15 minute read
Gently does it
by Audax UK
It may be just a stone’s throw from London, but the mellow country byways that form the route of the 208km Gently Bentley ride seem a million miles away from Britain’s sprawling capital city. Phil Barella of Kingstone Wheelers, experiences an event which has been described as “an early season pootle on Surrey and Hampshire lanes”.
The War Memorial at Bradfield
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26 THE GENTLY BENTLEY is an essentially flat ride. The only hills are out of Henleyon-Thames, and near the Golden Pot – and even they are just drags, though there are one or two bergs which require the little ring. Basically, there isn’t much on this ride that’s troubling, though the fatigue certainly accumulates.
So it is, on Sunday 17 March this year I’m up at 6am and kitting myself out for this gently rolling Audax. The forecast suggests slightly gusty conditions with occasional rain and maybe some hail. Average temperatures will be as low as 5C, so I add some layers.
I set off for the tennis club and sign in. Number 9 – nice. After a coffee and a chat about the previous day’s Six Nations rugby, we’re off, and everyone’s in good spirits. The conditions dictated that I get across to a decent group and share the work where I can, and get round steadily. The ride isn’t a race or a time trial, it’s more about pacing and keeping everything relatively steady and riding within yourself as well as eating and drinking sensibly.
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We made steady progress through Kingston, when a few small pelotons formed. Riders were riding in small and not so small groups! I got into a group which was quite large, but all were riding at a sensible speed, so I thought I’d get involved.
The first of three points of interest were recorded near Ascot, and then we had to get across to Henley, via Waltham – a fast route, though the headwind slowed our group up a fair bit. Once we arrived at Henley we all made our way to places for a bit of food, but because of the delays at the café, I decided to eat a Soreen bar, wash it down with some water, and then joined a group that was pretty solid in terms of pace, heading for the next section, the rolling hills from Henley to Pangbourne.
The initial rise was Gravel Hill, a steady climb that gets you up to near Peppard Common, and then the road goes up and down towards Goring, Whitchurch and Pangbourne. It’s scenic and unspoilt, and this part of the course flows well.
The group was ebbing and flowing and we were catching and passing a few riders, and when the group partially splintered and others had stopped to wait for one of their colleagues, I went on ahead knowing that one of the climbs was a bit steep and they’d catch me. I worked with a few others that were going at a similar pace, including one rider who kept getting the turns wrong! We then came upon the second point of interest, the War Memorial at Bradfield.
This was a welcome break for a few minutes and the bigger group reconvened. We then headed towards Lasham garden centre via the Golden Pot The group splintered a little to the point there were five of us, but we kept each other in good spirits, until we got to Lasham.
At the café area we ate a fair bit - jacket potato and beans for me with a sideserving of tuna mayo sandwiches and two cokes. The roads from Lasham to Bentley are again gently rolling, so we did our usual thing of riding uphill at our own pace and catching up on the descents, which were becoming more plentiful. This part was where there was a bit of rain and hail for a few minutes, before we got to familiar terrain around Dockenfield. We went past some recognisable farmland. I recalled the music festivals I used to enjoy there. It’s called the Hangout and happens every September. They’re a
good bunch, though the field they play in does get a bit pungent with the amount of herbal ciggies being smoked.
We were all going at a decent rate of knots, and we got to the final fuel stop at Brookwood Premier, and again stocked up. There’s a wonderful climb near the B3000/ A31, going towards Normandy. That was fun, and once it was done, and the fast descent down to Normandy, we headed towards Pirbright and the fast roads and tailwind helping us along at a very good speed.
We then headed back to our regular roads around Ripley, Esher, and home to Surbiton, along a traditional route that gets you back into Kingston pretty well. It seems some folk went down to the bottom of Plough Lane, which was flooded just before Cobham, whereas if one did the proper route along Downside you’d miss that. The last few rises by Esher went by very quickly, and then we got into Surbiton just as it was getting dark. I think we got the ride done and dusted in a decent time, and we all had fun – which is the main thing. In terms of a route, it had everything you wanted, especially for those just starting, as it’s not too challenging, and the food at the end (vegetarian pasta), was very welcome. It’s an ideal starter 200 because the course isn’t too demanding and is relatively stress free – and you always find a group to work with, or you could happily do it by yourself and take in all the views. Speaking to others during the ride, the overwhelming view was that it was a great day, and the route kept everyone on their toes. I’ll be back next year, and speaking to others on the ride, they will as well.
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Riding & sliding in a wild winter wonderland Britain’s last area of wilderness is an unforgiving place at the best of times – but in a bitterly cold and snowy February, the lonely and exposed roads of Sutherland present a special challenge. Niall Wallace reports on a 207km lungbusting ride around bleak Ben Klibreck earlier this year…
28 BEN KLIBRECK IS A MASSIVE, sprawling and isolated mountain which dominates the vast empty moorlands in the heart of Sutherland at Scotland’s northern tip. Walkers describe it as a “giant whale of a Munro”. It’s probably the wildest, loneliest place in the British Isles. My cycling companion Robbie Fargo and I have both been tempted by this Permanent for a while. I’ve been to the area a couple of times and any excuse to get back up there is good for me. Robbie hadn’t strayed so far north into the barren wastes of Sutherland before. After successfully riding the Kingdom Come 400 Perm in a mild early December we decided to try for early February as part of an SR of Perms idea we had.
Andy Uttley organised the ride. The distance was 207km with controls at Tain, Helmsdale, the Garvault Hotel, and Crask Inn. The organiser’s recommendation was to ride the route anti-clockwise.
Weather reports showed there had been some wind and a bit of snow in the previous days and that the lowest temperature could be around -8C, which would almost certainly mean preparing to encounter ice.
We considered our options – defer the Perm and find a clean route around Inverness for a DIY, or go for it, accepting that we might have to turn back or make use of the Far North Line, the Highlands’ own railway, which we would be following as far as Kinbrace and then pick up again at Lairg, the long section between the two being the area of most concern.
Thankfully we had studded winter tyres, though I had never ridden studs on the road before. I’d ridden MTB races on spikes so had some experience of their performance, and Robbie has ridden cyclo-cross, so adverse condition riding was no stranger to him either.
Our journey started with a snowy drive up the A90 after work to collect Robbie from Aberdeen and then along the A96 to the youth hostel in Inverness where we were booked for the night. We’d yet to fit the studded tyres so we spent an hour outside the hostel’s front door fitting the tyres and running
through our stock of spare tubes in the process, due to some faulty tubes and a valve rip.
We didn’t arrive in Tain, our first control, until mid-morning and discovered that both of Robbie’s tyres had deflated overnight. Thankfully his two spares held air and mine were ok but with only two spare tubes between us we were starting to feel under-prepared despite being kitted-out for riding in winter and carrying extra thermal layers in case of a prolonged stop.
I knew of a bike shop in Ardgay which was on the route, and wasn’t too far from Tain. We obtained receipts at Tesco just after 10am, hopeful of maintaining a good speed on the flat sections and gentle climbs. But by the time we reached the roundabout at the end of the Dornoch Bridge our expectations of early speed had been shattered by the extra effort required to get the heavy tyres up to speed and maintain it. Although slower than we hoped, our speed along the south side of the Dornoch Firth was still reasonable, if noisy, with the carbide
Robbie Fargo
Niall Wallace
spikes clattering against the clear tarmac so we were not ready to throw in the towel yet.
As we clattered into Ardgay I spotted the building where the bike shop used to be. It appeared now to be some sort of tartan shop. Luckily, a local spotted us looking forlorn and told us that “Heaven Bikes” had moved to the Post Office in Bonar Bridge, just across the Kyles of
Sutherland. We thanked her and carried on, crossing the boundary between Gaelic and Norse Scotland as our entry to Sutherland (The Jarl of Orkney’s “South Land”) was announced by road signs. We topped up our supply of spare tubes from Chris in the bike shop but noticed that our average was down to 17kmh.
The road from here is a long drag up to Lairg, a town dominated by a hydro
scheme. We passed the last railway station before Kinbrace and dived into the desolation of central Sutherland. The road climbed steadily until we reached the junction with the road to Scourie where it became a single track. The ploughed snow was piled high at the roadside, and fold-down signs advised us “Road Ahead Closed - Snow Drifts” but the road closure signs had been folded away at the side showing that the road was open.
Strath Tirry is a shallower climb and, as the landscape got whiter, the spikes occasionally went quiet, or the back wheel gave a squirm in a patch of snow, but in the most part it was possible to maintain progress as the ploughed road weaved through the snow-covered bog and bridged frozen rivers. I wanted to stop for a photo that I couldn’t capture on the go but chose to miss it in favour of maintaining momentum.
Eventually I spotted the small patch of trees in which the Crask Inn is situated. There was no sign up, and the cars outside were submerged in snow, but a ❝ Thankfully we had studded winter tyres, though I had never ridden studs on the road before
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tentative knock on the door revealed that the bar was tended, the fire was roaring, the vegetable soup on offer was both hot and delicious, and the cakes excellent. As we prepared to tear ourselves away from the warmth of the bar, the proprietor advised us that conditions at Altnaharra might be “different” due to it being in a dip. She said her husband had been snowed in only the previous day while she had been snowed out.
From the Inn it was only a short climb to the start of the descent to Altnaharra and when we crested the summit, we realized conditions were indeed going to different, rough snow and ice slowed our descent to the village and now we were only averaging 15kmh. When we got to Altnaharra the road turned to sheet ice on the approach to the bridge. I held my breath but the spikes gripped and I crested the bridge without worry. Just out of the village we found the turn for Syre – this was our next point of concern as we were leaving the primary gritting routes.
No-one home… Garvault Hotel control
If this road proved to be impassable then it was game over – the Garvault control would be out of reach, and our only options would be to ride to the north coast at Tongue or turn back.
The junction was snowy and icy, and the rest of the road was dusted with snow. We chose to press on into the vast
emptiness and see how it went after lowering our tyre pressures to get some more grip. In the shade the road was snowy, on the edges it was icy but, in areas exposed to sun and despite the chill in the air a clear path had been cleared through sun melt, so now we could ride faster. We maintained a 16kmh average along the way to Syre
despite having to deal with “bomb holes” and drop offs on the road.
At the Garvault junction again, things looked sketchy. The driver of a pick-up truck with winter tyres told us that the road wasn’t great, but it was passable. The initial climb was covered in a shallow coating of snow just deep enough to overcome the limited tread of our tyres, the spikes having no value where there is no ice to grip. We resorted to walking when needed.
At times the road camber sucked us down on to the verges, small ridges of frozen snow kicked our wheels to the side and occasionally cleared tracks sent us wiggling across the road to keep the clean line, but progress was slow. Eventually the Garvault Hotel control loomed into view, its white walls camouflaging it against the white hillside of Ben Griam Mór. We already knew no-one was in. Photographic evidence had been requested by Andy of the sign by the road as a substitute. We posed just long enough to get the pictures. The temperature was -8C.
We entered an area of estate houses where workers had cleared a route between the various buildings but had only left tyre tracks after the last barn. In the distance the lights of Kinbrace station lit the night sky, but it was now too late to catch a train south, should we wish to pack the ride now.
The descent down Strath Ullie towards Helmsdale was a mix of fast, clean road and an icy mess. I caught the central ridge of snow with my back tyre and got a bit of a fright, just maintaining control. It was a relief when we rolled into town, although at the shop where we warmed up and ate, it was still -8C outside. But when we rode out to the A9 on the coast the temperature rose significantly to -3C, though by now our bottles contained isotonic slush puppies rather than easily consumable energy drinks.
We had over nine and a half hours on the clock and hadn’t yet reached the 100 mile mark, but from Helmsdale the route rises and falls, first along the coast passing through Brora and Golspie on the A9 which although much quieter here than south of Tore still receives 24hr treatment so we knew the surface would be good for a bit of speed.
The route sheet takes you out to Dornoch village on local roads, but the A9 cuts over a hill. The route via the town
is a nice idea on a good day but at this time on a cold winter’s night with the road otherwise deserted we stuck with the A9 climb to Poles where our final descent showed us the lights of Tain getting closer.
At Tain we took a precautionary photo at the Burgh sign in case the ATMs were out of paper, which they were. Robbie spotted one of the hotels had a quiet bar which was clearly still open despite the hour, so we staggered in for a celebratory drink during which we agreed to purchase another card someday and have another ride in warmer conditions.
In winter this was a cracking route – the bleak desolation of central Sutherland enhanced by the snowy wilderness, but we had to be wellprepared in terms of equipment and mentally ready to turn back if conditions proved too much. In the shoulder seasons when the roads are still quiet before the summer influx this would make a great day ride in either direction.
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Now find a bar… glowing at the finish control
