What happened next?

Ah my friends, it seems so long since we last had discourse, and after the excitement of the C2C itself, you may (especially those with Marshmallow appendages) be missing your fix.

Let me remedy this for you, as on a bright Sunny afternoon we gathered as is our want outside Christ church, for once almost all were unhindered by the traffic. Captain C turned up on a rather springy shiny deep custard coloured steed, and we were joined by DK Brady on a steed brashly branding itself "Dirty" the fact it was rather a distinct Red in colour added to his image yet more. DKB was in fine fashion deputising for GB who whilst on annual leave had decided that life was too short not to work for a living and as such had made his excuses.

Having exchanged pleasantries under a broiling sun we spread ourselves with gay abandon across the road and as usual headed uphill to the crossroads, ambling pleasantly onwards we meandered to a quick fun descent as a pack. DKB testing his theories on numbness as he rode.

Climbing onwards we headed towards our favourite staples of Victoria, and Flight Hill where as we gracefully headed towards Lances favourite 5 bar gate, Shortlegs decided enough was enough and a dramatic barking braking maneovre to announce a Puncture was required.

Those magic thumbs once more applied themselves and we shot through the forestry ( testing the control of a myriad of dog walkers with breeds from bull terrier to small unknown yappy things) as we flew through Hades and up t'other side.

All was well, a pleasant ride was well in force and the fun of the run to Brownhill was upon us. Now Then Vicar announced he had never come this way before, always having undertaken it the other way, and that he had never beaten it yet, to which Mr Motivator kept morale high by announcing he didn't really much like it either way.

Captain C now relished the sport and shot off with his new plaything, with Tim2 in hot pursuit, following at a seasonable pace, in little time at all I was to come upon the crew, merrilly replacing another innertube, this time on Captains whitewall tyres. To add to the moment, he then noted a rather irksome tear in the wall of said tyre, all sorts of aids later, we continued and by the time we reached the road, same tyre was in yet more distress.

The random passing of time mean't that in order for the barbecue at Now Thens to be met, a route home via main road was the only option and the group split into those sorts of breakways that the peleton never normally reels in.

Tim 2 calibrated the puncturefest at 24.85km distance, 552.34 ascention, max elevation of 406.61, max speed of 29.52kmph, average moving speed of 12.91kmph.

The following barbecue included for those of more discerning tastes, movies of puncture repair action, hitting cricket bats with rather fine mallets, oilings , the secret of the pseudonym "Racing Snake" and good food, beer and company.

You never know we may even do it again another day!

Till then

Racing

Inspirational afterthoughts

What an amazing journey so well planned and organised by Racing Snake (respect). Thank you to everyone who put in such a mammoth effort on the bikes especially the riders and fixers, and those in support keeping us all moving forward safely.

And: as importantly a massive thank you to all our sponsors in helping us to support our specified charities, and to the benefit of others.

I drew inspiration from Cpl Tom Neathway (2 Para) one of seventeen service men to loose three limbs whilst serving in Afghanistan. When the going got tough it was good knowing that our money would benefit him and heroes like him that knowledge made me all the more determined to push on. He was my inspiration. You can find out more about his story if you follow this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dXudnxACHUc

Now then Vicar

Big hills, fast descents and the Sea

And so the final day dawned bright and early to the sound of much trumpet and fanfare. After yet another hearty breakfast the bikes were saddled up for one final time and with a slight wind chill we embarked from Allenheads.
Steam poured from our nostrils as we climbed steadily for the first hill of the day at around 1/2 a mile, belying the optimistic forecast of it all being downhill on day 3!
A long and winding descent awaited us and not for the last time in the day I was dropped like a stone in a very deep well as the pace was cranked up by the leaders of the peleton. After what seemed a hundred miles I saw that Captain C had waited to drag me forcibly back to the pack and as we climbed another of those steep things I nearly burst through the field.
As we gathered at the top for a round of haribo Now then Vicar confidently predicted that this was the last major hill of the day, how very wrong can you be!
Descending rapidly and with a high cadence we hit Stanhope and turned majestically upwards on a gentle climb. Captain C and Lance to prove a point kindly waited for the mortals to get a good 8 minute lead by completing their social networking before joining us and for a short period the ladies to whom we had been good samaritans raced in the thick of it.
The hill which garnered new and more succinct descriptions as time went on ( none of which appeared complimentary to my innocent ears) just kept on rising and rising in continual bursts of 90 degrees until eventually as we reached the cattle grid at halfway seemingly upside down
we halted for a brief pause before joining the headwind to the Waskerley Way.
As we began our trek across the moors having left DK Brady behind the speed increased markedly and we shot onwards and onwards like speeding bullets down towards Consett. We blew through Consett like a tornado and shortly afterwards rendevouzed for lunch before saying tearful goodbyes to DK.
The paths and tracks were now well marked and good quality and the peleton once more blitzed away. Regathering we passed through a very dizzying maze section in which The Creator somehow levitated just on the rim of a rather large hillock as he sought to find a way out (or that is what I assume he was attempting).
As the peleton gradually pulled away and just before we crossed the railway I suddenly began involuntary sideways motions as the air in my rear tire decided escape was the only option from this speeding torture. The Peleton had by chance awaited my delayed arrival and again those magic thumbs came to the rescue once more.
We were now within sight of our end and it was designated that the Snake should lead (basically to keep the wind off everyone else. So with daring and an interminably slow cadence in comparison to earlier I somehow managed to drag the peleton through the final miles!
As we passed the Stadium of Light and posed upon the promenade we were greeted by a multitude of flag waving dignataries before we raced down the beach to dip our wheels in the sea. Now then vicar holding on to the drama to the last, deciding on the way there to do his falling log impression one more time for all those gathered.

So my friends we have done it we are officially C2C veterans, we have sore bits where perhaps we never thought we would, the laughter has been abundant, the weather most clement and the company good.

Special thanks must go to our support crews who have been excellent, our families for putting up with all the preparation etc , our hosts along the way and last but not least to you who have for whatever reason read our ramblings and sponsored us.

Updates with more photos and sponsorship totals etc will follow later, till then, I think we all deserve a beer!

Cheers

Racing

Hills, Height and Mizzle and Stalking support

Firstly it is perhaps appropriate to report on our status, we are alive, there are minor niggles, O2 is absent without leave and therefore with the wonders of technology we blog by orange today, a little late and with fading memory of the clouds, the hills, the hills, and the stalker known as our support.

We awoke to the sun cracking the flags, a slight windchill and by the time full english had been devoured a smattering of cloud cover. An hours tinkering time was allowed under the rules and as such Captain C and the Creator rebuilt Captain Cs rear end and sorted his stiff links. Along with a number of other minor repairs to others. Lance helped manfully by polishing his to within an inch of it's life.

We departed under cloud filled sun and after a random circumnavigation of Penrith just to warm our bones we eventually climbed Fell Lane to stunning views towards the lakes from Beacon Edge.

For the first three quarters of an hour the peleton kept a tight formation as I took my customary position carrying the lantern rouge. Rolling roads helped us maintain a fast pace and we covered the first 9 miles rapidly. Small pockets of fellow C2Cers passed, joined and were passed particularly when Lance took offence at those young whippersnappers as we headed on to begin the first minor climb of the day to Hartside Cafe and lunch. Braving the steady climb we climbed the foothills and chose to pause momentarily for Shortlegs to breeze up to us, to keep us entertained Lily of the Valley did a stupendous impression of a falling log and bruised himself in certain uncomfortable areas.

We climbed at a steady pace as the mizzle began to fall, passing our portly friend from Whitehaven who as he strolled bike in hand was expounding wildly on the fact that if he had to walk all the way he wasn't bothered but he wasn't getting in the van.

Pies, Cornish pasties, and pots of builders later we emerged at 1903 ft to plough downwards in swift fashion through the rain.

Continuing towards to Garrigill on what appeared to be easy roads we sauntered merrily on. The three amigos from the elite breakaway had by this time made their decisive break for the day and Lance, GB and Lily were gone never to be seen again.

As we gathered in the foot of Garrigill we met the hill of the day which whilst gentle upon our elevation maps proved a tad more testing even when using the olympic uphill slalom techniques and granny ring.

Support was good and as we crawled upwards through the clouds for what seemed an age the sound of fading rockers kept us going.

A fast descent followed until once more hills arrived and the dead slow and stop speed returned. Shortlegs in a rare moment of lucidity had by this time breezed past and maintained his breakaway pace to the finish. He was of course helped by the random off roading of the Creator and strategically posed mountain top riding by Captain C.

Reaching the next to last climb of the day the team car radioed in that everything was downhill from here, to be honest I'd passed that stage many miles before. In truth there was a slight in accuracy as a further climb awaited us. As we cursed the team director my chain fell off in sympathy and disgust. Eventually we reached the final summit and flying down the hill came upon three women with hysterical faces and tears in there eyes pedalling madly, apparently Ian DK Brady had put the wind up them for the previous 15 miles by his strategic motivational parking, reassured they carried on, laughing to the point of hysteria.

As we shot into Allenheads as 3.55 showed on the clock the road train very nearly caught the Shortlegs breakaway but were beaten at the last.

A superb drying room which also converts sweaty odours into heat and a great lodge followed by a superb two on two game of football with Jacob helped us stretch those aches away.

Black sheep and the first sighting of horses to which Mr Motivator whispered along with good grub the rudest landlord in the world and the "children" giggling in the dorm to the sound of musical snores and other strange noises, have got us to breakfast on the last day.

Onwards to the Sea.

Racing

Name Change

Forgot the name change for now then vicar in all the excitement. It appears that he has a penchant for ladies talcum powder and as such henceforth shall be known as the Lily of the Valley. I have to say his response to this is slightly churlish and not really becoming of a man of the cloth!

Racing

Flats hills old coach road and now then vicar tries a new title.

So my friends you find me contemplating a pint of magners a fine italian and even some food. Tired after a day in the saddle we can reflect on a day which jokingly can be described as full of incident. 3 punctures two to the same shortlegged bike two falls one in a ford and one in the very last yard. A mangled chain that only runs on the 2nd ring samaritan calls and splits in the peleton all over the place!

To begin we gathered after split rotation full english and an age of final tinkering. We dived to the sea and joined the multitudes at the start took our ticket and in good order pushed in and asked lesley to record our leer and dip of the wheel. At 9.13 with much fanfare and trumpet call including from the rather portly chap riding for cancer research to get the beer in we rode. Shooting out of whitehaven at a speed way beyond our training rides we gathered a lycra group of ladies who were lost after 100yards and to prove how fit i wasnt i sprinted 3 yards to garner a photo forthe blog. Having continued at a rare old lick on good roads,I slowly worked my way back through the field after an age of meandering behind fat bottomed g

irls. To amuse us Shortlegs threw his water out of the pram. We flew through the forestry and began to meet the hills before a fantanstic descent. Shortlegs decided a haribo break was in order so arranged a puncture which was quickly sorted by laughing gas and thumbs of thunder. We now began to climb in earnest and ground our way upwards towards Whinlatter all except GB and Lance who swapped hair remedies whilst whistling at the front.

Lunch was served as we struck the cafe, watched the siskins swallows and osprey, and restocked from our erstwhile support. On we drove as we flew through the forest to the road and some towards keswick others for some reason cockermouth. Mistakes were remedied but not noted and shortlegs decided he now had loose bits where he shouldnt. We piled through keswick and began the treck to the stone circle and a date with the hell that is the old coach road. Having of course recalled the troops from the ease of the board walk route as they left the lantern rouge once again. Up we climbed walked pushed screamed swore as this world war 2 bombsite unfolded crossing the moors. In desperation bikes dissolved captain c's eating his chain and mr motivator and shortlegs needing those magic thumbs again. As the chill struck the elite riders had already made contact with support and met jacob the cat. The rest of us plodded gamely on and enjoyed the tricky fording of the stream where gb had fallen two hours earlier. With the days target honing into view we climbed for one final time before speeding through greystoke without stopping for tea with the apes.

As we rode we came to the aid of a bunch of ladies one of whom had left her bike in a very involuntary manner. The 3 elite athletes were at the b and b by then so paramedic help could not be given. Eventually we arrived at our destination only for captain c to lay on the ground having fallen from his steed with a whole yard to go. 58 ish miles of hard riding finished with a smile and a fab greeting from the landlady. tomorrow we meet the hills.

Racing

Evening Queries

There are a number of queries that have been raised as a result of this evenings festivities mainly 1. Are mankinis compulsory for c2c riding? 2. What is a poshet and how many taps are needed to keep a vicar happy wearing one? 3. What hour to depart - organised us what a great idea. 4. Has Pam the landlady really got a pair of twins for the night? And many other questions
Racing

(Dated Thur 29th april, posting delayed due to o2's dodgy service "oop north")

The Gathering!

We gathered for a change at Moose as the clock struck 12ish and after much strategic dismantling of bikes and checking in of baggage most of which was overweight and the kind of levels needed for a month, we packed Shortlegs in the kiddy seat surrounded by luggage and, leaving Now then vicar GB and support in said support vehicle, departed northwards for our starting point

.

As is our want we started with a round of eyespy and progressed towards the motorway at breakneck speed with bikes on roof and rear. Enjoying the jocularity of the wheels on the bus we headed north with discussions on lucidity marshmallows and a rather disturbing admission from The Creator on reducing chafeing. Upwards we shot viewing bikes from below as we travelled and showing we are a broad church had serious conversations about youth and drugs sheep and a field full of the biggest badgers you have ever seen. We passed through penrith with Captain C threatening to eject and meet up tomorrow. As he was driving we declined. Passing onwards through stunning countryside lakes and mountains we hammered our way into Whitehaven where we unloaded, support arrived and bikes where re adjoined. Now happily sat in the pub in the sunshine.

Tomorrow as the magnificent 8 we ride.

Racing