What I loved
Support
I have a tendency to underestimate the interest generated from followers of these events. After all, this is essentially a personal endeavour for me so why would anyone else be interested in where my dot is somewhere between Land’s End and John o’ Groats? I am therefore taken aback and hugely flattered to learn, often after the fact, that so many people from all areas in my life have been following my progress through sending encouragement and then later relaying congratulations. To anyone who had shown me support in any way, via any channel – thank you. I endeavour to respond to each, but this is often difficult during the event as my focus is primarily channelled on what I need to do to reach the finish. Each message helps me reach this goal though and provides me with an additional element of motivation, knowing that I am at least providing some form of entertainment to others!
I also experienced the relatively novel phenomenon of on the road interest from Dotwatchers, largely concentrated in the first half of the race. Throughout Cornwall and Devon in particular there were frequent cheers from the roadside and I became rather accustomed to passers-by taking a photograph of me – something I might be naturally averse to in ordinary circumstances! This quasi-celebrity status waned as the route entered less densely populated areas in the north and the field thinned out but I enjoyed the company of a couple of people on bicycles joining me for short periods. The brief distraction was very welcome and they understood not to offer any unsolicited assistance or outstay their welcome.
People/Community
Perhaps my fondest takeaway and memories from GBDURO will be the sense of community engendered through having the opportunity to spend time with fellow riders off the bike at checkpoints. A sense of comradery is common in most long-distance self-supported events as, although we are competing against one another, there is little to be gained from manifesting this competitiveness explicitly. Even more so when the clock is paused at checkpoints. This felt like it was turned up a notch at GBDURO, particularly as the stages progressed and we grew familiar with the personalities behind the pedalling figures. This was an occasion when a diverse group of people from varied backgrounds came together to tackle a challenge which was both competitive, but shared.
I existed within this GBDURO bubble where the primary concern was either reaching the next checkpoint in the most efficient way possible on the bike or preparing for the next stage effectively when at the checkpoint. The downtime spent with fellow riders was a key component of this decompression between stages. Everyone treated the magnitude of the challenge seriously but everything that could be done communally was done so. All mealtimes were taken in the company of others (there were a lot of meals) and recovery rides likewise. We were all riding the same route and encountering similar challenges, so a sense of shared accomplishment developed as the event progressed. Dragging myself away from this mindset and allowing ‘real world’ issues to seep in did take several days but I am sure that collective bond will endure.
Organisation
For an event run by volunteers and with an entry fee very much at the lower end one may encounter in similar events (£200), my expectations were surpassed. The format is relatively straightforward and was not overcomplicated. Once I had familiarised myself with the workings of my GPS tracker (self-supplied for this event), all I had to do was ride between the checkpoints. At the checkpoint I was overwhelmed by the generosity, enthusiasm and dedication of the volunteers. I have written about this in my Stage 3 report, but I would like to reiterate my heartfelt thanks to all who volunteered at the checkpoints. Receiving such a warm, understanding welcome after 30+ hours on the bike is hugely appreciated and being served up a seemingly endless supply of ideal nourishment massively aided in making the most of the limited recovery and refuelling process.
Additionally, a large thanks to The Racing Collective for their time and dedication put in to hosting the event. I’m sure they aren’t raking in huge profits (in fact, I’d be impressed if they break even given the aforementioned food & drink supplies) and their vision to put on an event which combines a competitive and challenging aspect with an environmental approach is laudable. Despite the ‘no-fly’ policy, riders made the journey from across Europe – demonstrating that alternatives to flying are viable options, even to the most distant points of mainland Britain. I am also fully signed up to the ‘Leave No Trace’ concept and having time penalties imposed for deviations certainly brought this to the forefront of minds. Whether time penalties will have the desired effect is another debate, as many of the incidents involved riders losing items they had no intention of parting with in the first place (see my water bottle on Stage 1), but I have no doubt that the focus on making this niche area of the sport more sustainable is a positive thing.
Format
All of the previous long-distance unsupported bikepacking races I have previously completed have comprised of one single stage i.e. the clock doesn’t stop until you reach the finish. GBDURO is (as far as I know) unique in this multiple-stage aspect and consequently added a whole new dimension to the experience as a participant. The community aspect I have mentioned separately, but the impact from a racing perspective was interesting. Going in, I envisaged the effort as being akin to riding four 600km Audaxes with one full day off between. Normally, it may take me the best part of a week to fully recover after a ride of that duration (around 24hr moving time, give or take) so I was prepared for fatigue to accumulate as the stages progressed, even with a full day of recovery. Having the first stage being the longest and climby-est helped from a mental-framing perspective to get the ‘hardest’ stage out of the way whilst most fresh but this also meant less recovery time ahead of Stage 2, which was certainly no picnic. Breaking down the full distance to these more digestible chunks aided with focus as each stage can be treated as it comes, in the knowledge that there will be time to prepare and reset mentally (and somewhat physically) without overwhelming time pressure ahead of the next. This equally applies to bike-related issues where it was sometimes preferable to wait until the checkpoint to address an issue or do some tweaking in a more relaxed fashion. The release of time pressure at checkpoints removes a lot of the stress that can build day after day in a single-stage event where you are conscious that every second you are not making forward progress is effectively lost time. A pressure valve is released once each stage is complete and this was evident through people’s spirits and apparent enjoyment of the event. There was a danger though that this could swing too far in the other direction – potentially causing a lack of focus on the rapidly looming next stage. I was conscious of not slipping in to this frame of mind and keeping focus on the tasks I needed to complete to prepare to go again (eating, sleeping, bike prep, kit organisation, route checking etc.) maintained a sense of momentum even during down-time. Plus, with all the chat about the travails of the previous stage and what still lay ahead being a common topic of conversation there was a constant reminder of what we were in the middle of.
My Performance
I find it bizarre that some people appear to take pride in announcing before an event that they haven’t done any training, research etc. and are essentially just ‘winging it’. So many things can go wrong which are outside of your control, so why not ensure that you are best prepared to control those you can. Perhaps it’s a form of sandbagging or getting excuses in early should things not turn out well. On reflection, I believe that I can attribute many of my (relatively modest) successes down to the time and effort I put in to preparation, whether that be physical, technical or logistical. I therefore have no qualms with admitting that I put a lot of time, effort and swear in to preparing for this race. Some elements I have reasonable experience in, such as riding 24+ hours through the night unassisted, but others, particular when it came to departing from tarmac, were less in my zone of comfort.
My training was structured through the winter and spring, with a general focus on building my threshold through key indoor interval sessions, allied with longer outdoor rides at the weekend. I followed a 3 week ‘on’, 1 week ‘off’ format. I didn’t start adding in longer weekend rides until May, conscious of the impact this would have on my freshness for the following week’s training and taking in to account my goal events took place later in the year in August/September. From May/June onwards, almost all my rides switched to taking place outdoors and generally on the bike I would be riding for the event. My training cycle compressed to 2 weeks ‘on’, 1 week (or a bit less) ‘off’, where I would schedule a long ride or weekend away before the ‘off’ week. I aimed to include scenarios I would encounter in the event during these longer rides such as hauling my full kit, riding through the night and pitching/packing up my tent before a 24 hour ride. The element I perhaps slightly neglected was practicing the mindset required for extended technical off-road sections. The reasons for this are mostly explained in the ‘what I didn’t love as much’ section.
During the race, I felt as if I recovered better between the stages than I may have expected given the relatively swift turn-around time. My physical condition was very rarely the limiter of my performance and I don’t recall ever nearing the ‘bonk’ or running short on food. There were a couple of stretches where re-supply was limited, mostly in Scotland and Wales, but my research in to availability of shops/cafes etc. and their opening times worked well with strategising food stops and being able to make adjustments en-route when circumstances demanded.
Set-up & Kit
Whether sitting on my bicycle and pedalling, walking with it across un-rideable terrain or hauling it over immovable obstacles, I found my set-up extremely comfortable, secure and (relatively) light. I must thank A Different Gear in Sheffield for their kind help in sourcing the frame and groupset bespoke to my requirements. Also, to Dave Gardner for the advice, build and the wheelset (@Sheafbikewheels) – his guidance and support is hugely appreciated. An outline of the bicycle and set-up is on the Dotwatcher site. There is a great sense of satisfaction to be had through carrying all one needs to subsist on a bicycle for such a voyage and I was largely delighted with how well everything held up (gear cable and water bottle excepted), particularly considering the stress it was under. The bicycle almost became an extension of my self by the time I reached John O’ Groats, everything has its place within its various bag, and I melded naturally with the saddle when seated and pedalling. The saddle I used, a snub-nosed ISM PL 1.1 (described in a jokingly condescending way by Christophe as a ‘triathlon saddle’!), worked wonders for me. In the past I have suffered, at times agonisingly in the immediate aftermath of long races, with pudendal nerve pain but this was eradicated through using this model. Perhaps helped by the variety of terrain, extended periods off the bike and constant changes in riding position, my undercarriage was the happiest it has ever been when riding this far.
The key point for me with my kit is that I believe I used every item of equipment I packed. The exception is the things I really didn’t want to have to use (e.g. spare tubes, sealant, chain links) but which I wouldn’t consider riding such an event without. I enjoyed having the sanctuary of my tent to retreat to at the checkpoints (Vango F10 Project Hydrogen). It was far from cheap but super light and packable – I see this as an investment item I will use again many more times in the future. The Restrap bags felt on the whole very secure and offered ideal storage space for my needs. There was some evidence of wear on the strap attachments by the end, but I wouldn’t have expected them to have emerged unscathed neither. As for clothing, I faced challenges at both ends of the temperature/dampness scale. The first two days had me wearing the bare minimum, with storage of spare kit maxed out within my bags. I am very fond of my Gore zip-off jersey with detachable sleeves (sadly now discontinued – please bring this back Gore) as a hugely versatile upper layer but its Windstopper fabric and heat-absorbing black hue may have been at its upper ranges of comfort in the 30°C+ temperatures. When thwacked by the relative chill of a Scottish summer night I always had an extra layer to resort to if needed, except perhaps for my feet when I managed to soak through three pairs of socks in one evening.
Macaroni Pie
Read my Stage 3 & 4 reports and you will understand exactly why.
What I didn’t love as much
Shlepping
I question how much I truly enjoy the hike-a-bike sections. I could convince myself at the time that tackling some of the more ‘extreme’ off-road sections on the route was all part of the challenge. I just had to keep moving forward via whatever means necessary and progress would eventually be made. But whether I would choose to devise or take on a route with so many disjointed elements (hike-a-bike, gates to open) is another question. Part of this may come down to my set-up and technical abilities, where there is much scope for improvement. At this moment in time though, I found myself much more in my element when on tarmac, even relishing the most challenging climbs such as Great Dun Fell as I was so confident that I could cope with the task without having to dismount.
My choice of gearing
Thankfully my bike and equipment was relatively lightweight as I believe I was the most under-geared rider on the start line. I ran a single 40t chainring and 11-42t cassette which I previously found to be a reasonable setup for day rides on most terrain, even when fully loaded. I could cope with any gradient on the road without having to dismount (save for one short section during the night on Stage 2 which I put down more to a gust of wind than gearing) but this wasn’t enough for the most challenging off-road sections the GBDURO route revels in throwing up. I can’t say for certain how many more gears would have been ideal as some of the times I was forced in to hike-a-biking was as much due to my lack of technical ability as gearing.
Velotoze
I agonised for a while about sock and oversock/shoe options. In the end I took three pairs of socks of various thickness/material. I also tardily purchased a pair of Velotoze MTB oversocks. They were a bit of a stab in the dark as I did not have the opportunity to try these out properly before the event, but they were very light and took up little space. They turned out to be a waste of time, space and money. I put them on during Stage 3 mainly to help keep my feet warm after a soaking and perhaps they helped in this manner somewhat, but the front end kept peeling up whenever I had to walk and I found them slippery on wet surfaces. My decision was made for me when at Rannoch Tearoom I ripped one when attempting to take it off. For some reason I put them back in my bag but they went in the bin at the end of that stage.
Gates
Especially locked ones, those with overly complicated/stiff opening mechanisms and seemingly pointless double ones.
Off-road descents
Largely attributable to my lack of technical ability and subsequently my confidence on the more demanding downslopes. This was another source of frustration as I was losing time to others not because I could not cope physically with the challenge, but because on occasions I could not even sit on my bike and let gravity do its thing. My crashes resulted from my haste to conclude off-road descents that I found uncomfortable and slow-going on my set-up. This is another area I am questioning whether I truly enjoy. There may be a reason I take no great interest in downhill cycling or attempting the more extreme terrain – I seem to derive more fulfilment from summiting a climb than descending the other side, whatever the surface.
Weather ‘extremes’
As to be expected during a British Summer, the weather can throw up anything. In advance, I had in mind that I could be facing temperature variations from 5°C to 25°C+. The heatwave during the first two days therefore posed an additional challenge that is hard to prepare for when much of my training takes place in the north of England. It was not particularly pleasant having to deal with with 30°C+ conditions and I found this most difficult on the first day when nausea set in, making ingesting solid food problematic.
It was also always going to rain at some point. On reflection, we may have gotten off lightly in this respect. The worst of the conditions for me occurred overnight on Stage 2 and the second half of Stage 3. There was persistent rain at times but never truly unbearable – attributable in part to effective clothing selection. Crucially though, I don’t recall any rain during the nights before, or mornings of, the stage starts, which I spent sleeping in my tent. Packing up a soaking tent and getting a drenching before the stage had even started would have been pretty grim so I am grateful that I was able to pack away my tent and prepare for the stage ahead in relative comfort.
Self supported – my two cents.
Two particular instances highlighted somewhat ‘grey areas’ in the interpretation of the principles of self-supported racing and engendered different responses amongst riders. This is just my viewpoint. It is not feasible for race manuals to cover all eventualities, so such matters are often a source of debate and discussion.
Firstly, at the summit of Great Dun Fell, before the road turned in to an indiscernible trail/bog, a Dotwatcher had left a box of brownies with a note stating that these were for GBDURO riders. I did not choose to take one. My reasoning being that this was an outside influence not consented via the organisers and there was no guarantee these would be available in equal quantity to every rider. For instance, even if there were 100 ‘goodies’ in the box, if I and the next 9 riders chose to take 10 each there would be none left for the rest (yes, yes this would also contravene the ‘don’t be a dick’ principle!). Above this though, if we start accepting this kind of interference from Dotwatchers, where does it stop. Is there truly a difference between this and roadside refreshment stations on every street corner? The counterargument that these are available to every rider forms a bit of a mockery of the unsupported principle. I am sure that the intentions of this Dotwatcher were nothing but sincere, but the clue should be in the name – Dotwatcher. Messages of support, roadside cheering and brief conversations are hugely appreciated but there is a fine line between this and unduly, unequally influencing the event.
My second qualm is around discussion sharing information about the route, particularly relating to re-supply opportunities in more remote areas. On this event the route was the same for each rider, but very little additional guidance or information was officially provided. I interpret this as an invitation for each participant to do their own research on the route so that they are familiar with what to expect, both in terms of terrain and provision options. At checkpoints, there was some open discussion about what the following stage entailed. In a broad sense, I don’t see this as an issue, but when it came to pointing out that there were x kilometres where nothing would be open for x number of hours, I found this a conversation I was not willing to contribute to.
I spent numerous hours in the build-up reviewing where there may be long stretches without the possibility of commercial re-supply and preparing route notes to this effect, along with profiles of each stage so I would know when to expect challenging climbs or long off-road segments. The information itself isn’t difficult to find and is freely available to all but requires time and effort to seek out. I therefore see this as a key part of preparing for self-supported events, as good knowledge of the route can play a large part in preventing getting stuck in the middle of nowhere having run out of food and water. Unless this information is provided by the race organiser to all participants, I choose to keep my research to myself. I view researching the route as part of the challenge of these events and can proffer a competitive advantage if done effectively.
Would I do it again - and should you do it?
As for me, not any time soon. This race was one serious challenge - physically, mentally and emotionally. I appreciated that during the event and I probably understand it even more now after my experience at TPRNo2 (more to come on that). At the time I had no issue motivating myself to push through the difficult moments, to persist with lugging my loaded bicycle up that impossibly steep (up or downhill!) rocky trail or to zip-up and keep the forward momentum during driving Scottish rain. Everybody in the race had to do the same and overcoming these obstacles was what I had signed up for. I had researched the route in reasonable detail and planned accordingly but most of the route was unknown and novel to me. I therefore embarked with some sense of naivety. My overall projections for speed/time were reasonably accurate but variations within each stage were vast. For example, in Stage 2 there were stretches of sustaining 25kph through the Cheshire Plains and hours on end of averaging less than <10kpm when traipsing along the Pennine Bridleway. Not knowing exactly what lay ahead helped in some circumstances. The sense of accomplishment and satisfaction for making it through the most challenging moments was worth it though. For that reason, plus the other hugely positive reflections I have on the event as a whole, I would highly recommend GBDURO to anyone with an interest in this style of challenge. Just carefully consider your choice of ‘gravel’ bike!
I would love to do an event with a multi-stage format again, but over a different route in another location (and with less hike-a-bike!). Maybe I could be capable of completing the route in a slightly faster time if I took it on again, learning from experience and making tweaks to my set-up accordingly, but the sense of novelty would be missing. My mindset might be hindered by dreading that upcoming hike and the pleasant surprises in terms of landscape blunted. This was an all-consuming and unique experience, made special by not the just the challenge of the event but the people I shared the way with or was kindly assisted by at the checkpoints. I thereby feel satisfied with cherishing the memories, taking away the positives and using the learnings to guide and develop my future plans.
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