55 hours 15 minutes of the whatever the North could throw at me.
The Dales Divide is a 600km mixed terrain route with 9000m of climbing. Having heard of the route last year and with it being not far from where I live, it had always been my plan to complete the route in some way. With COVID this year changing plans, I found myself available for the rescheduled start date for the ‘Grand Depart’ on the August Bank Holiday Weekend. I say available, as ready to race would not be the correct term. I hadn’t really planned on racing at all this year, but I couldn’t resist giving it a go alongside likeminded riders. So a quick email to Chris, the organiser a few weeks before and my name was on the start list.
Since coming back from Europe at the start of the year, most of my riding has tended to venture off road, including walking and carrying the bike. This, it seems, put me in good stead for the race as this was exactly what the route had in store.
Forgetting how much prep before racing these events takes, I spent the week leading up to the race faffing about with the bike and the kit, while also breaking straps on my saddle bag and unintentionally putting a big hole in my tyre. Feeling somewhat prepared, I managed to make it to the start line in Arnside on the West coast an hour before roll out on Saturday morning, which put me at ease and I mentally prepared for the ride ahead.
Last minute face stuffing of malt loaf and nutella cereal bars aside, I pedalled to the promenade just before 8am with around 80 or so other riders (socially distancing of course) where Chris, the organiser and Pat Hall, Mike Hall’s Mum, was there to say a few words and send us on our way. Pat and Mike’s words stuck with all of us ‘crazies’ through the race and without Mike, none of us would have been there that morning, about to head off on a crazy adventure.
Day 1- Saturday – Broken bags and bus stops
8am arrived and as with all these races, a group of fresh looking cyclists with too much stuff strapped to our bikes headed off East.
The first couple of hours or so saw the group thin out and the time spent holding gates open for other riders reduce the further we got from Arnside. There were a few off road sections through some woods that made sure everyone was awake and a few boggy bridleway sections that forced some walking/running. The road sections got shorter and shorter and then we reached the Dales proper and the first off road climb loomed as I thought I was going off track. No that was definitely the way.
The pace was quick, and not paticularly knowing what state of fitness I was in, being over a year since I had raced, I just tried to keep up with riders around me, which seemed to work out well.
The descent towards Ribblehead Viaduct was rough and although rideable, on a rigid bike with bags flopping about, wasn’t the most enjoyable or fastest I have been on a bike. Riding under the viaduct, Richard Gate was just up ahead and I attempted to take my phone out to take a photo as I nearly dropped it, I thought it was best to just put it back and concentrate on the riding. Passing on some of the Three Peaks Race route that I raced in last year, I got an urge to pick up the pace, it only lasted a few minutes, but good memories of the tough day last year came flooding back to me while riding.
On the next off road section, after a morning of my saddle bag swinging profusely side to side, a strap snapped and that was it, broke. I got off, and zip tied the bag to the saddle rails, hoping it would stick for the rest of the race (it did). This rough ground was not doing my bags any good and I was questioning whether a different setup would have been better for this race.
With the race going past the organisers house, he had put out water and snacks for the riders to take as they passed. This came at a perfect time as I had just ran out of water and wasnt going to turn down snacks! I came into the resupply just after another racer, but by the time I had put my bike down and got my bottles out, he was off again, I thought I had better do the same, so quickly filled my bottles up, took a bag of something salty and I was off.
The concentration of riders diluted as the route made its way through the Dales and into the afternoon I turned my phone on for the first time coming past Malham Tarn. I saw a few messages asking if I was alright as by my tracker, I was still in Arnside. I checked my tracker and as it had been on the back of my broken saddle bag, it had took a beating, so took it off, and made sure the batteries were in properly, which they weren’t, and with that the green lights started to flash and I was back online. Quickly checking Trackleaders, I could see that me and only a few others were out front, this spurred me on a bit and as the Dales were behind me, I upped the pace a little and remembered my plan of food at York, which pushed me even more.
The Dales spat me out onto more familiar roads and with this saw a very flat and fast section towards York and the sun was setting behind me for the first time on the race.
I rode through the busy Saturday night in York, down the Shambles and along the cycle path to my planned Pizza shop stop just East of the city. This was the first major stop of the day and at 9pm, I was pleased of my progress so far. A sit down meal (on the floor outside the pizza shop) pushed me on into the night and with another 30 miles until my planned bivvy, the lights came on and the muddy bridleways loomed.
On a map, everything looks relatively easy, go from one place to the next, on the ground, this is usually far from the case. Especially having to haul your bike over a barbed wire fence into a boggy field. This was the route though, triple checking the GPS, my phone and the bridleway signs. The push up the farmers field started to wear me down a bit, but it was the missed bridleway turn off that took me through ankle deep cow crap that saw me reaching for any expletive that came to mind! The music coming through my ears helped ease the smells, sort of.
Passing a rider setting up his bivvy around 00:30 got me thinking that I should just throw mine down in a field as this was getting tough. I thought against it, as it would still be there to tackle when I woke up, so best to get this section over with now. It got easier and with the next road section came my planned bus stop bivvy in the tiny town of Tibthorpe. So tiny and quiet, that just blowing up my sleeping mat felt like I was ruining everyones nights sleep. Luckily no one came out to shout at me and I kept very quiet while setting up.
Just as I was settling down, 2 bike lights came cruising past, which I think were Richard and Alex. I didn’t care at that point, I just wanted sleep.
Day 2 – Sunday – Bogs
Waking up 20 minutes before my alarm at 04:30, I made the most of it and was packed and cycling before 04:30. Not feeling particularly tired, I had slept most of the way through and had some energy for the morning before breakfast.
The first 40 mile or so to Scarbourgh took much longer than anticipated, there were some quick road sections but also some pretty nasty bridleways though farms, getting lost and backtracking and lumping the bike over locked gates was the story. Oh as well as a lot of mud and cow crap!
Moral and energy was low by the time I reached Scarborough and I scouted out the McDonalds to get a warm breakfast and to have a bit of a rest as I wasn’t feeling 100%.
I treated myself to a lot of food, alongside a coffee and an early morning milkshake. After spending too long sitting down, I prised myself out of the seat and pedalled onto a petrol station to find a jetwash. There was so much mud stuck on my bike and tyres that the wheels were struggling to go round in the frame and the gears weren’t really working. So a good mud clearance was needed. After £2, my bike was gleaming and ready to tackle the next bog, which it did about 5 miles after the jetwash.
The North York Moors loomed and with this my spirits rose as I knew some of the route over this part and was looking forward to some good progress. This came in parts, but the route still somehow managed to find the bogs and after helping a couple with a puncture, I found myself walking for a mile or so along this…
Maybe with less rain in the lead up to the race, this would have been a nice rideable section, but not this weekend! I was pleased to finish this section and to make it to the tarmac.
After this, the route then joined the Cleveland Way, which for most of it was unrideable for me. Maybe someone with more technical ability and some suspension, this would have been rideable, but most of it was a walk or a carry. Some insanely steep inclines as well as descents that had massive rock slabs for walkers. This was becoming less of a bike race and more a test of mental durability. Anyway, I ploughed on. My schedule thrown out as I was hours behind where I had planned to have been at this time, I just aimed for Osmotherly as I knew that would be the North York Moors over with and some quicker riding until the Dales again.
I made it to Osmotherly early evening and I was shattered. I plonked down outside at a pub, ordered 2 plates of chips and a coke and let the previous few hours sink in and start to think about the next section. While I was waiting for food, Richard Gate rolled in and joined me sitting outside the pub. He wasnt enjoying it one bit and had decided to call it a day. Not being able to ride a bike in a bike race really starts to do your head in after a couple days. He also had a bike race in Spain in a few weeks and didn’t want to risk injury from the constant pressure on the body of off road riding. I was sad to hear this as it had been great racing with Richard as we were back and forth since the start, but he made the right decison all things considered. The pressure to ride on eased slightly, but I came into the race with the main aim of finishing and this was what I was going to do. Chips ate, I said goodbye to Richard and rode towards the setting sun. I reached Northallerton before sunset and jumped into a pub just before closing time to get my bottles filled and for some late night snacks for the road.
My original plan was to ride through the night until the finish and as night set I though I was ready for this, but later in the night it became clear that I really wasn’t.
Past Catterick, there were 2, 7 foot high locked gates I had to lob the bike and myself over through a farm. This was less than ideal, and although we had been pre-warned that these gates might be locked, it wasnt a pleasant start to the night.
As I started to climb on the road towards the Dales, the temperature decreased and I started to get very cold. My feet were soaking from all of the bog walking and these just kept the rest of my body pretty cold.
After mostly road to Leyburn, I made it there just as most of the pubs were shutting and with it being bank holiday, the quiet streets were starting to fill with singing souls. I stopped under a dull lamp and ate what turned out to be one of the last bits of food that I had with me. I thought I had much more, but had eaten much more than I thought and with no food places open, wouldn’t be able to eat until tomorrow morning. Stupid mistake, but there wasn’t much I could do about it now, so on I cycled.
I decided to see what the next section was like to Grinton, then if feeling good, I would carry on, if not, I would stop in Grinton. Starting to get very cold and with the section after Grinton being pretty remote, I thought for safety reasons it wouldn’t be best to continue while I wasn’t in the best of states.
The climb out of Leyburn was mostly on road, then onto some double track, where the moon was lighting the way and up ahead I saw two red bike lights flashing. I raced up to them and they were also in the race, doing the shorter route, so we had a chat and I carried on after a 5 minute rest. It was good to know that I wasn’t the only crazy riding at this time.
The descent into Grinton was tough. Mostly walking and the route finding was difficult with a mixture of long grass, darkness and yep, bogs again. After a comical over the handlebar fall, walking was my only option if I didnt want to get my whole body soaking.
After this, I decided to find somewhere to get some sleep before the final push to the finish in the morning. I descended into Grinton and to the Dales Bike Centre, where I knew they had some big outdoor tables and a covering. I set my bivvy up on the top of a table and took my soaking clothes off and tried to get warm, it wasnt happening. I was shivering like mad. After the race I checked the temperature that night and it was 0 degrees. The sleeping bag I had brought was meant for +15. Another lesson learned.
The few hours I stopped for were not very beneficial. I was shivering and waking up ever 20 minutes or so trying to get warm, it just wasn’t happening. Gloves on feet, all layers on, nothing. Just after 4am I gave up and decided getting changed and riding was my only option to try and get my body temperature back up to something normal. Maybe I should have just kept riding.
Day 3 – Monday – Hanging on
I wore all my clothes and pedalled as hard as I could up the hill out of Grinton in an attempt to get some warmth back into my body. A light of a rider catching me up the hill, a passing ‘morning’, and he was on his way, proved how slow I was going.
I got to the top of Greets Hill after the 2.5 mile climb and took a minute to watch the sky atart to turn a dark orange as the sun rose. I was last up here a couple months back in the exact same spot. This is why I do these races, these moments. The moments of calm in madness. The feeling is untouchable.
I started to descend and kept pedalling to keep warm. I then came across a bothy, which if I knew about, would have stayed in last night. Forward planning definitely helps on these races. Another mistake.
The top of the Dales were stunning this morning and I tried to take it all in, stopping too many times to take photos, but the rests were well recieved.
After dropping down to a lower level, the route followed bridleways through some more tough, cow pat covered fields, which were draining to say the least.
Getting into the valley and Askgrigg around 07:30, I hunted for food. Nowhere was open and the cafes only opened at 08:30. I sat outside one and tried to keep warm, I was freezing.
The cafe owner came out to put up some tables and chairs and I got up to ask if I could just sit inside to try and get a warm. However, before I had the chance to speak, she exclaimed they didn’t open until 08:30 and locked the doors behind her.
I went back to sitting down and fell asleep with my head in my hands. I woke up and the cafe was open. Perfect.
I ordered 3 butties a coffee, a hot chocolate and a slice of cake. The woman behind the counter gave me a strange look, I cast a big smile back and proceeded to fill my face with all the food I had just ordered.
As I was finishing, the sun came out and with the food and hot drinks in my belly, I was starting to warm up, eventually.
I peeled myself out of the seat, took a layer off, pushed half a buttie in tin foil up my jersey to keep me warm and off up the Cam High Road I set.
The climb was tough going but I was feeling 100% better and was able to push on.
Reaching the top, the descent was idyllic. Some rough ground but rideable and the weather was perfect.
The last 30 miles or so were mostly faster going. Apart from one field where a bunch of 20 or so bulls took an unwanted interest in me.
Reaching the coast and eventually the promenade just after 3pm, I had made it. Another rider was at the finish line with a can of coke to see me in and that was it, perfect.
A tough few days, some paths I will be re-visiting, some I won’t, but a fun few days spent outdoors pushing to see what is achievable. Thats what its all about.
Jordan Matthews 