Web log created by the Foyle Cycling Club. The club aims to promote safe cycling in the North West of Ireland.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Tour Of Ireland
This blog covers the Tour Of Ireland from the FCC or Foyle Express [as they became known during the event]
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Anonymous
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Well Lads as I said all along my intention had been to ENJOY, COMPLETE and if Possible lead a group into Galway with a Garda escort on the Sat afternoon. I Got all 3.
Thursday ( travelling up) Got off to a bad start when I missed the train from my local station and had to head to Athenry to connect with the Galway train instead. Was already getting funny looks re the bike bag. Get across Dublin on the tram type trains and board the Belfast train, to be told that due to a security alert we will be bused part of the way. The NI rail guys were great and made sure Bike was safely placed on bus. Then local train to Lisburn. Was one of the early arrivals. As the bodies started to arrive it was obvious this was no ordinary bunch of cyclist. Every shape and size they may have been but if you were looking for anything other than lean meat you would have had a very hard time finding it.
And as for the bikes every make and model was there to be seen. While talking to Guys when putting the bikes together and eating the meal it was obvious everyone was unsure of what the next 4 days would bring no matter at what level they rode. At this stage Introduced myself to Mark Was on my own that night in Belfast hotel and slept fitfully.
Friday. Lisburn to Cavan 115 mls(aim to keep an average speed of 16mph)Met Peter V and Chris while waiting for bus after breakfast You could feel the tension on the bus and it was almost touchable when we got to the Sports complex. Weather had taken a turn and so it was a day for the rain gear. Still think I looked the part in my Westernlakescc gear We got stocked up on Drinks, bars and bananas and we set off for the 1km roll to the start. As usual I was out the back actually feeling quite nervous .Got caught on the hop really when we set off and had to work hard to get up to a bunch and it took me a while to get myself comfortable. The names of all the climbs were a blur to me at the time but I did find myself grapping Peters wheel as we approached Drumree Hill and thanks to the man above for that . (now I thought we had hills over here ,they are only pimples)I am not the greatest decender in the world(wet roads!!!!)but with being able to see Peter on the road in front of me I hit 42.8mph on this decent and started up the climb to Spelga dam where P bounced away we were now catching others so going over the top I atleast was not alone. I did seem to be holding my average but was very happy to get to the feed station as I had dropped 1 of my bottles and was feeling a little weak. Here I made a big mistake!. I arrived just as the big group was readying itself to leave.Some of the lads encouraged me to join on and I dithered for a few minutes and by the time I got back out on to the road I was 200m down and I should have stopped and waited for the bunch of riders which had just turned in to the stop. I didn’t I chased up the road and was getting within touching distance but missed a set of lights in Rostrevor and had to stop. I was on my own thru Warrenpoint and Newry. Little didI know what Slieve Gullion had in store for me. For the next leg I was keeping myself sane pretending to be the lone break instead of the lone chaser. What a climb(would love to see the views in good weather) but I did crack it but was seeing stars , going over the top. 1 of the MB lads told me as he passed there was a group about a mile back and I reckoned with my slow descent(surface was SH*T) they would catch me b4 the next stop. This they did as we arrived just b4 Creggan and I tagged on to the FOYLE EXPRESS.I had covered 32mls on my own Foyle CC members Mark , Nigel, Donald and Tony were leading a group which worked on the principle that Mark rang The Bell every 2 mins and the outside line rolled up and over.(If you did your bit you were welcome aboard if not you were back on your own if you had a problem). I struggled to hang on thru Crossmaglen but got 2 the Feedstation at Ballybay (90mls) just a few 100 yards down. The soup and sandwiches were a blessing. Set off with them after we had restocked up with supplies and this time was able to do my bit. Not sure how many or who everyone was at this stage but Lads you saved my bacon. With everyone taking their turn we rolled on nicely over the border and got picked up by a MB as we were now a sizeable group. We sailed on to Cootehill and getting ever closer to Cavan the speeds increased.We cruised into Cavan a happy bunch (no sprint finish as it was all for 1 and 1 for all).As we headed for the Sports Centre nobody had told me about the F***ing hill.Started to wobble as the adrenalin drained from my body and I keeled over.A big thanks to Kelloggs Paul O’C for lifting me up and holding me steady as my legs were gone. Ate like a horse that evening and even went to Tesco for apples and juice and flapjacks to pile in more. Added a pint of Guinness to my rehydration prog and was in bed asleep by 9.30. My speedo showed a 15.8mph average
Day 2 Cavan to Galway 124 miles Woke feeling a lot better than I expected . Breakfast was a bit of a mess as there were only 2 staff on duty so it was abit hit or miss if you wanted anything more than cereal. Then the bus seemed to take its time. But all was well and we set off in what could be described as typical dull grey expect all types of weather sky above our heads.It remained dry all day. This time I made sure I was not 2 far back in the group and as we sailed out of town I was able to bridge the gaps that were beginning to appear. Recognised Cambridge Mark and Eddie(really a Dub) and Kellogs Paul from day 1 and sailed along at the back of the big bunch at a great rate for about 20 miles b4 the gaps began to reappear all through the peloton(sounds good).For the next 34 mls we worked together and caught a few more bodies and as we got to Strokestown Feed stop we had about 20 rider latched on. Just as we sat down the Foyle 4 arrived with about 10 more so we took the extra minutes and the Express was reformed for the remainder of Day 2.This was regarded as the flat stage but this what we call Drumlin Country here so the roads go up and down and around the rolling hills which can take its toll. 10 miles in we sucked in Charlie and Margret (serpentine) and so the gang was now was up on 36. At this stage we were flying along and every1 was doing there bit so with your stints at the front only coming every hour it was a free ride really. But the banter was good and we were an international bunch by now. Charlie explained about his bike problems on day 1 and was riding the only bike he could get his hands on in Newry. Austen was already expressing amazement with how well he was going. We crossed the main Dublin /Roscommon road and we were entering country I know real well after about 70 miles and approached the 2 climbs of the day. We were having a good day(no punctures and nobody suffering much) and we kept it together to the feedstop where we picked up a MB who was to lead us home.With just over 30 to go you could feel the pace pick up as the steady pace left everyone with decent legs left. Have to admit I was chomping at the bit. The stronger riders were skipping across the lines when gaps appeared and the pace had moved up to 20mph by the time we hit Menlough. We were now on a straight run for Galway and I was able to give the mile for mile description as I drive this everyday at work. In Monivea we picked up a 2nd MB and my wish for the stage end was looking better. We were now hitting 23/24mph at the front(Bell was ringing every 1 minute) and as we got to Carnmore Cross we were waved thru by a Garda and got onto the smooth tarmac of Galways outer roads. I led the gang thru the first of the 5 roundabouts which are the bane of my life as a van Driver. We had a hairy moment at the Tuam rd O as a driver on the outside lane cut across for the 1st exit.But all was good as we sailed down the hill on the ring road now with a Garda Bike in front as well. The dream was now coming good. The MB guys are amazing.I was the 3rd man on the outside line when we went thru the Headford rdO and a path was opening up b4 us(just to explain the next 400m is between to shopping centres and can take 10min to cover at 4pm on a Sat afternoon).We hit the now infamous BODKIN O 5 exits and all light controlled outside my work place.its blocked up with traffic and the lads in front follow the arrows that are for Sunday morning .I shout at them as I sail straight on but this was my home stage and I know Galway drivers (they would close the gap very quickly) so I kick on. Here a roar of COME on WESTERNLAKES as people start clapping and cheering as we pass the Town hall and cross the bridge in front of the Cathedral and around the bend b4 turning for the finish in NUIG To all the lads who did not try to chase me down a BIG THANKS I had lived the DREAM. Roomed with Big Charlie that nite and enjoyed use of the Leisure facilities b4 a few pints and again hit the bed at 9.30.To quote Charlie ‘That was a Cracking good DAY’ I am forgetting name so I apologise to anyone who is not mentioned but describing your Jerseys would take up alot of Space
Day 3 A Day to Pay (suffering in the Hills) Once again I woke feeling a lot fresher than I ever felt I would and the atmosphere a Breakfast was one of enthusiastic apprehension re the long stage ahead. It was funny to see people trying to work out the Irish weather looking up at the sky at 7am having seen the forcast the nite b4. I did try to explain that our forcasters speak in code that we learn very early on in life. They cover their asses by mentioning everything. The Foyle Express was now a fully recognised group and we gathered up very quickly. The groups were being let off in reverse order so we left Galway 2nd with what was to be 20 min lead over the main bunch. After a little detour because I followed the original markings that were the ones that caused the problem on out way in (and had been on the road when I left work on the Wednesday) we got the Crew working. By now all the usual suspects were on board plus a few more about 24 in total. About 2 miles out of Oranmore we had our first puncture (Now up to this we had been very lucky and as a rule we would stop so no one was being dropped when they had a mechanical, this was what made this group special. All for 1 and 1 for All)Today as it was a long spin I opted to stay and assist in the ride back so the Express could keep moving. The main bunch sailed by just as the Backup team got to us and supplied a wheel change and then it was sit in behind the Broomwagon at 26 mph to get back up. That was fun though the legs felt it. For me the proof that the Foyle Express was now more than just a bunch of cyclists who just happened to be thrown together by the tour happened after about 40 miles. Going over the rolling ridge in the Cappaghaban Mountains Charlie dropped his Sunglasses and stopped to get them. The head of the Gang never heard the shout and sailed on. Foyle’s Nigel , Cambridge Mark and I did so we slowed. Mark and I were a little up in front of the other 2. Now Charlie is about 6’6” and built to match, Nigel would be best described as a built to be a Jockey so when they appeared around the corner absolutely powering along with Charlie on Nigel’s wheel you knew we were now fully fledged team-mates. Mark and I got rolling and took up TTT mode. It took about a mile to catch up but we were hitting 28 mph on the changeovers and it felt great to be able to do it. We were all glad to reach the feedstop. Here we lost Charlie as his replacement bike was now causing back spasms and with the possibility of having his own bike back on the road for Day4 he felt it was the best option. Having him there fully of encouragement at the stops later in the day was an added bonus as I personally was to miss him on the climbs later when I was suffering. With the sun now coming out, we were seeing Ireland at its best. I was proud to be there to hear peoples reaction to the scenery as we looked down on Lough Derg and the Shannon . We were cheeky when crossing the Shannon as we went across against the Traffic on the one lane bridge. From here I started to suffer badly. I managed the first 2 climbs but hit the first of the big ones far to hard and started to cramp up . (Looking back I had not followed the same refueling in Galway as I had in Cavan and was paying the price) also these climbs were the steepest I have ever met and after 3 days I should have known better. I just could not stand up in the pedals and had to stop 3 times on this and the next one b4 the feed stop. Filled up with supplies and then came down the hairiest descent ever. Narrow roads with grass up the middle, pine needles on each side and switch back turns that seem to be vertical. Watching lads who were flying down earlier coming almost to a stop as they took these turns was adding to my nerves. Slowly but surely I was getting further behind and was loosing site of the group on the rolling hills. So after stuffing myself again with gels and a Banana decided to go for broke as I knew we had nearly 50 miles left and I was better to try and get back as the lads would have a pitstop at some stage and I it would give me a chance. Don’t know where the power came from but I found reserves somewhere and caught Martin who said the gang were not really that far in front so we pushed on and thankfully nature had called and the group were just remounting on the road after 3 more miles. By now I was legless and when one of the guy that was picked up from another group slowed to ask me about his friend further back I clipped his wheel and just wobbled into the verge and fell over. Irish roads are rough and although my fall was very much a slow motion drop I split my knee. Now it was only a scratch but I tend to bleed well and so after about 5 mins my leg was a river of red. It looked GREAT. I sat at the back for the next few miles and was glad to get to Templemore for the stop. Washed the leg but only succeeded to reopen it. We were still about 40 miles from finish and now the group was bigger than ever with new bodies having been picked up along the way. This meant I was not hitting the front to often so I was able to get my legs back. And so when we crossed the main Dublin/Cork rd in Johnstown with just over 20miles to go and the pace upped I was ok. Mark started to ring the bell every min from 10 miles out and the power was flowing thru the bunch. But it became obvious that some of the riders we had caught were not pulling their weight. ( The glory of the Main Street Kilkenny finish was calling.) Boy do I hate when That Happens. I know these roads as I spent some great years here in my younger days and so it was pay back to the lads of the Foyle Express for my dream coming thru the day b4.I was willing to die so no TAGGER would win the day. You could feel it in the group as the pride swelled and we kept the pace upped and everyone closed the gaps and anyone with strength left moved up to keep it going. Again as we hit the outskirts of the city we had the MB guys appear to lead the way. As we dropped down a hill one rider made a break for it and all hell broke loose I have never ridden as hard thru traffic trying with some of the others to claw him back(to those who have followed my Blog I had definitely found my competitive Spirit) The City was very busy and the streets are narrow so we had only just enough room for the bike to fit thru and as we came to the last set of lights we had to STOP. Then when they went green a TAGGER was first away and despite our best efforts we could not catch him up the last 200m on the hill. Still it was another great day and after putting the bike away I was delighted to be able to walk the 100m to the hotel and shower and eat well.Was absolutely wrecked but delighted to have got this far. Now it was just a matter of surviving to the finish Roomed with Dave from Northumberland that nite who was back for year 2 and found his comparisons interesting Went to bed after a pint at 9pm and was out cold very quickly.
Kilkenny to Dublin 123mls plus 10 detour And now the End is only 130mls away J Although I fell asleep early I was waking every 1/2hour from 2 and so was out of bed and sitting at Breakfast at 6am. Piled in the cereal and toast and drank a lot of juice as I had plenty of time b4 the 8am start to digest it. Pulled on the club gear, which had been washed in the sink in Galway as I felt it was another day for them to be worn with as much pride as I could muster. My body was surprising me but you never know until you turn the pedals so I was working on the survival is utmost plan. I again had some knowledge of the roads we were travelling for the first 40 miles and knew that the hills although not as long as those to come were steep and was prepared for a Slowly Slowly conquer the Hills day. The Express formed up immediately although we rode out of town at the backend of the big bunch. Things began to split as we hit the 1st of the 3 early climbs and you could riders snaked along the roads. Climbed each of the 3 and a slow steady rhythm and was up at the front of the bunch as we sailed down from the Buffs above Carlow. At a sharp right turn one of the lads lost his line on gravel and started to slide across the rd. Charlie reunited with his Giant had nowhere to go and ran straight into him. We called a halt as we picked the lads up of the ground and Dan used his strength to straighten the bars. We also had a brake spring problem so as that was sorted most of the gang moved off down the long descent to the main rd. The 5 who hung on got going after about 5 mins and it was TTT time again. Hitting speeds of up to 34mph on the good surface we caught the others b4 the main rd and were altogether for the run into and thru Carlow. Legally breaking lights and crossing roundabouts is such fun. We were glad of the stop in Hacketstown were the Sandwiches and the chance to top up on supplies set us up for the Wicklow Mts. The thought of getting to the finish was overcoming any anxiety caused by the climbing ahead. Wicklow can’t be given justice in a situation like this. I have walked many of the hills and driven the rds and it is a very Beautiful place. By now the Sun was very warm (I could feel my legs burning despite factor 50 sun screen ) and the Views were amazing , not that I was in any real fit state to really appreciate them. The one big difference between today and the others with climbs was the road surface. In Wicklow there brilliant compared to some of those we had been on in Tipperary or Down. This meant every climb was rewarded by a great fast descent on relatively s mooth roads which had sweeping bends(it being Monday there was limited traffic) and it was great to sail down them. I acknowledged the Shay Elliot memorial as I passed and headed for Laragh and the climb to the top of the Gap where we had our final stop. This was a special moment for me as although the rest of the roads were not flat it would feel like we were on a downhill run home.. The EXPRESS GANG group photo was taken here (www.foylecycling.net when the lads get it up). The run down to Blessington Lakes was thrilling and I matched Monday’s speeds of 42,8mph. We were all finding the rolling road sapping our energy and the group was actually quite quiet. We worked hard as we headed for Kill on the narrow backroads which are busy at that time of day. But once again when we rolled over the 20km to go sign on the road people started to dig deep to keep things rolling. Austin who was surprised on Sat at how well he was travelling was now up pushing the pace although he could only use his small front ring as his front derailleur was stuck. Again showing what a spirit had been created in this merry band of cyclists.we held it together. Thru Celbridge and into Lucan and on up Keepers Hill (eddie had warned us this B**T**D of a little climb was to come) everyone was watching out for each other. When we hit the 1km to home sign the FOYLE BOYS were called to the front to lead the Express home and over the Line. To all those who I had the pleasure of riding with over these epic 4 days I say Thank You and Salute You. You are now part of one of the Best Experiences of my life. To Mark, Nigel, Donal and Tony long live and safe riding on the Foyle Express wherever it takes you. Cambridge Mark and Eddie its God Help us all if you ever move to a hilly area.!! Margaret. Go neiri an Bother leat in America. (old Irish wish for a person on their Journey) Austin Ill get the MAYO 300 back just for you. Dan the often repeated words GOOD JOB LADS were great to hear. Charlie it definitely was a CRACKING 4 DAYS and you were a big part of it and hope Taxi did not fleece you.
I for 1 am on for 09 I hope you all are at least giving it consideration.
Happy and Safe cycling until our paths cross or we take each others wheels.
Day 1. Lisburn to Cavan, 114 miles, 2331 metres of climbing.
Friday 9 May 2008, about 0830. Close to 200 cyclists of various shapes, sizes and abilities are lined up at the Lisburn Leisureplex awaiting the start. It’s an impressive sight, and if the rest of them are anything like competitor 130 they’re a mixture of excitement and slight apprehension. 500 miles in four days is a long way by my standards, and if you throw in close to 10,000 metres of ascent it’s going to be a tough one.
We start, and are escorted through the town by the police. This is a new experience for me, and the policing and marshalling of the event, on both sides of the border, are to become one of its best features. Escorts through town, traffic held back at junctions to let us pass, it all adds hugely to the safety, as well as the enjoyment, of the riders.
About thirty miles in I’m feeling pretty strong. A few minutes behind the fast group – this is not a time to entertain delusions of grandeur, so I’m going at my own pace – when disaster strikes in the form of a broken chain. Worse still, it drags the rear mech into the wheel and snaps the hanger as well as trashing the mech. Gerry the mechanic rolls up in his van and it takes him about a millisecond to recognise that there’s nothing he can do for me.
For a while it seems that my tour is over after just a couple of hours, and my mood might charitably be described as irritable. But with help from Leo in the broomwagon I locate a bike shop in Newry, and Gerry – my hero – drives me there in the mechanical support van. A few minutes later he, I and the staff are poring over every hanger in the shop, but without success. None of them fit my frame.
I’m not going to abandon, though, so we scour the shop for a bike that will fit me. The only affordable option (though I’d have liked the LaPierre at about two grand!) is a cross bike that is a shade too small but rideable. A few adjustments later, and a fair few quid lighter, and I’m on my way to riding the ToICC on a cyclocross bike (with cyclocross gearing) that doesn’t quite fit me.
Gerry drops me back in just ahead of the last group, and I have a pretty lonely chase in the rain for a couple of hours. At the second feed station, though, I hook up with Sue, Nicholas and a couple of others and we pace one another over the last 25 miles into Cavan. Rich, Matt and Nigel (we met over a Guinness in Dublin on the eve of the event and were now, of course, a team) looked at the new bike and politely concealed their burgeoning doubts about my sanity.
(Postscript: I discovered something new today, when my heartrate touched 186 on the climb after Newry while I tried to catch up. I’d thought my maximum HR was 185.)
Day 2. Cavan to Galway City, 124 miles, 1339 metres of climbing.
We roll out of Cavan shortly after eight. Once again we are escorted through the rush hour traffic, and the flatness of the terrain means that the early pace is pretty electric. I’m averaging 22 -23 mph for the first 15 miles or so, at which point I come to my senses and remember that even if I had been here to play with the big boys, there’s not a chance of my doing so on a bike that is already beginning to give me an aching back. So I drop off what is still a very large leading group and cruise along for a while with Margaret, a fine woman who is using this tour as a final stage in her training for the race across America!
Margaret and I are just beginning to find it quite hard work pacing one another along when a bunch of about a dozen sweep up behind us, and we are aboard the Foyle Express for the first time. Mark and a few of his clubmates from the Foyle cycling club have acquired a posse of hangers-on and have them organised into a perfectly functioning unit. Mark has a bell on his bike. Every few minutes he rings it, and we move through and off; every single rider taking their turn at the front, an even pace being maintained, everyone calling for holes and generally helping one another out. There are riders here who have rarely if ever ridden in a bunch. Twenty minutes with Mark and you’d swear they’d been on club runs every Sunday for the last ten years.
We keep this up, with pauses for feeding stations, for the next 80 miles into Galway City. Nobody is dropped, nobody breaks the rhythm or hides, it’s an absolute pleasure to cycle with this lot and I resolve to stick with them for the remainder of the tour.
In Galway City most of the riders are staying in the same hotel and I get a stronger impression of what a varied and sociable crowd this is. From the real professional through to the most inexperienced “leisure cyclist”, everyone seems determined to enjoy themselves and make it a social as well as sporting occasion. Nice.
Day 3. Galway to Kilkenny. 140 miles, 2765 metres of climbing.
The day begins with good news. The mechanical support team have scoured Galway’s bike shops for me and have found a hanger to fit my bike. Unfortunately there isn’t time to effect repairs, switch rear mech, etc before the start, so I am again on the cross bike. But at least there’s the prospect of riding my own bike on the final stage.
We set off promptly at 0800, ahead of the fast group – a state of affairs that lasts only about twenty minutes, when one of the bunch punctures. We wait – the Foyle Express leaves nobody behind – and the main bunch sweeps past us. In fact we find ourselves just in front of the broom wagon for a while, until we catch the final bunch – a group which, like ours, has developed its own identity and seems to have a distinct social scene. Rumour has it they stop for coffee and doughnuts when they pass a likely-looking café.
We’re making excellent progress in the same style as yesterday – word is getting round, and there’s now about 20 of us – but today’s stage is decidedly lumpier than yesterday’s and as soon as we are into any half-serious climbing it is clear that I’m in trouble. Trying to put power through what is too cramped a riding position turns the discomfort in my back into acute pain, and by the time two hours have passed I’m barely able to maintain the bunch’s pace. They look after me until we get to the first feeding station at just short of 60 miles, and I take stock. The big hills of the stage are still ahead, and if I continue there’s a real prospect that tomorrow morning my bike will be fixed, but I’ll be injured and unable to ride it. So after consulting a few fellow-riders, and with a real feeling of failure, I abandon the stage.
I’m not the only casualty, so there’s no room in the broom wagon or the mechanical support van. As a result I become a passenger in the refreshment van with Peter and Richie. This experience becomes more interesting than I’d bargained for when, because of the hot weather, we have to establish an unscheduled feeding station about 30 miles from the finish; a task accomplished only with a police escort and truly astronomical speeds over appallingly unsuitable roads to get ahead of the first group. We pass them, at close to 100mph and with the police motorcyclist clearing the way, with minutes to spare, screech to a halt in a parking place in Templemore, throw up the tent, set up the tables and try to look as if we’ve been there all day when the fast men breast the hill about thirty seconds later.
Today has clearly been a seriously tough day, summed up by the remark of a very senior cyclist as he spied the unscheduled stop. “Thank f*** for that, I’m seeing double. I don’t remember going as hard as that when I was racing.”
Today is also Sunday, so the police have completely closed the roads in Kilkenny for the finish. A fabulous experience for the early finishers, and especially the first group, sprinting for the line among noisy crowds as if this were a GT.
Incidentally, an honourable mention for the Hibernian, Ormonde Street, Kilkenny. A magnificent traditional bar serving, of course, magnificent traditional Guinness.
Day 4. Kilkenny to Dublin. 129 miles, 3474 metres of climbing.
Just to add insult to injury, this stage was lengthened by about 6 miles at the last minute.
It’s a beautiful day, so we’ll have a chance to make the most of the scenery in the Wicklow mountains. It also means that sunscreen and lots and lots of water are in order. Most of all, though, it’s a beautiful day because the mechanic has worked a minor miracle on my bike, cannibalizing the 8-speed rear mech from the cross bike and rigging it up so that I have a full range of gears – albeit with a few missing in the middle. I’m on my own bike, and the bliss of being in a comfortable riding position is extraordinary. It feels as if I’ve been given a new set of legs.
So it’s off again in the Foyle Express, which has now grown to 24 riders. Like clockwork, as ever, with the newcomers picking up the routine. But very soon we’re into the first serious climb of the day and it’s every man and woman for themselves – bar the occasional push for those who are struggling. About 60 miles in, my incident-packed week takes yet another turn. We’re turning right-handed at the bottom of a brief descent when Johnny loses his rear wheel on a patch of gravel and goes down in front of me. Lacking the bike-handling skills to jump over him, I have no chance of avoiding a collision and describe what I am told is a very elegant parabola, still clipped in, hitting the tarmac on the far side. Everyone clearly thinks I’m seriously hurt and keeps telling me to lie still. I, as is usual in these circumstances, am worrying about the bike.
No major damage to either of us, though my elbow won’t be bending all that much for a few days. Onward, this time to the big climbs of the day. Slievemann is the worst – one of those climbs that looks as if it is levelling out but is just waiting to demoralise you further. But we all make it, and the views, and the descents, are great. Finally we start the long drag up to the Wicklow Gap, and it is a long drag. The second feed station is at the top, and this is supposed to be the last serious climb, so I bury myself and give it everything I have left. At the top I’m having to hold Nigel’s wheel because so much sweat has run into my eyes that I can’t see more than about ten feet in front of me. But once there, eyes wiped, the scenery and the sense of achievement are fantastic.
The descent is great too, but at the bottom I discover that it is not downhill all the way to Dublin. The road round the reservoir is up and down, up and down, a series of short sharp climbs with descents too short to allow recovery. An hour or so of this and I am beginning to get truly tired. But eventually things level out again, the Express gets back into rhythm, and we take it home, finishing as a group with nobody left behind.
So, been there, done that, got the T-shirt. Will I be back? I think I will, partly because I feel I have unfinished business on stage three, partly because I’d like to ride the whole event on my own bike, but mainly because it drew such an engaging bunch of people. I’d certainly recommend it unreservedly to any serious sportive rider – it takes the concept to a whole different level. Sign up.
Thanks to all who sponsored me, and of course to the support team who got me back on the road.
But thanks also to Matt, Rich, Nigel, Dave, Mark, Fergal, Margaret, Katie and a host of others who made the whole experience one to remember from a social as well as a sporting perspective.
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Well Lads as I said all along my intention had been to ENJOY, COMPLETE and if Possible lead a group into Galway with a Garda escort on the Sat afternoon. I Got all 3.
Thursday ( travelling up)
Got off to a bad start when I missed the train from my local station and had to head to Athenry to connect with the Galway train instead. Was already getting funny looks re the bike bag. Get across Dublin on the tram type trains and board the Belfast train, to be told that due to a security alert we will be bused part of the way. The NI rail guys were great and made sure Bike was safely placed on bus. Then local train to Lisburn. Was one of the early arrivals. As the bodies started to arrive it was obvious this was no ordinary bunch of cyclist. Every shape and size they may have been but if you were looking for anything other than lean meat you would have had a very hard time finding it.
And as for the bikes every make and model was there to be seen. While talking to Guys when putting the bikes together and eating the meal it was obvious everyone was unsure of what the next 4 days would bring no matter at what level they rode. At this stage Introduced myself to Mark Was on my own that night in Belfast hotel and slept fitfully.
Friday. Lisburn to Cavan 115 mls(aim to keep an average speed of 16mph)Met Peter V and Chris while waiting for bus after breakfast You could feel the tension on the bus and it was almost touchable when we got to the Sports complex. Weather had taken a turn and so it was a day for the rain gear. Still think I looked the part in my Westernlakescc gear We got stocked up on Drinks, bars and bananas and we set off for the 1km roll to the start. As usual I was out the back actually feeling quite
nervous .Got caught on the hop really when we set off and had to work hard to get up to a bunch and it took me a while to get myself comfortable. The names of all the climbs were a blur to me at the time but I did find myself grapping Peters wheel as we approached Drumree Hill and thanks to the man above for that . (now I thought we had hills over here ,they are only pimples)I am not the greatest decender in the world(wet roads!!!!)but with being able to see Peter on the road in front of me I hit 42.8mph on this decent and started up the climb to Spelga dam where P bounced away we were now catching others so going over the top I atleast was not alone. I did seem to be holding my average but was very happy to get to the feed station as I had dropped 1 of my bottles and was feeling a little weak. Here I made a big mistake!. I arrived just as the big group was readying itself to leave.Some of the lads encouraged me to join on and I dithered for a few minutes and by the time I got back out on to the road I was 200m down and I should have stopped and waited for the bunch of riders which had just turned in to the stop. I didn’t I chased up the road and was getting within touching distance but missed a set of lights in Rostrevor and had to stop. I was on my own thru Warrenpoint and Newry. Little didI know what Slieve Gullion had in store for me. For the next leg I was keeping myself sane pretending to be the lone break instead of the lone chaser. What a climb(would love to see the views in good weather) but I did crack it but was seeing stars , going over the top. 1 of the MB lads told me as he passed there was a group about a mile back and I reckoned with my slow descent(surface was SH*T) they would catch me b4 the next stop. This they did as we arrived just b4 Creggan and I tagged on to the FOYLE EXPRESS.I had covered 32mls on my own Foyle CC members Mark , Nigel, Donald and Tony were leading a group which worked on the principle that Mark rang The Bell every 2 mins and the outside line rolled up and over.(If you did your bit you were welcome aboard if not you were back on your own if you had a problem). I struggled to hang on thru Crossmaglen but got 2 the Feedstation at Ballybay (90mls) just a few 100 yards down. The soup and sandwiches were a blessing. Set off with them after we had restocked up with supplies and this time was able to do my bit. Not sure how many or who everyone was at this stage but Lads you saved my bacon. With everyone taking their turn we rolled on nicely over the border and got picked up by a MB as we were now a sizeable group. We sailed on to Cootehill and getting ever closer to Cavan the speeds increased.We cruised into Cavan a happy bunch (no sprint finish as it was all for 1 and 1 for all).As we headed for the Sports Centre nobody had told me about the F***ing hill.Started to wobble as the adrenalin drained from my body and I keeled over.A big thanks to Kelloggs Paul O’C for lifting me up and holding me steady as my legs were gone. Ate like a horse that evening and even went to Tesco for apples and juice and flapjacks to pile in more. Added a pint of Guinness to my rehydration prog and was in bed asleep by 9.30. My speedo showed a 15.8mph average
Day 2 Cavan to Galway 124 miles
Woke feeling a lot better than I expected . Breakfast was a bit of a mess as there were only 2 staff on duty so it was abit hit or miss if you wanted anything more than cereal. Then the bus seemed to take its time. But all was well and we set off in what could be described as typical dull grey expect all types of weather sky above our heads.It remained dry all day. This time I made sure I was not 2 far back in the group and as we sailed out of town I was able to bridge the gaps that were beginning to appear.
Recognised Cambridge Mark and Eddie(really a Dub) and Kellogs Paul from day 1 and sailed along at the back of the big bunch at a great rate for about 20 miles b4 the gaps began to reappear all through the peloton(sounds good).For the next 34 mls we worked together and caught a few more bodies and as we got to Strokestown Feed stop we had about 20 rider latched on. Just as we sat down the Foyle 4 arrived with about 10 more so we took the extra minutes and the Express was reformed for the remainder of Day 2.This was regarded as the flat stage but this what we call Drumlin Country here so the roads go up and down and around the rolling hills which can take its toll. 10 miles in we sucked in Charlie and Margret (serpentine) and so the gang was now was up on 36. At this stage we were flying along and every1 was doing there bit so with your stints at the front only coming every hour it was a free ride really. But the banter was good and we were an international bunch by now. Charlie explained about his bike problems on day 1 and was riding the only bike he could get his hands on in Newry. Austen was already expressing amazement with how well he was going. We crossed the main Dublin /Roscommon road and we were entering country I know real well after about 70 miles and approached the 2 climbs of the day. We were having a good day(no punctures and nobody suffering much) and we kept it together to the feedstop where we picked up a MB who was to lead us home.With just over 30 to go you could feel the pace pick up as the steady pace left everyone with decent legs left. Have to admit I was chomping at the bit. The stronger riders were skipping across the lines when gaps appeared and the pace had moved up to 20mph by the time we hit Menlough. We were now on a straight run for Galway and I was able to give the mile for mile description as I drive this everyday at work. In Monivea we picked up a 2nd MB and my wish for the stage end was looking better. We were now hitting 23/24mph at the front(Bell was ringing every 1 minute) and as we got to Carnmore Cross we were waved thru by a Garda and got onto the smooth tarmac of Galways outer roads. I led the gang thru the first of the 5 roundabouts which are the bane of my life as a van Driver. We had a hairy moment at the Tuam rd O as a driver on the outside lane cut across for the 1st exit.But all was good as we sailed down the hill on the ring road now with a Garda Bike in front as well. The dream was now coming good. The MB guys are amazing.I was the 3rd man on the outside line when we went thru the Headford rdO and a path was opening up b4 us(just to explain the next 400m is between to shopping centres and can take 10min to cover at 4pm on a Sat afternoon).We hit the now infamous BODKIN O 5 exits and all light controlled outside my work place.its blocked up with traffic and the lads in front follow the arrows that are for Sunday morning .I shout at them as I sail straight on but this was my home stage and I know Galway drivers (they would close the gap very quickly) so I kick on. Here a roar of COME on WESTERNLAKES as people start clapping and cheering as we pass the Town hall and cross the bridge in front of the Cathedral and around the bend b4 turning for
the finish in NUIG To all the lads who did not try to chase me down a BIG THANKS I had lived the DREAM.
Roomed with Big Charlie that nite and enjoyed use of the Leisure facilities b4 a few pints and again hit the bed at 9.30.To quote Charlie ‘That was a Cracking good DAY’
I am forgetting name so I apologise to anyone who is not mentioned but describing your Jerseys would take up alot of Space
Day 3 A Day to Pay (suffering in the Hills) Once again I woke feeling a lot fresher than I ever felt I would and the atmosphere a Breakfast was one of enthusiastic apprehension re the long stage ahead. It was funny to see people trying to work out the Irish weather looking up at the sky at 7am having seen the forcast the nite b4. I did try to explain that our forcasters speak in code that we learn very early on in life. They cover their asses by mentioning everything.
The Foyle Express was now a fully recognised group and we gathered up very quickly. The groups were being let off in reverse order so we left Galway 2nd with what was to be 20 min lead over the main bunch. After a little detour because I followed the original markings that were the ones that caused the problem on out way in (and had been on the road when I left work on the Wednesday) we got the Crew working. By now all the usual suspects were on board plus a few more about 24 in total.
About 2 miles out of Oranmore we had our first puncture (Now up to this we had been very lucky and as a rule we would stop so no one was being dropped when they had a mechanical, this was what made this group special. All for 1 and 1 for All)Today as it was a long spin I opted to stay and assist in the ride back so the Express could keep moving. The main bunch sailed by just as the Backup team got to us and supplied a wheel change and then it was sit in behind the Broomwagon at 26 mph to get back up. That was fun though the legs felt it. For me the proof that the Foyle Express was now more than just a bunch of cyclists who just happened to be thrown together by the tour happened after about 40 miles. Going over the rolling ridge in the Cappaghaban Mountains Charlie dropped his Sunglasses and stopped to get them. The head of the Gang never heard the shout and sailed on. Foyle’s Nigel , Cambridge Mark and I did so we slowed. Mark and I were a little up in front of the other 2. Now Charlie is about 6’6” and built to match, Nigel would be best described as a built to be a Jockey so when they appeared
around the corner absolutely powering along with Charlie on Nigel’s wheel you knew we were now fully fledged team-mates. Mark and I got rolling and took up TTT mode. It took about a mile to catch up but we were hitting 28 mph on the changeovers and it felt great to be able to do it. We were all glad to reach the feedstop. Here we lost Charlie as his replacement bike was now causing back spasms and with the possibility of having his own bike back on the road for Day4 he felt it was the best option. Having him there fully of encouragement at the stops later in the day was an added bonus as I personally was to miss him on the climbs later when I was suffering. With the sun now coming out, we were seeing Ireland at its best. I was proud to be there to hear peoples reaction to the scenery as we looked down on Lough Derg and the Shannon . We were cheeky when crossing the Shannon as we went across against the Traffic on the one lane bridge. From here I started to suffer badly. I managed the first 2 climbs but hit the first of the big ones far to hard and started to cramp up . (Looking back I had not followed the same refueling in Galway as I had in Cavan and was paying the price) also these climbs were the steepest I have ever met and after 3 days I should have known better. I just could not stand up in
the pedals and had to stop 3 times on this and the next one b4 the feed stop. Filled up with supplies and then came down the hairiest descent ever. Narrow roads with grass up the middle, pine needles on each side and switch back turns that seem to be vertical. Watching lads who were flying down earlier coming almost to a stop as they took these turns was adding to my nerves. Slowly but surely I was getting further behind and was loosing site of the group on the rolling hills. So after stuffing myself again with gels and a Banana decided to go for broke as I knew we had
nearly 50 miles left and I was better to try and get back as the lads would have a pitstop at some stage and I it would give me a chance. Don’t know where the power came from but I found reserves somewhere and caught Martin who said the gang were not really that far in front so we pushed on and thankfully nature had called and the group were just remounting on the road after 3 more miles. By now I was legless and when one of the guy that was picked up from another group slowed to ask me about his friend further back I clipped his wheel and just wobbled into the verge and fell over. Irish roads are rough and although my fall was very much a slow motion drop I split my knee. Now it was only a scratch but I tend to bleed well and so after about 5 mins my leg was a river of red. It looked GREAT. I sat at the back for the next few miles and was glad to get to Templemore for the stop. Washed the leg but only succeeded to reopen it. We were still about 40 miles from finish and now the group was bigger than ever with new bodies having been picked up along the way. This meant I was not hitting the front to often so I was able to get my legs back. And so when we crossed the main Dublin/Cork rd in Johnstown with just over 20miles to go and the pace upped I was ok. Mark started to ring the bell every min from 10 miles out and the power was flowing thru the bunch. But it became obvious that some of the riders we had caught were not pulling their weight. ( The glory of the Main Street Kilkenny finish was calling.) Boy do I hate when That Happens. I know these
roads as I spent some great years here in my younger days and so it was pay back to the lads of the Foyle Express for my dream coming thru the day b4.I was willing to die so no TAGGER would win the day. You could feel it in the group as the pride swelled and we kept the pace upped and everyone closed the gaps and anyone with strength left moved up to keep it going. Again as we hit the outskirts of the city we had the MB guys appear to lead the way. As we dropped down a hill one rider made a break for it and all hell broke loose I have never ridden as hard thru traffic
trying with some of the others to claw him back(to those who have followed my Blog I had definitely found my competitive Spirit) The City was very busy and the streets are narrow so we had only just enough room for the bike to fit thru and as we came to the last set of lights we had to STOP. Then when they went green a TAGGER was first away and despite our best efforts we could not catch him up the last 200m on the hill. Still it was another great day and after putting the bike away I was delighted to be able to walk the 100m to the hotel and shower and eat well.Was absolutely wrecked but delighted to have got this far. Now it was just a matter of surviving to the finish
Roomed with Dave from Northumberland that nite who was back for year 2 and found his comparisons interesting
Went to bed after a pint at 9pm and was out cold very quickly.
Kilkenny to Dublin 123mls plus 10 detour
And now the End is only 130mls away J
Although I fell asleep early I was waking every 1/2hour from 2 and so was out of bed and sitting at Breakfast at 6am. Piled in the cereal and toast and drank a lot of juice as I had plenty of time b4 the 8am start to digest it. Pulled on the club gear, which had been washed in the sink in Galway as I felt it was another day for them to be worn with as much pride as I could muster. My body was surprising me but you never know until you turn the pedals so I was working on the survival is utmost plan. I again had some knowledge of the roads we were travelling for the first 40 miles and knew
that the hills although not as long as those to come were steep and was prepared for a Slowly Slowly conquer the Hills day. The Express formed up immediately although we rode out of town at the backend of the big bunch. Things began to split as we hit the 1st of the 3 early climbs and you could riders snaked along the roads. Climbed each of the 3 and a slow steady rhythm and was up at the front of the bunch as we sailed down from the Buffs above Carlow. At a sharp right turn one of the lads lost his line on gravel and started to slide across the rd. Charlie reunited with his Giant had nowhere to go and ran straight into him. We called a halt as we picked the lads up of the ground and Dan used his strength to straighten the bars. We also had a brake spring problem so as that was sorted most of the gang moved off down the long descent to the main rd. The 5 who hung on got going after about 5 mins and it was TTT time again. Hitting speeds of up to 34mph on the good surface we caught the
others b4 the main rd and were altogether for the run into and thru Carlow. Legally breaking lights and crossing roundabouts is such fun. We were glad of the stop in Hacketstown were the Sandwiches and the chance to top up on supplies set us up for the Wicklow Mts. The thought of getting to the finish was overcoming any anxiety caused by the climbing ahead. Wicklow can’t be given justice in a situation like this. I have walked many of the hills and driven the rds and it is a very Beautiful place. By now the Sun was very warm (I could feel my legs burning despite factor 50 sun screen ) and the Views were amazing , not that I was in any real fit
state to really appreciate them. The one big difference between today and the others with climbs was the road surface. In Wicklow there brilliant compared to some of those we had been on in Tipperary or Down. This meant every climb was rewarded by a great fast descent on relatively s mooth roads which had sweeping bends(it being Monday there was limited traffic) and it was great to sail down them. I acknowledged the Shay Elliot memorial as I passed and headed for Laragh and the climb to the top of the Gap where we had our final stop. This was a special moment
for me as although the rest of the roads were not flat it would feel like we were on a downhill run home.. The EXPRESS GANG group photo was taken here (www.foylecycling.net when the lads get it up). The run down to Blessington Lakes was thrilling and I matched Monday’s speeds of 42,8mph.
We were all finding the rolling road sapping our energy and the group was actually quite quiet. We worked hard as we headed for Kill on the narrow backroads which are busy at that time of day. But once again when we rolled over the 20km to go sign on the road people started to dig deep to keep things rolling. Austin who was surprised on Sat at how well he was travelling was now up pushing the pace although he could only use his small front ring as his front derailleur was stuck. Again showing what a spirit had been created in this merry band of cyclists.we held it together. Thru Celbridge and into Lucan and on up Keepers Hill (eddie had warned us this B**T**D of a little climb was to come) everyone was watching out for each other.
When we hit the 1km to home sign the FOYLE BOYS were called to the front to lead the Express home and over the Line.
To all those who I had the pleasure of riding with over these epic 4 days I say Thank You and Salute You. You are now part of one of the Best Experiences
of my life.
To Mark, Nigel, Donal and Tony long live and safe riding on the Foyle Express wherever it takes you.
Cambridge Mark and Eddie its God Help us all if you ever move to a hilly area.!!
Margaret. Go neiri an Bother leat in America. (old Irish wish for a person on their Journey)
Austin Ill get the MAYO 300 back just for you.
Dan the often repeated words GOOD JOB LADS were great to hear.
Charlie it definitely was a CRACKING 4 DAYS and you were a big part of it and hope Taxi did not fleece you.
I for 1 am on for 09 I hope you all are at least giving it consideration.
Happy and Safe cycling until our paths cross or we take each others wheels.
Fergal(Esroh) O’Neill
Westernlakes CC
Day 1. Lisburn to Cavan, 114 miles, 2331 metres of climbing.
Friday 9 May 2008, about 0830. Close to 200 cyclists of various shapes, sizes and abilities are lined up at the Lisburn Leisureplex awaiting the start. It’s an impressive sight, and if the rest of them are anything like competitor 130 they’re a mixture of excitement and slight apprehension. 500 miles in four days is a long way by my standards, and if you throw in close to 10,000 metres of ascent it’s going to be a tough one.
We start, and are escorted through the town by the police. This is a new experience for me, and the policing and marshalling of the event, on both sides of the border, are to become one of its best features. Escorts through town, traffic held back at junctions to let us pass, it all adds hugely to the safety, as well as the enjoyment, of the riders.
About thirty miles in I’m feeling pretty strong. A few minutes behind the fast group – this is not a time to entertain delusions of grandeur, so I’m going at my own pace – when disaster strikes in the form of a broken chain. Worse still, it drags the rear mech into the wheel and snaps the hanger as well as trashing the mech. Gerry the mechanic rolls up in his van and it takes him about a millisecond to recognise that there’s nothing he can do for me.
For a while it seems that my tour is over after just a couple of hours, and my mood might charitably be described as irritable. But with help from Leo in the broomwagon I locate a bike shop in Newry, and Gerry – my hero – drives me there in the mechanical support van. A few minutes later he, I and the staff are poring over every hanger in the shop, but without success. None of them fit my frame.
I’m not going to abandon, though, so we scour the shop for a bike that will fit me. The only affordable option (though I’d have liked the LaPierre at about two grand!) is a cross bike that is a shade too small but rideable. A few adjustments later, and a fair few quid lighter, and I’m on my way to riding the ToICC on a cyclocross bike (with cyclocross gearing) that doesn’t quite fit me.
Gerry drops me back in just ahead of the last group, and I have a pretty lonely chase in the rain for a couple of hours. At the second feed station, though, I hook up with Sue, Nicholas and a couple of others and we pace one another over the last 25 miles into Cavan. Rich, Matt and Nigel (we met over a Guinness in Dublin on the eve of the event and were now, of course, a team) looked at the new bike and politely concealed their burgeoning doubts about my sanity.
(Postscript: I discovered something new today, when my heartrate touched 186 on the climb after Newry while I tried to catch up. I’d thought my maximum HR was 185.)
Day 2. Cavan to Galway City, 124 miles, 1339 metres of climbing.
We roll out of Cavan shortly after eight. Once again we are escorted through the rush hour traffic, and the flatness of the terrain means that the early pace is pretty electric. I’m averaging 22 -23 mph for the first 15 miles or so, at which point I come to my senses and remember that even if I had been here to play with the big boys, there’s not a chance of my doing so on a bike that is already beginning to give me an aching back. So I drop off what is still a very large leading group and cruise along for a while with Margaret, a fine woman who is using this tour as a final stage in her training for the race across America!
Margaret and I are just beginning to find it quite hard work pacing one another along when a bunch of about a dozen sweep up behind us, and we are aboard the Foyle Express for the first time. Mark and a few of his clubmates from the Foyle cycling club have acquired a posse of hangers-on and have them organised into a perfectly functioning unit. Mark has a bell on his bike. Every few minutes he rings it, and we move through and off; every single rider taking their turn at the front, an even pace being maintained, everyone calling for holes and generally helping one another out. There are riders here who have rarely if ever ridden in a bunch. Twenty minutes with Mark and you’d swear they’d been on club runs every Sunday for the last ten years.
We keep this up, with pauses for feeding stations, for the next 80 miles into Galway City. Nobody is dropped, nobody breaks the rhythm or hides, it’s an absolute pleasure to cycle with this lot and I resolve to stick with them for the remainder of the tour.
In Galway City most of the riders are staying in the same hotel and I get a stronger impression of what a varied and sociable crowd this is. From the real professional through to the most inexperienced “leisure cyclist”, everyone seems determined to enjoy themselves and make it a social as well as sporting occasion. Nice.
Day 3. Galway to Kilkenny. 140 miles, 2765 metres of climbing.
The day begins with good news. The mechanical support team have scoured Galway’s bike shops for me and have found a hanger to fit my bike. Unfortunately there isn’t time to effect repairs, switch rear mech, etc before the start, so I am again on the cross bike. But at least there’s the prospect of riding my own bike on the final stage.
We set off promptly at 0800, ahead of the fast group – a state of affairs that lasts only about twenty minutes, when one of the bunch punctures. We wait – the Foyle Express leaves nobody behind – and the main bunch sweeps past us. In fact we find ourselves just in front of the broom wagon for a while, until we catch the final bunch – a group which, like ours, has developed its own identity and seems to have a distinct social scene. Rumour has it they stop for coffee and doughnuts when they pass a likely-looking café.
We’re making excellent progress in the same style as yesterday – word is getting round, and there’s now about 20 of us – but today’s stage is decidedly lumpier than yesterday’s and as soon as we are into any half-serious climbing it is clear that I’m in trouble. Trying to put power through what is too cramped a riding position turns the discomfort in my back into acute pain, and by the time two hours have passed I’m barely able to maintain the bunch’s pace. They look after me until we get to the first feeding station at just short of 60 miles, and I take stock. The big hills of the stage are still ahead, and if I continue there’s a real prospect that tomorrow morning my bike will be fixed, but I’ll be injured and unable to ride it. So after consulting a few fellow-riders, and with a real feeling of failure, I abandon the stage.
I’m not the only casualty, so there’s no room in the broom wagon or the mechanical support van. As a result I become a passenger in the refreshment van with Peter and Richie. This experience becomes more interesting than I’d bargained for when, because of the hot weather, we have to establish an unscheduled feeding station about 30 miles from the finish; a task accomplished only with a police escort and truly astronomical speeds over appallingly unsuitable roads to get ahead of the first group. We pass them, at close to 100mph and with the police motorcyclist clearing the way, with minutes to spare, screech to a halt in a parking place in Templemore, throw up the tent, set up the tables and try to look as if we’ve been there all day when the fast men breast the hill about thirty seconds later.
Today has clearly been a seriously tough day, summed up by the remark of a very senior cyclist as he spied the unscheduled stop. “Thank f*** for that, I’m seeing double. I don’t remember going as hard as that when I was racing.”
Today is also Sunday, so the police have completely closed the roads in Kilkenny for the finish. A fabulous experience for the early finishers, and especially the first group, sprinting for the line among noisy crowds as if this were a GT.
Incidentally, an honourable mention for the Hibernian, Ormonde Street, Kilkenny. A magnificent traditional bar serving, of course, magnificent traditional Guinness.
Day 4. Kilkenny to Dublin. 129 miles, 3474 metres of climbing.
Just to add insult to injury, this stage was lengthened by about 6 miles at the last minute.
It’s a beautiful day, so we’ll have a chance to make the most of the scenery in the Wicklow mountains. It also means that sunscreen and lots and lots of water are in order. Most of all, though, it’s a beautiful day because the mechanic has worked a minor miracle on my bike, cannibalizing the 8-speed rear mech from the cross bike and rigging it up so that I have a full range of gears – albeit with a few missing in the middle. I’m on my own bike, and the bliss of being in a comfortable riding position is extraordinary. It feels as if I’ve been given a new set of legs.
So it’s off again in the Foyle Express, which has now grown to 24 riders. Like clockwork, as ever, with the newcomers picking up the routine. But very soon we’re into the first serious climb of the day and it’s every man and woman for themselves – bar the occasional push for those who are struggling. About 60 miles in, my incident-packed week takes yet another turn. We’re turning right-handed at the bottom of a brief descent when Johnny loses his rear wheel on a patch of gravel and goes down in front of me. Lacking the bike-handling skills to jump over him, I have no chance of avoiding a collision and describe what I am told is a very elegant parabola, still clipped in, hitting the tarmac on the far side. Everyone clearly thinks I’m seriously hurt and keeps telling me to lie still. I, as is usual in these circumstances, am worrying about the bike.
No major damage to either of us, though my elbow won’t be bending all that much for a few days. Onward, this time to the big climbs of the day. Slievemann is the worst – one of those climbs that looks as if it is levelling out but is just waiting to demoralise you further. But we all make it, and the views, and the descents, are great. Finally we start the long drag up to the Wicklow Gap, and it is a long drag. The second feed station is at the top, and this is supposed to be the last serious climb, so I bury myself and give it everything I have left. At the top I’m having to hold Nigel’s wheel because so much sweat has run into my eyes that I can’t see more than about ten feet in front of me. But once there, eyes wiped, the scenery and the sense of achievement are fantastic.
The descent is great too, but at the bottom I discover that it is not downhill all the way to Dublin. The road round the reservoir is up and down, up and down, a series of short sharp climbs with descents too short to allow recovery. An hour or so of this and I am beginning to get truly tired. But eventually things level out again, the Express gets back into rhythm, and we take it home, finishing as a group with nobody left behind.
So, been there, done that, got the T-shirt. Will I be back? I think I will, partly because I feel I have unfinished business on stage three, partly because I’d like to ride the whole event on my own bike, but mainly because it drew such an engaging bunch of people. I’d certainly recommend it unreservedly to any serious sportive rider – it takes the concept to a whole different level. Sign up.
Thanks to all who sponsored me, and of course to the support team who got me back on the road.
But thanks also to Matt, Rich, Nigel, Dave, Mark, Fergal, Margaret, Katie and a host of others who made the whole experience one to remember from a social as well as a sporting perspective.
Charles Marshall
13 May 2008
hi, foylecycling.blogspot.com!
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