Having ridden every edition of the Cumberland Challenge, and as a fully fledged member of Border City Wheelers, there was a certain feeling of responsibility when it came to entering for this year's event. Entries opened many moons ago, and the die-hards were all queueing up to try for one of the coveted single-digit entry numbers. Paul and I were lucky enough to secure numbers 008 and 009, an honour indeed.
Training for this year's event really came as a by-product of having prepared for the Etape du Tour, and the various other sportive rides I have continued to sample. The latest, the Ken Laidlaw sportive, based in Hawick, was only a week ago and, at a similar distance was the perfect final warm-up ride.
Sunday dawned grey and overcast, shades of last year all over again. What is it about the Cumberland Challenge and weather? By the time we arrived in Brampton, at event HQ, the drizzle was gently persistent. But there was little wind, a result. As we lined up on the start line, ready for the off, a certain excitement and anticipation gripped us. Paul and I had set ourselves a target, to complete in under 7 hours. At 18, Paul was one of the youngest competitors last year, and had completed in a very tired 8 hours plus. Stronger and wiser this year, he felt up for it. So did I, and after my puncture-hit time of 7 hours 26 last year, the idea of bettering 7 hours seemed realistic.
Our 'team' of Paul, Karen, Chris, John, Dave and myself gathered on the start line just before 8am, the atmosphere optimistic despite the weather. Our transponders were dibbed and we were off. Groups of 20 or so riders were started at 2 minute intervals to reduce congestion, and our gaggle of riders headed out through Brampton on the undulating early miles toward Castle Carrock, It was here, just 5 miles in, that our international visitor, Pyractif Chris, suffered a terminal tyre-wall explosion which brought him to an abrupt standstill. The others in our group rolled on, their parting words were "are you ok to catch us up?" It wasn't a question!!
Having thought it would be a simple puncture, Chris's expression gave it away as he discovered the state of the tyre. I put him ion touch with one of the organisers in the hope that he would be able to get some assistance and get back underway - it's a long way to come from the Pyrenees for a mere 5 mile bike ride, after all. By now 3 minutes had ebbed away and I was anxious to continue as I would have to chase down our group on my own.
By the time we had climbed the horrifically steep Armathwaite hillclimb and recuperated, I was back with the others. As we started on Hartside, the day's big climb, Paul was looking strong and so he and I decided to crack on. By now the drizzle and cloud was beginning to give way and there were signs of the yellow sky disk. Those who had scoffed when I applied the sunblock earlier that morning were not so scornful now. As we rounded the last hairpin Paul pulled past me, this was the one hill he wouldn't let me win. I was out of the saddle for one last push but he saw it coming and waltzed away, casual as you like. He's a ratbag like that!
For a change, we actually rode over the 1903ft summit NOT in cloud. No wind either. Surely this wasn't right. We must have the wrong event. But no, the crowds were there too, cheering riders on. Now came the long enjoyable descent into Alston, some 5 miles of joyous downhill. And all too soon it turns into bum-jolting cobbles as we struggled up through the market place. Paul craftily hit upon the idea of riding the kerbstones at the road edge, much smoother and faster. The cobbles in the centre of the road felt like Paris-Roubaix with attitude. On a 20% hill they are NOT fun.
At Garrigill we arrived at the first checkpoint. Willing helpers blocked the road, anxious to dib our transponders as fast as possible and get us back on our way. Within 200 metres we were climbing - again. This time it is another nasty 20% climb out on to the moors and back to Alston. The legs are feeling it now after Hartside. From here back to Brampton it has traditionally been a stiff headwind which makes progress painful. This year, the section from Garrigill to Brampton, some 26 miles or so, was our fastest of the whole ride at a smidge under 20mph average. Shortly after Alston we picked up a small group which began to work together, albeit a bit ragged at times. Then Paul's bidon jumped off the bike. Oh no, we lost the group. We were fortunate as another, faster group came by and we jumped on the back and soon got back. Phew. Next stop, Brampton and the first feed.
Brampton feed is always full of interest. Set up in the market place, the location is ideal. With a host of onlookers enjoying the spectacle and more willing volunteers dibbing, bringing food and refilling bottles, the atmosphere is great. Paul was nabbed by Carlisle's Lady Mayor and told his story. She was impressed by his ambition and wished him well. Mike Glaister wore a permanent look of worry as he marshalled his troops
The second half of the ride is, to my mind, tougher. No big hills, but a constant undulating course with short steep climbs which drains the energy and saps the legs. Shortly after Brampton, the rain returned, with a vengeance. It never left us thereafter. Then Bewcastle rears its slimy slopes, with the drizzle combining with a copious amount of muck to make the ascent slippery to say the least. The descent is even more so, positively dicey and time to take it easy. Then it is north through Kershope and into Scotland (briefly). Here Paul was by now flagging on the inclines and after a while he dropped back as I rode on. I hoped he would get back on once we were through Kershope and onto the easier roads down to Nicholforest and the second feed.
By the time I got to the feed, the clock was approaching 6 hours, just 1 hour remained to beat my target. It is 18 miles to the finish, and laughingly they tell me it is downhill all the way. They lie!! Some 40 seconds after arriving at the feed, Paul rolled in amongst a big group. He had managed to latch on as they came by and he was right back in the mix. Good lad.
Now the chips were down. I knew we needed to get in a group and pretty soon we were doing just that. The speed picked up, despite the tiring legs. Paul began to drift off the back occasionally but kept plugging away. With 10 miles to go our group had grown, and there were three of us on the front doing the work. The others were, I guess, jiggered. The last few miles were interminable, along the Brampton road from Longtown. The road surface has potholes which would swallow a bus which made were not always easy to avoid. Our speed crept up, reaching a useful 23-24 mph. With 2 miles to go Paul, who had been with a similar group, managed to get back on and we were able to ride the last stretch together. The route is cruel, having a long uphill drag to the finish which is the last straw for legs which, by now, really don't want to do any more. But at last, the end is in sight and we crept over the finish line and one last dib. Paul collapsed as exhaustion took over. I have to say I savoured the moment. We had clocked 6 hours 51 minutes, comfortably inside our target time. Job done!
All that remained now was to hand in our transponders and get our caps and certificates. Then food and drink. And rest. And the inquest of course, as riders continue to come in. Sitting round after, dissecting the highs and lows, the punctures, the mechanicals and the sheer joy of finishing is one of the pleasures of the event. Dave crossed the line and looked awful - "I will never ride the Cumberland Challenge again" he told me. He said that last year! Perhaps that's what makes it such a great event.
As a footnote, both Karen and Dave also recorded new personal best times for the event. And it is worth recording that Pyractif Chris was able to get a ride. One of the event photographers kindly ran him back to Brampton where Mike of Palace Cycles got him sorted and back on the road. Although he lost a significant amount of time he rode and completed the event. And enjoyed it!