Reviews

I think it is now a well worn route, but it was my first FFF500 and I thoroughly enjoyed. Wet damp miserable, but this is England in December after all. Not totally flat, but enough climbing to make it interesting. Wet all the way out to the first control at Farringdon, then dry to Winslow. Had an absolute blast to Cambridge via Oxford with a wicked tailwind by which time it was dark again. Onto St Ives via the bus way which is magical at night. Tailwind had become a cross wind and now a headwind. St Ives to Northampton for food and rest…Travelodge is an excellent on router stop. Up after a few hours to go through back lanes to Tewkesbury, fighting a strong head wind and more rain as the night receded. Then the challenge of the A38 all the way to Bristol, rain and strong winds…test your mettle. Then on via back roads back to Bristol and back to the start before it was dark. Really good challenge and nice welcome from Will and Pomeroy junior…recommended

Positives: Very well organised, clear route and instructions, manned controls had delicious food, volunteers all very friendly, second half of route on quite lanes

Negatives: The first half of the route is largely on A-roads, a tiny amount of dual carriageway, and some navigation of multi-lane roundabouts.

As this section is covered in the early hours of the day, there was very little traffic, so it was not a problem from a safety perspective. However, it was difficult to switch off my mind and relax, as I was constantly wary of the occasional car coming up behind too quickly. Being A-roads, there’s also very little to see — the scenery is largely monotonous — compared to cycling on B-roads or unclassified roads at night, where there’s frequently a landmark or wildlife to draw you attention.

I have to admit I did not check the route before taking part, so I am hardly in a position to complain.

One of Will’s best routes and there wasn’t even a 20%+ hill on the ride! Friday night starts for a 300km are a great idea as you get to finish in the light of the day on Saturday afternoon and still have over half of the weekend free. Aside from Will’s amazing commitment there were also a really great team of Moonraker helpers which made the whole event a real success. Definitely do this ride you won’t regret it. Two weeks after and I am still looking back on it as the best ride for me in 2022. Very lucky with the weather this year however :).

4th moonrakers & sunseekers for me, & the 1st dry one with excellent views of the moon & a brilliant sun rise, it was more like riding in April than November ?. A massive thanks to will & all his helpers on a truly magical night.

From: https://bgb2022.blogspot.com/

See for all the photos.

The challenge – to ride from Bristol, to Glasgow, and back again, in under 14 days, organised by the infamous Will Pomeroy aka “Wills Hills”. Garmin proudly announced there were 125 climbs on our route. I can assure you it was nearer 1,250….

The route also included a number of sections of “gravel” just for added pleasure.

Total route 1700km, with 27,000m of climb – about 3.5 times up Everest. At times it felt like riding up Everest would have been the easier option.

I started this event last year, sadly a quite spectacular and somewhat traumatic dose of food poisoning put and end to it three days in. The trauma also seemingly deleted my memory of just how fecking hard this event was, and the relentless need to keep moving forward no matter how bad the suffering gets, I started it this year with memories of mooching along the lanes singing tra la la la la.

I’d aimed to do the course in ten days.

Stage one: Bristol to Newtown: South Wales misery: 164km, 3,000m of ascent

Well, at least the 3km to the start line were easy… The legs were fresh, and unlike last years torrential rain it was a lovely day, a relaxed first couple of hours of cruising along, over the bridge and into….. the misery of riding in South Wales…. sharp Up, sharp down, around the corner, sharp up, sharp down, repeat all day. Was it really this hard last year???

Stage two: Newtown to Chester: North Wales bonus savagery: 137km, 2,700m – including Wayfarer

Audaxes are meant to be audacious. Some riders even had the audacity to finish the ride last year, so Wills Hills dutifully responded from changing it in his words from “Hard” to “HardMAX” and today a right treat was in store for us, new to this years course – Wayfarers – a 12km section of “gravel” that seemed to take about 17 hours to complete – just utterly battering the bike and the body. Walking most of it, riding tiny sections. Sense of humour was still intact but man-o-man what a day. Battered by the end of the day. All sense of tra de la de la now firmly lost.

Some lovely memories of parts of north wales that I’ve ridden in many times before, including some special memories around lake Vyrnwy.

I take lots of photos when I’m in a happy place. North Wales is always a happy place for me – today lots of photos were taken, including the gem of a track over Wayfarers…

Stage three: Chester to Bainbridge: The awkward third date: Yorkshire “Gravel…” 170km, 2,500m – including Cam High Rd

Through Manchester / Liverpool suburbia and out into Ribble, the spiritual father of my bike (A Ribble) and past the scene of last years crime – the guilty party being a fish sandwich at the Ribblehead inn. More deeply joyous “Gravel” today – the Cam High Road which I’d ridden last year – last year I was very new to gravel and this section smashed me to pieces. This year, with a bit more experience, it smashed me to pieces… (just a tiny bit less).

I always find the third day on any trip especially hard, the body simply isn’t used to the constant battering and today, well, it all got a bit too much for me – I needed a bit of a lie down and a cry in a field for a bit. Everything hurt, and fatigue was coursing through the body. Today the hoped for 10 day adventure became “10-ish days…”. Realistically 10 days was achievable, but would have been utterly miserable, and whilst I’m happy to have misery on the bike that’s not where my mindset was for this trip. 9/10 suffering was fine, 10/10 misery was not.

Stage 4: Bainbridge to Kielder: Anyone for an eye test? 135km, 2,700m of climb.

Through Barnard Castle and past the infamous Specsavers. Barnard Castle was also as far as I got last year before things became “quite spectacular” with my food poisioning – its also now into parts of the country less known to me – the very remote northern parts of England – truly special places with so few visitors. My legs have officially left me now. This is going to be one long tough trip, with a long long way to go yet.

Breakfast of champions

Stage 5: Kielder to Galloway: Wind scale 11/10 148km, 1,830m climb.

One of the hardest and in parts most dangerous days I’ve had on a bike – at best a constant block 25 to 30mph headwind down in the valleys, and then climbing over the passes was truly scary – being blown across the road. I’m no stranger to crosswinds, and I’m used to managing issues like this out in hills and mountains but this was proper scary – many many miles from anywhere, unable to ride safely, and not really able to even walk with the bike. For at least an hour or so I was considering this as ride-ending, it just wasn’t safe – but mercifully once the hill was crested there was a bit more shelter, and slow progress was made.

Into Scotland at the beginning of the day, seems to have taken forever to get here, and still a long long way to go.

Stage 6: Galloway to Glasgow: Please make the wind stop… 145km, 2,100m of climb

Through Kielder forest – on actual proper gravel! Properly remote now, just no-one around apart from the millions of birds, sheep and vast swathes of destruction from storm Arwen. Yet another death march to start the day today, battering on into the same headwind to the very remote Glentrool, the most westerly part of the route and a merciful 90 degree turn north bringing some respite from the relentless hard work, finishing the day in Glasgow, the turn point of the trip.

Stage 7: Glasgow to Carlisle: Progress! 180km, 1,400m of climb

A mercifully easier day, with little puffs of tailwind, flying all the way back into England. Still a long way to go on this trip but felt so good to make so much distance in one day, and nice to spin the legs out too.

Stage 8: Carlisle to Lancaster: And…. Hardknott 162km, 2700m of climb

Hardknott and its evil twin sister Wrynose strike fear into even experienced cyclists. Its just nasty, really really nasty, at the best of times. Despite several attempts on a racing bike with no weight on fresh legs I’ve never got up it without stopping / walking a bit – After 1,200km, and on a fully laden adventure bike, its well, never going to happen. It didn’t happen for me anyway – it did happen for someone I was riding with, and a few tears were shed at the top – a truly astonishing performance.

Stage 9: Lancaster to Bakewell: 158km, 3,400m climb

I do love Bowland, it’s a really special part of the country – as pretty as the Dales, Moors but never really visited by tourists, so lovely and quiet and peaceful. It is however a bit of a pain in the ass to cycle through – one of those places where you feel like you will never escape….

Today also had the added delight of yet more “gravel” – the utterly unrideable Salters pass, yet again what felt like several hours of walking and misery, battering the bike and body. At least the views were good though….

Still feeling a long way from home, a bit of a quiet soldering on type of day.

Stage 10: Bakewell to Mickleton: Are we nearly home yet? 162km, 1,700m climb

A hard and frustrating start to the day, trying to escape the Dales, before finally coming out into the flatlands. Contemplation was briefly had at the through of pressing on into the night and finishing inside the initial 10 day target – but whilst the mind said yes, the body firmly said no – so so incredibly tired now.

Stage 10 (ish) Mickleton to Bristol: Please no more misery…. 110km, 1,700m climb

Just the Cotswolds to go now, way harder than they should have been. The mind wanted to be back in Bristol but the hills were once again relentless, taking several hours before finally escaping. Annoyingly I finally rediscovered my legs today, they had been awol since day three, and decided to finally feel perky again a week later, and only 5 hours before the end….. And the end, along with added bonus Bristolian hipster unicyclist, finally arrived.

Pretty to look at. Less pretty to ride through with 1,600km in your legs.

It was a truly wonderful adventure, full of animals, birds, remoteness, peace, block headwinds, savage “gravel”, special people, and Wills Hills whisky and pizza at the end. I’m truly deeply content with having done this as a 9/10 adventure rather than 10/10 misery – and I’m very tempted to do the more aggressive 7 day version of this next year. Humbling also is Andy, who went round the course in 5 days. Yes, half my time. And I ain’t no slouch…

Until next time – much love xx.

Alex suggested I join him on this ride in August 2021. He’d really enjoyed it before and said it was incredibly well organised and very popular.

We pulled into Bristol early. The kick-off was at 9 pm and we spent the spare couple of hours scoping out pizza and snacks in a nearby shopping mall before parking up near the Felix Road community centre on the edge of Bristol. This was the perfect venue for the crowd of 185 odd riders, with bikes and clobber, to get ready and sorted before heading out into the night. The atmosphere was buzzing, tea was flowing, snacks were disappearing, lights twinkled, weather was behaving and the chatter was engaging. I was incredibly impressed with the fact that soya milk and dairy free cakes were provided for plant munchers like me. We changed and readied ourselves for the upcoming ride.

Should I or shouldn’t I wear overshoes? That was the question. Alex was in hysterics. One minute they were on, the next off, then on again. I must have been very high maintenance. Overshoes or no overshoes?… Without the expert guidance from those around me, I would still be there stuck in an infinite loop.

We set off in timed waves according to how fast people planned to ride, fastest first. All the different cycling types were lined up, from young to old, seasoned to first timers as well as a smattering of endurance and ex pro cycling luminaries. When it was our group’s turn, we were let loose into the wild..

The group sort of stayed together rolling out of bustling Bristol through Bath heading onto clearer roads towards Devizes and our first control point, the Moonrakers pub. It was now around midnight. Many had made it to the welcoming glow of the bar, with lots of good things on offer: beer, wine, bar snacks, a bathroom to freshen up and a comfy chair. I didn’t delay in taking advantage. Worthy of note was the sweet snacks provided. Sweet, delicious, full of flavour… and importantly energy. We loitered a while, chatting to others learning tales about moonraking, what it was and how it came to be. Very enjoyable.

We left the colourfully lit rest stop and headed south towards the coast in a mild 8 deg C temp and light drizzle just a little after midnight. We probably slightly overcooked the pace earlier, which would come back to haunt us a bit later on. Alex and I found the wide open roads mostly to ourselves as we glided on to the next stop in Salisbury. I love catching up with others on the road, and was treated to stories by a girl who had done big miles in far flung countries like Columbia. #LivingTheDream… At around 2:30 am we arrived at a Gazebo, beside a junction before Salisbury next to an undertaker named “Just Cremation”. I know, right? More great food was laid on, we filled our bottles and chatted whilst having a moment. The peace was comically shattered by my iPhone reading out the ride notes randomly and very loudly. I think I’m the only person left in the world doing long rides whilst attempting turn by turn directions on an iPhone strapped to my handlebars ?.

The next leg, along the Eastern edge of the New Forest, through Ringwood and down to the coast via Christchurch was on straighter, flatter, and for some, less inspiring roads. On the other hand, for me it was a journey down memory lane. You see, this is where I spent a large part of my early life. I used to cycle on many of these roads as a teen racer. We went by a farmhouse near Fordingbridge where I used to practise in a band with my best mate, who ended up playing bass for Emerson Lake & Palmer – playing bass for a hugely famous bass-player?? It’s a weird World… His dad, Bill, had a trout farm on the land as well as a few cows, chickens and other animals. Bill also had a rottweiler, who he taught me to be very respectful of. Typical of country folk, the whole family loved the animals they bred, letting them wander in and out of the house at will. You would even find the cows poking their heads through the kitchen door. In my mind I felt they came into the house, but that’s probably a juvenile fantasy. They were my surrogate second family and I have never forgotten the kindness and love they showed me. Whether it was the tiredness or the trick of time, I didn’t manage to spot the gravel path leading to the farm from the road as we sailed by my friend’s old place.

We managed to hook up with a brisk flowing group and sailed through Ringwood at a lick. Such familiar territory. It would be quite a few miles before we came across roads new to me. We hung a left after Ringwood into the lesser known lanes that lead to Burley. I went to a boys school not far from here. We sailed past the Three Tuns pub, where the family had a meal before I moved away. This was an old training route. I knew every nook and cranny of that road.

The group was still together as we popped out on the A35, by The Cat & Fiddle at Hinton, the oldest pub in England. It’s smack bang at the end of the road where I used to live. I worked here as a barman, illegally, aged 14. It was also a rock venue back in the day and I did my first ever gig as a guitarist for an unknown band, who were supporting a famous band of the time called Dave, Dee, Dozy, Mick & Tich. That’s a mouthful…. Check out their hit single “Snoopy Vs The Red Dragon”! haha, Lol. I digress…

Carrying on past the pub towards Christchurch, we passed the spot where I did the regular weekly 10s in the Bournemouth Arrows. We swooped down past the roundabout, where I used to pick up the draft of the school bus on the dual carriageway. I would often hit speeds of 50-55 mph. Live young, die fast. On through Christchurch and over the stone bridges in view of Christchurch Castle, past what once was Tucktonia, a model village attraction, out towards Hengistbury Head, up the hill, onto the coastal road and our first sight of the sea. We followed that shore road along until it led to the boulevard at Boscombe and took to the cycle path along the beach. The sun was rising. We had ridden through the night. It was early. There was nobody around. No swimmers, sunbathers, kids or sandcastles. It was a little damp and late in the year. The group was still pretty much together as we passed Bournemouth Pier and the ‘Chines’ towards Sandbanks, where we left the beach path, joined the road and headed through Lilliput.

We were expecting the all important breakfast stop control point. With a deficit of 8 to 10 thousand calories for the ride, this was essential. The venue was a little off the beaten track just before the cycle path through Baiter towards Poole Quay. It was a sailing club venue – I think – on the waterfront hidden among the expensive yachts. We’d made good time in the group and were reluctant to let it go. For whatever reason – maybe the hive mind effect – the bunch simply sailed on by and completely missed the path. I knew it was somewhere around here. I figured it was just before or actually in Poole. I wasn’t wrong but, being unsure, I didn’t speak up until we were well on our way to Lytchett Matravers. Eventually, I called it, later than I should’ve. I shouted to Alex to hang on and we let the group ride away. I told him I felt we’d screwed up. We dug around on our phones, realised our mistake and turned back, through Poole Quay and Baiter back to the breakfast stop. Annoyed but grateful, we settled down to an amazing breakfast and a bit of well earned recuperation.

The place was jumping. The food was great. The facilities; more than you could have hoped for. Lots of riders were enjoying a cooked breakfast. Again, there were vegan options for people like me. Vegan sausages, beans, toast, jam, tea and cereal. Nom nom. A fly on the wall would’ve seen a few weary faces – unsurprisingly. There were people chilling and getting rest, there were others milling around dealing with mechanicals. On a trip to the loo, I found some people struggling with a tubeless tyre that had failed them, with tubeless sealant getting absolutely everywhere. I felt sorry for them, though I noticed they got it all sorted before Alex and I set off again.

Bellies filled, noses powdered and cards stamped we headed off into the breaking day retracing the steps we had already ridden for a short distance earlier, to make our way from the coast back in the vague direction of Bristol.

This time we managed to make it past Lytchett Matravers and continued through the lanes in a northwesterly direction towards Stern Abbot. We’d swapped from the fairly open main roads on the way to the coast to the country lanes. We rode through the incredibly picturesque villages you find in Dorset, interspersed by beautiful rolling vistas. We passed through lots of places with the pre-name of Winterbourne, Winterbourne this, Winterbourne that, we went past the stunning Milton Abbey with its World famous school close by and on through the morning towards Sherbourne and to the Podimore control.

It was nudging into the latter part of the morning as we left Podimore toward Glastonbury. I hadn’t cycled these parts before; there were long, very straight, quite narrow, Roman-like roads with dykes and ditches on either side. Like something you might find in Holland. You could see for miles in all directions across the plains and wetlands. This was the ‘Somerset Levels’; stretching from the Mendips to the Blackdown Hills. Apparently they are among the lowest and flattest areas of the UK. After Cheddar, we found ourselves back among more familiar countryside.

Next was the section of abandoned railway, repurposed as a bridleway / bike path, known as The Strawberry Line, which led back to Bristol. Some had chosen their bikes accordingly and were riding gravel bikes with chunky tan-walled tyres, specifically for this section and the beach section earlier. We were struggling to find the route and were lucky to spot the wheel of Emily Chappell, a seasoned ultra endurance cyclist, who was obviously far better than Alex and I at navigation. I’d ridden with Emily a couple of times previously, although I suspect that she didn’t remember. Anyhooo… we’d been crossing wheels, so to speak, several times with Emily and her friend since Poole and were thankful for her expertly helping us find the railway path. Sometime later, we saw her by the roadside fixing a puncture. Not having used tubeless tyres before and wondering if I could be of any help, I called out “Are you OK? Is it tubeless?”, to which Emily called back “I’m fine thanks”, or something similar. My thinking was; if she was running a tubeless set up, I would have been of little help. By the tone of her response she was thinking something along the lines of, “what an ignorant mansplaining neanderthal, just ’cause I’m a woman you think I need help?” TBH, it was a pretty dumb, ill considered, throw away comment – all be it well intended. The whole interaction took mere seconds but tickled Alex so much I think it spurred him on for the rest of the ride.

The final control point before Bristol was the Strawberry Line Cafe that sits on the old railway station not long before the path spits you out into the outskirts of Bristol. We hadn’t been there long before Emily rolled up and I dug myself in deeper with another stupid comment along the lines of “Did you manage OK?”, which, as she was standing there, was a vacuous question to say the least. #Awkward. Oh to be me! Lol. Poor Emily. Such is the effect of riding your bike a silly amount of miles overnight without sleep. Both Alex and I had been suffering over the last section but we were nearing the end and had a sense that nothing could stop us from completing.

We set off on the final section back through bustling Bristol outskirts. Alex could smell blood and got a boost of energy that would make the most rested energised. He went for it hell-for-leather through the traffic and lanes, under bridges and junctions. It was sketchy trying to keep up with him as he was gunning it like a speedway racer. It stands to reason that well before you could read this pile of dirge, we were back where we started and were tucking into a welcome nosebag of delicious vegetable curry and rice all laid on by the fabulous Will Pomeroy and Audax Club Bristol. A huge thanks to them for an exceptionally well organised event. I can’t recommend this ride highly enough.

If you are thinking of doing it on the back of our adventure, bear in mind we had mild, slightly damp conditions that night, which made it manageable. Be warned!

Organisationally top notch, and an absolutely splendid route.

Fantastic route with low traffic volumes, beautiful scenery and quirky features. I hated the gravel to begin with but then just embraced it and now I want more! Difficult experience to beat

What an amazing route, well done! We had a great day, a few accidental detours and one much needed late lunch. Awesome mixture of on and off road. Thank you for taking the time to plotting this route – Fantastic!

Just the right balance of terrain and good on/off road splits, normal back lane bias for GWR rides with pretty car free route all round. Introduced to some “right on the doorstep” gravel and trails that will defo use again. Bishop Cleeve & Sudeley climbs are right on par for “Wills hills” and wont disappoint.