my 15 min timer to remind me to eat, it wasn’t my GPS or a phone. It soon became apparent it was the fire engine hooning towards me at speed. With not much room on a singletrack road I jumped off the bike and into the hedge to let it past. A few minutes later I had to repeat the same manoeuvre as another appliance sped past. A bit later down the lane a group of Dutch bikers were picking up fairing and a bloke slowly rode a battered Fazer past me. The fire trucks totally blocked the road and I was unsure what to do. I asked the group if everyone was OK to which they thankfully replied ‘Yes’ so I climbed my way past the blocked road, through the hedge and back on my way with a bit of a tingling feeling I guess any biker gets having passed an accident scene.

I had mixed feelings about this next leg. When I recce’d this part of the route in March the conditions had been foul, the rain had turned to snow and I had been in trouble. I’d lost feeling in my hands and feet and my brain had turned to mush. Not good in the most remote part of the ride. I’d made nav errors and ended up trudging across uninhabited moorland in search of the trail. Today, the forestry roads were a nightmare as the rain from Friday had turned their surface into a concrete like mud that just dragged. Still, compared to the recce in March I was glad that the conditions overhead were mint, the memories etched in my mind about the sheering barn near Bryn Moel disappeared as I span the granny ring up the climb and onto the crazy fun sheep trails from the top of the hill.

From here the route passes Nant-Y-Moch reservoir and joins into the trail network at Nant-Y-Arian. I was looking forward to Nant. The last descent at Nant is one of my favourite in the world and today was going to be no exception. This was also the last trial centre I would be riding today. I passed a rider on the last climb shared by the Summit trail and the Syfydrin who asked me if I was on the long route today, again I smiled and told him about the ride. Well, he asked!

I roosted the last descent, flicking my Anthem through the trees and hurtling towards the next water stop. You know you’re on the racing line when your daysack is clipping the trees as you weave your body through the trail. Nant had been the first place I’d ridden when I was finally allowed back on the bike, just over a year ago following a long lay off through injury. It was during this forced time off the bike that I decided I would do the C2C. I remembered my first ride back, ripping the trial with my old flatmate Dave and I had to fight back a bit of a moment. Funny where your head goes on these rides!

Refuelled at Nant I set off towards Ffair Rhos. This leg was the most fresh in my memory as it had been the last section I recce’d. Back then it had taken me 5 hours to reach Llanwrtyd Wells and with over 2000m of climbing on this leg alone I knew this would be where I would start to feel fatigued. I was still going well, after a spell of struggling to eat early on I was sticking to my feeding strategy and was about an hour up on my estimated timings.

One piece of kit which really came into its own on this ride was my Scottoiler. The combination of the warm weather and the waterlogged ground in places was drying my chain out real quick. Ordinarily I guess I’d just carry on until it sounded so tortured I’d give in, stop and lube it up. With the Scottoiler I could keep the chain lubricated without stopping. On the sheep tracks towards Ffair Rhos I remember squeezing the squid to lube the chain and noticing how much easier it suddenly became to turn over the same gear! Nuf said, I’m sold.

My knees had started to hurt now, I don’t really know why as I have never suffered with knee pain in the past but the sharp pains, mainly in my right knee were beginning to concern me. Somewhere south of Ponterwyd I felt the back end of the bike squirming, I’d got a flat. I tried to get the tyre to seal by inflating it with a CO2 can and relying upon the Stans to seal the leak, but no more than an hour later it was going soft again. I resisted the temptation to keep on riding it and stopped to put a tube in as quickly as you can do when you have been riding for over 10 hours. As I was fixing the flat I realised how hot it had become, how little I was sweating and that my head was a little fuzzy. I had become dehydrated. I hadn’t realised how the temperature had picked due to the cool breeze that had been ever present. I was scared as I knew dehydration could have ruined everything so I forced myself to drink my SR3 as often as I could as I set off again.

Thankfully, as I hit Llyn Brianne I seemed to have gotten enough fluids onboard and my head was clear again. Unfortunately the pain in my knee was still present, I was pushing on but it was hurting. From Llyn Brianne the route takes in a 200m climb before dropping down into Llanwrtyd Wells along a 40+mph section of fireroad, down a cool techy descent and over a shonkey makeshift bridge. On the climb I decided enough was enough and stopped to take some Ibruprofen. When I couldn’t find them in the side pocket of my OMM Sack, I was confused. With the contents of my bag emptied onto the fireroad the only conclusion I could come to was they had fallen out en-route somewhere. I repacked and carried, on spinning up the fireroad climb. With over 200km behind me today, the bridge crossing was not something I was looking forward to but I needn’t have worried as it passed without incident.

I filled my hydration bladder for the penultimate time in Llanwrtyd Wells where I saw Jan, mum Ruth and Jo who had driven up to follow my progress. At this point, I arguably could have made a grave misjudgement. Without thinking, as I filled my bladder, I asked Jan for some Ibruprofen. After 14hours riding I didn’t even question what I was asking, I had lost mine and my primary concern was limiting the damage I was doing to my right knee. Some people will view this as the point, my ride became ‘Supported’. It raises an interesting point, would it have been different if I had stopped a tourist at Llyn Brianne? or gone into the shop in Llanwrtyd? I can’t answer that question but through respect to Dave, future WC2C soloists and the spirit of the challenge I feel it’s important we are all open and honest about our rides. Maybe a published, definitive list of rules would remove any future ambiguity.

My bag was noticeably lighter than it had been leaving Caernarfon which was nice as again the route climbed. There were signs alongside the trail near Bryn-Hynog saying ‘Well Done’ and ‘Nearly there’ It made me smile but I don’t think they were intended for me!

From here I made my way onto the Epynt and through Sennybridge training area. The sun was low in the sky now but I was still up on time by about an hour. I was constantly making calculations as I rode away, where would I be at sunset, what time would I hit Brecon, when would I be finished. I turned my Lupine on as I hit the last bridleway into Brecon. My timing had been spot on and I had cleared what I thought was one of the most difficult sections of nav with daylight to help me. That would certainly have saved me time.

I’ve been working with coach George Rose since October and the results of a more structured training approach are starting to show. I’d been following George’s training plans and periodically getting tested in the sports labs to monitor my progress. We were both happy with the numbers that we were seeing in the tests, but you can never be sure how that will translate to performance on the day. Prior to the WC2C, I’d done a lactate threshold test to work out my pacing for the ride. This was invaluable on the day as I was able to spend the first 8hours hardly drifting out of my target zone, sitting back on the climbs and keeping a constant effort on the flatter sections. Towards the end of the ride as my knees packed up, fatigue kicked in, the temperature dropped and my head was wandering I’d decided George was evil and an arse! You try hitting threshold after 20hrs in the saddle! Only kidding, he’s a top bloke – although it’s good to have something to focus on when your heads in the shed!

I made my final waterstop at Pencelli campsite at about 10:30pm, somehow I had gained another half hour over the last leg and I had about 6hours by my maths to make it to Cardiff. My knees were screaming at me now but the rest of my body felt fine, I had a few back pains early on but they had not developed into anything worse and my legs still felt strong. Strangely, this was probably my lowest point of the ride as my mind was telling me I’d done it and I should stop now. I put my buff on and a windproof top to keep the chill out, filled my bladder for the last time, popped a couple more Ibruprofen and set into the dark on the last leg.

The feeling of content didn’t last long, it soon turned into paranoia. ‘What if I get a flat’, ‘What if I rip my mech off’, ‘What if I bonk’… I made good progress up ‘5 mile climb’ and kept pushing as hard as I could, big ringing as much of the flat as my knees would allow. After the Beacons the route is not so scenic, taking in some of the less appealing parts of South Wales. One thing I hadn’t factored in with having made good progress is that people would still be out and about. Merthyr was busy with drunks, chavs and boy racers everywhere. I just put Betty on full beam and raced past them hoping to avoid any incidents. Just beyond Merthyr two youths started running down the banking towards me ‘Nice bike mister’ one of them shouted. I didn’t hang round to see if they were off elsewhere. I might have got nearly 20hrs in my legs at this point but I’d still got a sprint left if I needed it!

By Abercynon a short section of the Taff trail was closed so I had to follow the official diversion, which sent me down a dead-end. I’d had enough by now and I wanted to finish. I retraced my steps and soon realised where I could rejoin Route 8.

One last evil twist I knew was waiting for me, at Nantgarw the route split and took the High Taff trail, it’s only a 70m ascent but at 320km into the ride I was expecting to be crawling up it. Strangely, I seemed to fly up the last hill, middle ring all the way, probably fuelled by adrenalin knowing it was so nearly all over. I enjoyed the last descent down to Castle Coch and then stuck it in the big ring and started to thump my legs over.

As I neared the City centre and passed the Millennium stadium I was pounding away at the cranks. I knew I was going to beat the record. I know it will get beaten again in the future, but for now I was going to shave off every second I could. I sprinted down into the Bay, took a line onto Roald Dahl Plass that looking back was pretty dicey, and put a few last big cranks in to finish in the Celtic ring. 20:10:17 Job done.

I was met by Jan, her Mum Ruth and Grandma, as well as Jo who had gotten out of bed to come and see me finish. Chuffed but exhausted I had a quick chat with my Dad who had been following online, and then set about trying to eat some proper food. Sadly within minutes of talking to Dad, he was calling back to say that he’d checked Rik’s progress one last time and received a ‘help’ message from him. We relayed the grid to Padge who was already on his way. With nothing we could do but wonder we set off for home.

And that’s the end of the story so to speak. I got about 3 hours sleep before waking up with the worst hangover like feeling I can remember in years. Body craving something but whatever I ate just didn’t work. At 7am I was on tomato soup and checking to see if Rik got going again. Unfortunately it turns out as I finished in Cardiff bay, he finished in a survival blanket lying in a ditch. Thankfully nothing too serious, his stomach had packed in and then nausea hit him hard. He undoubtedly made the right call to stop as he had over 10hrs riding left which would have been impossible without being able to take onboard food. I’ve still got a numb feeling in the fingers on my left hand and my knees are very sore still. But it was worth it and I’ve done it now.

So, thanks to everyone who has played a part in Rik and my C2C adventures. Thanks for the support, the advice and the congratulations. It’s been a great challenge. The Welsh route is fantastic, taking in a great mix of trails whilst remaining nearly 100% rideable. There is only one short section near Corris that I had to hike and I’m sure that on a good day I could ride it. I was blessed with better weather and much better trail conditions than when Dave first completed the route in March 09. I was also fortunate to be armed with all the good advice he gave me on how I could better his time. Thanks mate! top stuff Final thanks have to go to two pretty special ladies, our better half’s Jan and Sarah. I’m sure there’s been times if we’d said ‘Coast to Coast’ one more time we’d have been out on the street. Thanks for putting up with us, I promise that’s the last you will hear about it. Now, Mountain Mayhem….