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Ten female cyclists lined up to challenge themselves against 42 strength-sapping Peak District climbs this July – the brainchild of Sheffield-based rider Dr Alaina Beacall. The inaugural Pure Peak Grit event traced a punishing, never-before attempted, 610km looped path through the national park and taking on every known hill, the hard way. Alaina takes up the story…

A L A I N A B E A C A L L

❝An 8pm Friday start from Buxton, ensured the majority would be starting in a fatigued state after a full day’s work, and some long journeys

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J A S M I J N M U L L E R

THE VISION was to link together every “tough” hill by road in the Peak District National Park, including many of the hills described in Simon Warren’s book, 100 Greatest Cycling Climbs. The climbs are taken the hardest way up and combined into one beastly, ultra-distance loop. And all to be completed in a 48-hour time limit.

So, the Pure Peak Grit challenge was created – a long distance, self-supported ride involving steep hills and sleep deprivation, to be completed over the weekend of 12-14 July summer 2019. The route is 610km long, and climbs at least 42 categorised ascents, giving a total ascent height of 13,600m.

I had intended to run it under AUK rules as a DIY mandatory route Super Randonee; a type of mountainous 600km Audax that requires at least 10,000m ascent. But it turned out that SRs can’t be DIYs, and the route’s controls were too close together to form a perm event. So we ran as an independent endurance event instead. The inaugural Pure Peak Grit ride had the dual aim of showcasing the endurance prowess of female cyclists, and raising funds to help the Friends of the Peak District charity conserve the national park. There were ten female sign-ups, crazy enough to knowingly thrust their bodies to the limits, and be the first riders of this new route.

An 8pm Friday start from Buxton, ensured the majority would be starting in a fatigued state after a full day’s work, and some long journeys. A local endurance-cycling couple generously opened their home to us to gather together, consume some home-cooked plant-based lasagne, and line up at the starting control point of Buxton train station. Here we took the first of many time and location-stamped photographs for social media and the website: ensuring proof of arrival at controls, and allowing the public to follow the event. The small, competitive, allfemale field was soon scattered; a handful charging ahead with the unrelenting focus and fervour they apply to their endurance racing.

I declined Alaina’s initial invitation to join the inaugural 48-Hour Pure Peak Grit because I had two other super-hilly long-distance challenges lined up for July. I am Dutch, a flatlander. I am scared of hills and have done my best to avoid them. Since I started cycling in 2011, I may have made one or two exceptions, the Porkers 400km, is one such memorable exception, but the flatlands are my comfort zone – I’d choose a headwind over a climb, any day. Yet, after a few years of playing to my strengths and achieving some success in long-distance time trialling, 2019 was to be the year of working on my weaknesses. Doing the 500km Ride the Trafalgar Way (from Falmouth back to London) at the beginning of July and a DIY of the 330km Tour du Mont Blanc

(with 8,000m of climbing!) later in the month, was a daunting enough prospect. Nonchalantly squeezing in a monster ride of over 600km in length and a whopping 12,000m+ of climbing, within 48 hours would be madness, surely? Plus quite a number of the Peak District climbs are pretty steep, not the long, gradual slopes a timetrialist might prefer – mountain goat terrain – that’s not me... I had my excuses ready. Then, as time passed, I was hit with a serious bout of FOMO (fear of missing out). What a shame it would be to miss out on such a beautiful ride, on the opportunity to participate in an inaugural event and on meeting 10 long-distance kick-ass women I admired? So, I changed my mind and told Alaina I would join the fun after all. It turned out to be one of the best decisions I made this year.

❝… the height and wind combined to make me regret my shorts and T-shirt summer attire

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Part one pulled riders over the mid-west Peaks area; a corner of quiet, thin, silvery roads weaving through the contours of green hillsides. Two of us climbed to the gritty outcrop of Windgather rocks as the sun painted the evening sky a rich blood-orange.

By nightfall, you could convince yourself from Disley towards the Stockport signs that you were returning to metropolitan lands, but this path then took an acute turn, having us climb through a murky forest to find the purpose of this diversion – Blaze Hill. For me, this steep grinder was accompanied by bass note beats pounding through the air from an adjacent rave tent. All I could do was joyfully fist-pump my way up, and laugh at that reminder of the contrasting life I could be living on a Friday night. What we were doing was way more fun.

Finally the road wound through the last urbanised stretch for a while, skirting the Macclesfield back-streets to slide us on to the Cat and Fiddle. As ascent was smoothly but rapidly gained up the dark, and exposed A-road, the height and wind combined to make me regret my shorts and T-shirt summer attire.

Control point one allowed riders to collect supplies at an unsociable hour before entering more remote patches through the night. The event photographer, Rich Marshall, and my good friend Steve Pawley caught the girls here making some desperately quick turnarounds: gobs

A L I C E T H O M S O N

shovelled with petrol-station provisions, and bikes reweighted with water, while half cycling away again.

Part two explored the wilder moorlands south of Buxton, ascending Axe Edge and looping around three back lane sticklers to the village of Flash, the UK’s highest settlement.

A short descent took another turn back uphill, in order to incorporate Hollinsclough Rake. This road warmed my slightly fatigued morale as it allowed me to be witness to the dawn skies revealing a row of obscure ancient reef knoll hills, Chrome and Parkhouse.

A final skirt through dense, ghostly fog clinging to the hills above Leek, led to an exhilarating drop through the sleeping town and on to the second control point. Time stamp photo taken, crew and fellow riders updated, then only a few more lumps until a deep drop among limestone walls to start the gravelly Larkstone Lane. Here a ferocious group of cows forced me to activate my agility advantage, and carefully lift my heavily-laden Vaaru MPA over the barbed-wire fence into the adjacent field. I learned later that my companions didn’t need to exercise such superhuman powers… as they weren’t afraid of cows.

I was soon alerted to the news of fellow riders calling it a day for various respectable reasons, which disheartened me quite a bit.

Before long, another fruitful descent flowed into

the gorgeous village of Ilam, which marks the base of the popular Dovedale National Nature Reserve, but there was no time for country strolling as the Ilam Moor Lane climb carried me back into the hills and towards the town of Ashbourne. At 7am, I couldn’t have been happier; knowing that the Subway was about to open and provide not only coffee, but the new vegan sub. After an early morning sleepdeprived lull, this brief stop supplied me with the buzz I needed, and it didn’t leave me until the finish.

I shared some time with fellow rider and “Everesting” record holder Alice Thompson into and beyond the next control point of Bakewell; the poor girl got battered by my incessant yapping up and over this ridiculously tough corner of the Peaks. Rowsley Bar probably took the crown of toughest hill for me on this route, as it had my clearly unconditioned back screaming while I struggled to keep my pedalling momentum up with that of my mouth!

Another diversion linked a further three back lane sticklers before returning past Rowsley to the steady stinger of “Hells Bank” out of Beeley. This gorgeous lane rises out of forest up to a patch of purplish moorland, which sprayed a mist of the only rain of the weekend on to us; a refreshing gust before the fast downhill to Curbar. Refuelling at one of those chic roadside saviours of all cyclists (a petrol station) hyped us for the perky hairpin of Curbar Gap. We were sucked

I was a bit of a last minute addition to this challenge. Working full time in Bristol it was a logistical nightmare but there was no question about whether it was worth it. I love the Peak District, a good challenge and meeting some inspirational women was too good to miss. The weather looked perfect. I’m a hilllover, but was still a bit intimidated. We split up quite quickly, and after chasing Jasmijn Muller’s wheel for a while I gave up and went solo before joining up with Ede Harrison and Lulu Drinkwater. The nature of the Peak District meant that there were many more climbs than the 42 advertised. A few climbs into the ride and I thought I must have ticked off some hills, before GPS told me I was approaching hill number one. This was a recurring theme, but with good legs I ticked them off, rolled through checkpoint one and deeper into the night. By 4am I was struggling. Starting after a full work week had been a stretch. The riding on Saturday was knackering. At a low point, Alaina caught up with me. I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone with such boundless energy. Even so, I wasn’t making fast enough progress to make it round in time to get back to work for Monday. By Castleton (360km, 8,000m) I was low in the fun department and feeling the sleep deprivation and lack of proper food. I called my partner, Joe and opted to cycle to his mum’s house for the night, cutting out 100km of the route, and resuming the next morning.

On Sunday I was rested and refuelled. The route around the north Peaks was stunning, and the roads were quiet, though the climbs were just as savage. I caught a glimpse of a flying Jasmijn again, and reunited with Alaina at the top of Holme Moss to finish the route with her. Pure Peak Grit was a great idea, and a real test. I’ll be back for the missing 100kms, and there’s talk of 2020 already…

L U C Y R O E B U C K

up to a bend which nears the gritty edge popular with rock climbers. Official halfway point of 300km. I’m sure all the remaining girls asked the question: “It must be all downhill from here, right?” Curbar also marked the sad exit from two more Peak Gritters; there were now only five of us remaining. With an awareness of the time ticking before I would be able to get a bit of sleep, we hit the next segment of winding roads, devouring a wide valley vista in the late afternoon light at Longstone Edge. Next up was Monsal Head, which drew us out of its beautiful dale, to the popular viewpoint; we were then kindly offered ice cream by an onlooker, once her question: “Are you cycling far?” was answered in earnest. Knowing there was no “hill” for at least 25km caused Alice and me to experience an expectation-reality gap. The whole flipping thing was hills, whether they were a “hill” in the route description or not. Whose bright idea was this anyway?

Eventually our expectations were surpassed with the stiff Beast of Bradwell, which we enjoyed knowing our proximity to Castleton down below. It was here that Alice made her decision: she had been unsure she’d be able to complete the ride with how she felt, and doing it in a reasonable time considering work and travel constraints. Her plan was to sleep a good night, and simply cut the next

Pure Peak Grit, encompassed everything I love about cycling – the challenge, meeting new people and mostly… hills. I’m not hugely experienced in long-distance cycling, but I love to take on new challenges and adventures, and I just wanted to give it my best shot. This ride was an amazing opportunity to try taking on an untried route which no-one knew was even possible. Although I was not able to finish it, I learned loads and just loved being a part of it! 100km so she could appreciate the final parts in full.

I trooped onwards out of Castleton and up the magnificent limestone gorge of Winnats Pass; its 20 per cent stretch nothing but a repetitive brief pause in pedal motion for me now. I became acquainted with my own affinity for masochism upon entering a nasty triangle incorporating Peaslows east from Chapel en le Frith, and then the “no hills” (hilarious) stretch to next control town Glossop.

Being aware of the one place open in Glossop which would definitely calm my high desperation for cake in that moment, drew me to wasting a vital 30 minutes ensuring I got it. A group of lairy lads at the bar were joking, about what little ride this young-looking girl donned in pink was up to at 9pm on a Saturday night: they were promptly silenced at my response. A wonderful lady left me some lentil stew and food for the morning as I treated myself to a bed in her Airbnb home for an entire three hours 45 minutes.

At 3am the “last little push” euphoria had me ravaging the Snake Pass, content to have loaded my bike with food for most of the day and two litres of water. A nasty doubleedged sword when hurtling towards some of the area’s most infamous gradients. My back soon reminded me of this during the struggle of a misty Mam Tor, and the sustained Sir William.

Via control six of Hathersage, the Dale offered a steady winding grind to a top out over the spectacular edges of Stanage, Higgar Tor and Burbage. I also found that Jasmijn Muller, our international 24 hour TT champion of 2017, was having a more chilled approach that day, only being an hour ahead. Now into home territory (at one point within two miles of my front door), the gorgeous

lanes fringing this border of the Peak District and Sheffield smoothly turned my wheels. I arrived into the Bradfield loop, which I knew, would be brutal. A consolation was the warming blue skies opening up, and the knowledge that the local post office would soon be doing the same. Up to Higher Bradfield via a lovely 18.4 per cent kicker, some awe-inspiring panoramas were offered via the swooping diversion loops to take me up the Bradfield Beast. Perfectly returning for 9am, I could fill my water bottles, sun-cream it up, and scoff some vegan brownies from this little Lower Bradfield haven.

Up and over the infamous Strines Moors, towards the feared hairpin of Deliverance, I suddenly became soaked with joy: this absolutely incredible ride, comprised of some of the

❝… content to have loaded my bike with food for most of the day and two litres of water. A nasty double-edged sword when hurtling towards some of the area’s most infamous gradients

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N I C K Y S H A W

I couldn’t miss the opportunity to ride this epic route with an awesome group of women despite it being quite soon after the Trans Alba, a 1,075 mile ultra race around Scotland. With six days between the two rides I wasn’t fully recovered in time to tackle the PPG full on. I completed just over a third of the route, which accounted for 215km and 4,500m ascent. My highlights? The first few climbs with Alaina accompanied by a beautiful sunset as we rode into the night, and a late night solo ascent of the Cat and Fiddle with clear skies and the bright moon above. An epic challenge that I will return and complete!

D E B R A G O D D A R D

most stunning riding in the UK linked together, was actually happening, and it was being shared by others – though it was tinged with a sadness that it was nearly all over.

A glide downhill towards Stocksbridge took me past two guys, who promptly stood out of their saddles to surge past me on a slight uphill. I don’t normally condone this “ego game”, but what felt like their urge to overtake me led me to proceed at a reasonable pace myself, with all my food bags, and continue onwards and far past them. I wish I could have told them what mile I was on when they tried to muscle past me!

Climb 38 now, and the latest national hill climbing time trial spot: Pea Royd Lane. Yes, those 20 per cent bends still felt a bit harsh. The undulating farmland of this northern quarter offered a so-called “hill free” 26km until the next challenge – Jackson Bridge.

This steep and bending backroad brought me towards the final control point and marker of the last epic climb, Holmfirth. The tears were definitely building, and the energy and enjoyment overflowing as I started the gradual ascent up the beautiful Tour de France-featured Holme Moss. It was here that I caught my earlier ride buddy Alice. We decided to roll along the final 50km together.

A contrasting and less fanatical ending through towns and traffic nearing Buxton, eventually led us to the nominally determined 7.5km Long Hill where we were greeted by our HQ hostess Rachel Batt. Climbing the official last hill, I could see in the distance the A-road hugging the brown-domed bluff of Axe Edge. Could you believe that’s

❝A group of lairy lads at the bar were joking, about what little ride this younglooking girl donned in pink was up to at 9pm on a Saturday night: they were promptly silenced at my response

❞

I agreed to take part in PPG as I love climbing hills on my bike and am partial to a crazy challenge but mostly it was for the opportunity to meet and ride with a group of truly inspirational women. Unfortunately family commitments intervened and I was only able to complete half of the distance but make no mistake that 300km was the hardest ride of my life!

The biggest challenges, other than the obvious unrelenting hills, were starting on an evening after a day at work, a four hour drive to the start in Buxton and the lack of opportunities for refuelling (I love my grub!) The scenery was spectacular and the money raised by the challenge will go a small way towards maintaining this beautiful environment. I even have plans to go back and finish the other half…

Pure Peak torture… the snaking route is available via www.purepeakgrit.cc – with a wall of fame listing for anyone able to complete it

where this all started, in a haze of passionate adventure just 44 hours earlier?

We approached the finish line to the applause of a group of brilliant individuals: many of the girls who started this ride, and the people who helped make it happen. Jasmijn and I completed PPG within the 48 hours, Alice Thomson completed 500km within good time, and Ede Harrison and Lulu Drinkwater (enjoying a few more flapjacks and café stops) did the route in 64 hours.

All-in-all, we raised £1,200 for Friends of the Peak District

to aid them with the valuable work they do in protecting this amazing playground, and the communities and wildlife it sustains.

My dream to link the best of the Peak District’s road cycling challenges together became a reality, thanks to the collective ambition and enthusiasm of my fellow female riders, and the work of the whole team. I cannot wait to open it up as an official event next year for all, but perhaps with a bit of tweaking to hopefully get a higher proportion of finishers.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thanks go to: Rapha, JE James Cycles of Sheffield, Rich bike-fitter at Pedal Precision, RawVelo bars, Victoria Gray website designer, Richard Marshall photographer, Steven Pawley emergency back up and vehicle/moral support, Rachel Batt and James Stewart for HQ hosting and culinary delights, Neaha Patel for the promotion graphic, and Rod Barrar for promotion photographs.

And, of course, the riders: Alice Thomson, Angela Walker, Debs Goddard, Ede Harrison, Jamijn Muller, Lucy Roebuck, Lulu Drinkwater, Nicky Shaw, Sian Lambert. Please consider donating to support the cause by visiting www.purepeakgrit.cc for the route, donation link, and future information about PPG 2020.

Power of two… Lulu Drinkwater, left, and Ede Harrison make climbing Ilam Moor Lane look easy A N G E L A W A L K E R

S I A N L A M B E R T