Up then down, then up then down, then up some more…
520 Miles
Too many feet of climbing
60 ish hours
The Hell of the North West is a road based long distance bike ‘race’ (it’s not a race).
Its 520 miles with over 45,000 ft of climbing.
The route was made by Dan Jones from Random Adventure. He basically linked all the hard hills in the north west with some harder hills and made a route out of it. Sounded like my kind of thing.
Being unable to start the Dales Divide 2021 because of an ear infection, I was itching to race in the days leading up to the race and I was well rested, which wouldn’t have been the case if I did take part in the Dales Divide.
The official roll out was near Preston, but I was taking a DIY approach and starting and finishing from Barnard Castle on the route, not really having the time to travel to and from the start.
Day 1 – Light rain, heavy rain, bouncy rain, wet rain, all the rain
- 188.93 mi Distance
- 15:10:25 Moving Time
- 19,518 ft Elevation
Its hard to explain to people still why I ride these things, its unexplainable really. If you want to know, go try something similar, then you will know.
Moving from a warm car with coffee and food proved difficult, but once 9am came i was pedalling away from Bowes Museum and had 520 to go until I would be back there, with a few hills in the way.
The first few hours were good, must have had a tail wind. The rain started after a couple of hours and didn’t let up until later on in the afternoon. Bouncing off tarmac kind of rain. Its hard in the rain, but once you’re wet, you’re wet, so keeping moving is the only option really.
Skirting past High Force and taking the right turning to Chapel Fell, one of the highest paved roads in England, the rain got heavier and going up was fine as it kept me warm, but descending, I was getting cold. It’s always the way, tough thing to be able to regulate the body temperature.
These roads I know well and I can almost switch off, just keep moving the legs round. The bike seemed good, slightly too heavy on the steeper gradients. Something I knew I would regret in the Lakes.
After a few more ups and downs I reached the first Checkpoint for me at North Pennine Cycles in Nenthead. This got me out of my own head and I chatted to the owner for 10 minutes or so about all things bikes, a nice break.
After some Jelly Babies I continued along the route to Alston and resisted the temptation to stop at the infamous Spar garage that has seen me well over the past few years with late night food stops and Audax refills.
The climb was good, apart from the cars. I have always liked the climb, but with it being a hotspot for bikers and fast car drivers, I dont tend to cycle up it very often. The descent is always fun though and before long I was on the only relatively flat(ish) part of the route in between the North Pennines and the Lake District.
Reaching the Lakes, the route went north of the Skiddaw range and cut south alongside Bassenthwaite. I had food on my mind, as always, but more so after 8 hours of pretty much non stop cycling. I hit the Keswick Spar for some provisions for the night, wolfed down a chippy tea from my favourite fish shop in Keswick, filled my water bottles up and was away to battle with the notoriously steep hills of the Lakes.
The first pass was Honsiter, another one that I have pedalled up more times than I can remember, but harder this time with a good days cycling in the legs and a loaded bike. I cycled up the same hill a few weeks back but on a mtb with a much larger cassette on the back, oh how nice those few extra gears would have been. Getting past the hostel and to the top was sweet and that was the next CP down.
Steep down and the song ‘Brassneck’ by The Wedding Present popped into my head, as this descent is used in the TV series The A Word. Wow, my mind is full of useless information. I would say these thoughts are only because maybe I was becoming delirious after being on my bike all day, but no, these useless thoughts are a pretty normal occurrence no matter how many miles I have ridden.
Onto Newlands, which was perfect at this time of night. With the rain and the ticking clock, the roads were really quiet and it felt as if I had the Lakes to myself. Perfect.
The climb is never easy, but it was soon over and I was excited to keep riding deeper into the lakes and see how far I could get until I needed sleep.
Whinlatter pass came and went and after a few more ups and downs I was in the village of Gosforth. Wanting a bit of a sit down I stumbled into a pub with music that was too loud (am I getting old), and sat down for a few pints of fizzy pop and had some time to catch up with messages from home and check to see how the other riders were doing.
With starting at a different point, it was hard to gauge how I was doing in comparison to all the other riders, but it looked as thought the weather was taking its toll already. The North Pennines can be brutal, even at the best of times.
Anyway, after 30 minutes or so I weaved around the stumbling smokers outside the pub and set off into the darkness, with the knowledge that Hardknott pass was my next climb.
The road to Hardknott is great, a flat valley road and without any cars and only a few groups of people stumbling back to their tents from the pub, the sunset was breathtaking over the Lakes. I didn’t take many photos during the ride, I was just soaking it all in, being there.
Every time I have ridden up Hardknott, as soon as I see the road from a distance I feel instantly sick. Luckily this time it was dark so that didn’t happen, the headlights of a car cresting the summit were the only thing that made it recognisable as a sizeable hill.
I had already decided that I was going to push up the steepest parts. Firstly, because its just about achevieable to ride up it on a light race bike, never mind on a loaded bike and secondly, saving my knees earlier on in the ride would mean that I had more chance of finishing and not having to stop because of injury. This walking up hill technique I came across too late in Ireland during the Transatlantic a few years back. I utilise it whenever is needed now and I have no shame at all walking up a hill, it just means you can keep going further down the line.
The descent is difficult in the daytime, but with a roaring headwind, rain and in the dark, it proved slightly more difficult. Taking it steady was the only option here. I got to the bottom and the route took a right, into the valley, therefore avoiding Wrynose Pass, which I was very pleased about. The headwind was now a tailwind. How quickly cycling can go from walking a snails pace up a hill into a roaring headwind, to freewheeling over 20mph through a valley with a tailwind. It obviously was short lived, but savour it I did.
The next CP was the Holy Trinity Church at Seathwaite. I reached this, took a photo and then both my phone and my bike computer ran out of battery at the same time. After a bit of faffing in the dark searching for dropped charging cables, I was on my way again through the night and starting to think about having a rest.
My plan was to make it to Ambleside for a few hours sleep, but I got to Hawkshead, saw a nice enough bus stop (is this a thing) and with it being nearly 3am, I dove in.
All in all a good first day, legs were not feeling too bad and apart from some very wet socks, shoes and feet, everything was going to plan. This wouldn’t last, of course, it never does. It wouldn’t be half as exciting if it did.
Part 2 – Milkman, Sun, Sunderland lost, Keighley boy racers, sunset, Haworth at night again, dodgy cars, sunrise and the rest
- 331.83 mi Distance
- 30 Hrs Moving Time
- 35,000 ft Elevation
The revving of the milk mans van woke me up this morning. Better or worse than an alarm?
He shouted over ‘morning’ then asked if I was waiting for a bus, then went on to expalin that there were no buses coming because of a bridge out of use in Ambleside. It took me a while to process what he was saying as I was still half asleep, but he went on with his round and I was just left slightly confused.
I managed to get a few hours sleep and as soon as I packed my sleeping kit up and on my bike I was ready for it.
Luckily the bridge in Ambleside wasn’t closed for bikes and an early morning climb up the Struggle to the top of Kirsktone was just that, a struggle. There were a few campervans parked up by the side of the road and one person just brewing up their morning coffee, it was very hard not to pull over and ask for a cup.
Down the other side, along the stillness of Ullswater and into Pooley Bridge for the next CP and a bit of sit down.
This was the end of the Lakes section. Although I love the Lakes, me and my knees were pleased to be riding away.
Over the M6 and across to Kirkby Stephen, I stopped for some late breakfast and a coffee to perk me up, ready for the Dales.
I restocked at a supermarket and then headed towards the long climb to Tan Hill. The weather was much better today and I think I even managed to take my rain coat off for a few minutes while climbing towards the pub.
I reached the pub and it was busy as always, so I took a quick photo as it was a CP and enjoyed the long downhill to Reeth, always a good descent.
I was headed into the Dales proper now and as the route headed South, the hills came thick and fast, with my mind blurring a lot of them all together, so the memory is lacking a bit here. Until 3pm, when Sunderland were playing the second leg of the playoff. I tried to tune in to the commentary, but lack of signal saw me miss most of the second half. In hindsight, this was a good thing as it was a shambles, but I wasn’t to know this until later on in the day when I got my signal back.
The road from Arncliffe to Malham Tarn was breathtaking and with the sun blaring down on me, the climb out of Arncliffe was tough, but worth the views from the top.
After passing Malham Cove, the road was lumpy to the next CP at Bolton Abbey, and another quick photo saw me head off towards Keighley, where I had planned to have a sit down, eat some food and charge my dying phone and bike computer batteries.
Coming into Keighley wasnt the most pleasant experince, the roads were busy with Saturday night boy racers and people who seemed to be in a rush. Maybe it was just normal driving, but I was less tolerant to them after spending the last 30 hours or so on quiet roads away from a lot of cars.
Anyway, Mcdonalds tracked down, a monumental amount of food eaten, battereis charged and with a re stock of food and water ready for the night shift, I headed off into the dark once more. The long climb out of Keighley was made harder by cars, but after an hour or so, I was once again on quieter roads.
Over Oxenhope Moor with only a few cars for company wasnt too bad, only again the windchill on the way down. This part of the ride reminded me of All Points North in 2019, where I seemed to be endlessly climbing and descending, then through an orange glow town with bars and takeaways full, then repeat.
The next few hours blend a bit into one, but I did stop at a 24 hour garage for a coffee and watched as a number of taxis came in with people scrambling out to get some cash or to stock up on late night snacks.
Funny things happen early on Sunday mornings, no matter where you are. This was epitomised by someone shouting “Its Bradley Wiggins” at me as they stumbled home, pizza box in hand. I laughed, gave them a wave and carried on.
A dark climb brought me to the top of a hill where I could see for miles around. Manchester lights were clear and some more orange glow towns and cities surrounded the black night. Another great reason to ride a bike at this time of night.
Pedalling along a dark road, here is a reason why its not a great time to ride a bike. A car with all the lights on was parked up the road ahead and too many people were in the car for my liking! I averted my eyes and thats all I’m saying on the matter!
I reached the next CP at a viewpoint and stopped to take a photo and got a bit of a fright by what I thought was an empty car in the car park next me, again people in the car, I should know by now.
Sunday
Anyway, after this I pushed on to the Start/Finish point, well not for me, but for everyone else.
This is when things started to go downhill. Most accounts of people who ride through the night, they get a boost when the sun comes up, the complete opposite happens for me. I instantly go tired.
Eyes start to droop and riding through quiet lanes I start to feel like I need to sleep. I try it all to stop myself, but I couldn’t fight it anymore. I see a bench, it’s raining, I don’t care. I lie down in what I’m wearing, still with helmet on and fall instantly asleep. I get waken up 20 minutes later by a passing car. I’m freezing. So I get going again.
I phone home, to check in and keep me motivated to reach the finish. This helps massively. My feet are like ice blocks so I get off up hills to walk and warm my feet off, this helps too.
Finally I make it to the HQ and see Dan. I’m knackered. All I want is sleep, but I want even more to make it back home tonight, so after some well recieved coffee toast and a nice chat, I head North.
The last leg
80 miles, a few big climbs and home. Not too daunting without over 400 miles in the legs, a little more so with them in the legs.
Through Bowland, where everyone seems to be gravelling it up. Nice place to pedal though, so I don’t blame them.
Up and over the Cross of Greet, which I remember well from All Points North 2019, not feeling as quick this time up, few more mile in the legs. Still a nice climb. Feels like another world climbing up the valley.
I stop in High Bentham for a Co-op raid, stuff my face sitting on the path and on my way again. Its warm, the sun is out, but the black clouds are heading right for me.
The climb from Ingleton to Ribblehead was horrible, busy road and slow going. I stop again through tiredness. Chewing gum and a caffeine tablet helps. I’m glad there is only 40 mile or so left, I’m pretty done.
I race a couple on road bikes down into Hawes for the hell of it and spot my parents in the cafe. Have a coffee, a sandwich and a quick chat, then off again.
Buttertubs is a blur, and on the descent the rain starts. Real rain. I don’t know why but I start to enjoy it more. Maybe it’s because I know I only have 1 more climb to go, it doesn’t matter what the weather is like.
After the last of my CPs, I come across a rabbit in the middle of the road. It was hurt. I couldn’t ride past it.
I pop it on my handlebars and wheel back down to the pub and leave it in the capable hands of the pub owner. I hope it makes it, it was even more soaked through than me.
The Stang climb was as tough as ever, even more so with the horrific rain. I shiver on the downhill. I don’t think I have been so wet before on the bike. I sprint the last 5 or so miles back to Barnard Castle to try and get warm through some massive floods and finish.
A hug in the rain was what I raced back for.
Jordan Matthews 