Laurent Fignon - RIP

I am deeply saddened to hear the news that two-time Tour De France winner, Laurent Fignon, has lost his battle with cancer. He passed away earlier today, aged just 50.




Fignon was a colourful figure, never afraid to speak his mind. A very impressive Tour winner in 1983, on his debut, and again in 1984, and Giro D'Italia winner in 1989, Fignon had the misfortune to be mostly remembered as the man who lost the 1989 Tour to Greg Lemond by the smallest ever margin, 8 seconds.




He fought his stomach cancer very publicly, even appearing as a commentator at this years Tour, but it appears that he has now lost that fight.

May he rest in peace.

L'Equipe Photo Tribute

The Flying Cyclist's Trans-Australia Record attempt

I am always fascinated by people doing mad things for the sake of it so I was delighted to hear about the Flying Cyclist via Facebook this morning.

The Flying Cyclist is 25 year old Chris Marris, and he is currently about 1,000km into an attempt to break the Guinness World Record for cycling from Perth, on the west coast of Australia, to Sydney, on the east coast. That's a total of approx 4,000km.

To break the current record of 8 days, 10 hours and 57 minutes, held by fellow Australian, Richard Vollebregt, Chris will have to spend up to 20 hours a day on his bike, covering approx 550km on each of those days (the equivalent of Paris to Amsterdam). That will be done while traversing some of the most hostile roads in the world, including the infamous Nullarbor Plain, over 1,000km of treeless, arid, flat plain, where daytime temperatures can reach nearly 50 C, before plummeting to almost freezing at night.

Chris is using his attempt to raise funds for the Royal Flying Doctor Service, a uniquely Australian, not-for-profit institution, which provides medical services to the most remote and inaccessible parts of Australia.

You can read more about Chris, make a donation and follow his progress by going to his website, http://www.flyingcyclist.com.au/.

Best of luck, Chris

What is it with dogs and bikes? - Update

Back in March I wrote a post which asked the question "What is it with dogs and bikes?". You can read it by clicking here. I finished the post by asking for any good bike v dog stories. I got no replies at the time but no matter because now I can add one of my own. Although sitting here right now I'm not sure that good is the right word.

Yesterday morning I went for a spin with my mate, Stephen. We did about 100km around the Garristown/Naul area in lovely, autumn sunshine. We were in no rush and even had time for a most welcome coffee at the Seamus Ennis café in Naul village.

After riding in as far as the North Circular Road with Stephen, I headed home along the coast at Clontarf. I rode the bike lane to Dollymount and then switched to the road for the short stretch by St Anne's Park, where there's no bike lane. This bit is dead flat, dead straight and about a mile from home so I was moving at a handy pace (for me) of about 18-20 mph.

Next thing I knew I was airborne. As is the way with these things I can piece together some of the scene in hindsight. I can remember a car horn blowing, a dog yelping and looking down at a golden coloured Labrador wrapped around my front wheel.

Then I felt the pain of a very hard landing on the concrete road. My left hip felt like it had exploded. I was also slightly aware that my helmet didn't feel right either but don't remember feeling my head hit the road. As there had been no warning it took a little time for me to realise what had happened. But the pain in my hip left me in little doubt. I'd run straight into the dog, who had run from the park on my left and simply dashed across the road. He ended up getting a major blow to the midriff and I found myself somersaulting my handlebars.

As the initial impact pain subsided I became aware of voices asking if I was alright. A Range Rover had stopped on the opposite side of the road and I saw a woman from it move my bike off the road, A man in a reflective vest was standing over me but I don't know what he was saying. Another man, with a small backpack, was asking me if I could get up.

His words reminded me that I was lying in the road but when I tried to move it was obvious my left hip area was bad. I couldn't raise my left leg at all. The man must have realised that too and I heard him tell someone else to call an ambulance. He very kindly put his backpack under my head and I settled down to wait. As I was so close to home I asked the man to call my wife so she could get down to me, collect my bike and find out what hospital I was heading for.

It was only at this point that I took off my helmet only to discover that the back section of it had been shorn off completely. Like I said, I don't remember hitting my head but the state of the helmet said it all!

To cut a long story short, there followed a very uncomfortable journey on a spinal board and neck-brace to hospital, some painful rolling onto a trolley to have my back and neck checked followed by x-rays and other exams. The outcome was a diagnosis of a fractured pelvis and up to six weeks on crutches and painkillers.

The worst part is I was going really well on the bike and looking forward to enjoying some more end of summer spins!

So what lessons should be learned from this:

1) the park bye-laws state that "Dogs are allowed off lead up to 11.00am each day & for the last hour before official Park Closing Time. At all other times, dogs must be kept on a leash." That needs to be enforced.
2) helmets have a purpose,
3) there are still people about who will step up to help when needed
4) ambulance men need to be trained how to open cycling shoes when the wearer is totally unable to move and help

Finally, on the off chance they might read this, I would like to thank all of those who came to my aid, especially my wife, kids and in-laws, Dublin Fire Brigade, the doc and nurses in Beaumont Hospital, the various drivers who stopped and, especially, the man with the backpack who took control of the situation and made sure I was comfortable, and safe, while waiting for the emergency services to arrive.

the muse-ette has a new address.

the muse-ette now has a new address on the interweb. You can now find us at:

http://www.muse-ette.com

Of course, the old address http://muse-ette.blogspot.com will still work too so if you have it bookmarked, not to worry, you needn't change anything.

I'm a MAMIL

A typical MAMIL.

It's always disconcerting to hear a new term being bandied humorously about in the media and then realise it applies to you!

Todays acronym is MAMIL. That is "Middle Aged Men In Lycra". Apparently this is the new name given to those of us over the age of 40(ish) who've taken to the roads on our Alu-Carbon or Full Carbon steeds, happy to be seen in public in our (sometimes very) tight, shiny clothes, sweating our way to the top of our local hills and mountains in the name of fitness (and reliving past glories!).

It seems that this is now being considered the new mid-life crisis. Gone are the shiny sports cars and jet-skis, replaced by Pinarello Dogmas and Shimano Di2's. It's out with what my wife's friend politely referred to as "f***ing marathons and motorbikes" and in with Arm-warmers and Wicklow 200's.

I was completely unaware of the label until it was covered on the Summer On One show on RTE Radio 1 this morning. So, for those of you who missed it, here it is:

From what I can see the term first came to prominence in this BBC article:

"Rise of the Mamils (middle-aged men in lycra)"

And, naturally, there're now two Facebook groups for Mamils:

MAMIL  and MAMIL Club of Great Britain

Personally, I'm glad to be a MAMIL. Having got back on the bike last year for health reasons, this year alone I've lost over two stone, I've rediscovered beautiful cycling roads I'd forgotten existed, I climbed Mamore (almost), I've covered 100 miles or more a couple of times and have several medals and certificates to show off. Plus,more importantly, I've rekindled and started several friendships which might not have happened otherwise. So scoff away media people because I can't see a downside.

Inishowen 100 2010 - More Pics

One of the best things about Foyle CC's i100 is the fact they have a photographer out on course taking pics of everyone. They really are nice to see afterwards.

Below are a few I've selected, mainly of myself and Kevin, but you can see them all by following these links:

Photos 1

Photos 2

Cruising in the morning mist.

Great view of Mamore.

Joe Barr (left) makes it look easy.

Kevins not looking too bad either.

But I think I was making harder work of it!

Knockamany Bens, over Five Fingers Strand, was a bit easier.

Nice shot of the final descent off Kinnegoe. What a day!

Once again, thanks to all at Foyle CC for a great day out.

Inishowen 100 2010

Having been to Inishowen on holidays with my family (but without my bike) earlier in the summer I was very keen to find a way to do some riding there. When Kevin Clarke told me he was riding the Inishowen 100 sportive I saw my chance and got my entry in.

Run by Foyle Cycling Club in Derry, the Inishowen 100 follows the approximately 100 mile tourist driving route of the same name on a very scenic lap of the Inishowen Peninsula, the most northern part of Ireland. In the best Irish tradition of making things as confusing as possible, it starts and finishes in Northern Ireland but then heads north to the "South" where the vast bulk of the ride takes place.





A look at the route map and profile shows two main obstacles en route. Foyle CC's event takes a clockwise direction around the peninsula which means the legendary Gap of Mamore is tackled quite early while Kinnego Bay comes in the latter stages. Of course, as is the way with these things, what the profile doesn't really show is that in between there are plenty more climbs to sap the legs, particularly in the third quarter of the route.

The big fear most riders would have taking on this ride, apart from Mamore of course, is that the final quarter is on wide roads in a south westerly direction. Given the prevailing wind in this part of the world the odds of a strong headwind on this section, when legs are tired, are very high. I'd heard that was the case last year and riders really struggled in the closing stages. So it was with much trepidation that I watched the forecast in the week leading up to the ride. As the day got closer the news was good. Most sources were forecasting a bright, sunny and, most importantly, calm day.

I travelled to Donegal the day before the event as I'd arranged to stay in Kevins house near Malin Head. Bypassing Derry, to avoid the annual Apprentice Boys March, I headed for Letterkenny and Buncrana instead, taking me up the west side of the peninsula, on the actual ride route. While the direct road left the ride route after Buncrana, I couldn't resist the urge to check out Mamore. I followed the route arrows instead. My reasoning was that seeing at least part of the route first would put my fears to rest and I'd see that I had nothing to be nervous about. It didn't quite work out that way.

Mamore is a monster! And we would be climbing the "easy" side! It's not very high, and it's not very long, but it makes up for that in sheer steepness. After a short, but not insignificant, climb into a beautiful, almost fully enclosed, valley you approach a crossroads. Turn left at the crossroads, where the race organisers had helpfully painted "Get Ready" on the road, and there it is. It rises up in an almost perfect curve, getting steeper and steeper as it climbs. And it intimidates you before you even start climbing. The fact that it's dead straight means you can't take it step by step like other climbs. The fact that there is no tree or hedge cover to hide the grandeur of the surrounding hills makes it feel like the mountain is taunting you into submission. The narrowness and poor surface of the road rules out the possibility of zigzagging up to lessen the gradient.

The Gap of Mamore

Clinging to optimism I noted that the car was only in second, not first, on the steepest bit, and that the gradient eased off slightly just before the top so if I could just get to there..... As I drove on I started to feel better. I can do it! I can fulfil my goal of getting up it without walking. I have to say that lying in bed later that night my optimism started to flag and I could feel the climb looming over me in my dreams!

But at least the weather looked good. The dramatic sky at Malin Head that evening boded well for the next day.

A dramatic evening at the top of Ireland. 

We had an early start on Sunday, for the drive back to Derry. As we hoped it was a glorious, calm morning and we got there in plenty of time for sign on. Apart from one rider from Naas, we seemed to be the only southern accents around but the atmosphere was welcoming and very friendly as we lined up for the off.

Ready to go

As expected, the bunch stayed together for the first, flat, part of the route to Buncrana. Approaching the town I wasn't surprised to see the legendary Joe Barr passing up the outside of the bunch on his way to the front. Last years Race Around Ireland winner is rumoured to be training for the Race Across America, so this would be a short training spin for him. I didn't expect to see him again that day!

Immediately out of Buncrana the climbing started and the group split and, as we gradually rose towards Dunree, we were now riding in a small group of riders. There was only one topic of conversation - Mamore! "Have you done it before?". "How are you going to ride it?". "What lowest gear do you have?" After seeing that lot's of people had triple chainsets or, at least, compact doubles, I was starting to doubt my choice of 39 X 28. I had started convinced that this would be enough but now wasn't so sure. I've only ever needed a 39 X 27 in Wicklow so this was very worrying!

Meanwhile the fantastic scenery was being ignored. In the early morning sunshine the low sea mist hanging down on Lough Swilly below us was a magical site.

May the fun begin.

We crested the rise into the valley and approached the fateful left hander. Around the corner I went and there was no going back! First impressions were that it looked even more intimidating from the saddle of a bike than from the seat of a car. But what could I do other than get into a groove and grind my way up.

The big surprise was that the "gentle" incline at the bottom was far less gentle than it looked. By a third of the way up I was already on the 28. There were no more gears to go. This hill really does play with your head!

By the kink in the road about half way up I was gasping for air and struggling with the gradient. Lot's of riders around me were now walking up. At least I was still riding. My next target was where the really, really, really steep bit eased off, by one really, to just really, really steep. I was inching closer but losing momentum the whole time. My head was swimming, my legs aching and my lungs were about to burst. I was actually groaning out loud, which I don't remember ever doing on a bike before.

Despite the urgings of the walkers I just couldn't keep it going. My foot was on the ground almost without my knowing it. I was gutted! My one objective for the day was to ride up this one and I felt like I'd failed. Looking up I could see that despite being only a short 150m or so from the top the gradient made it look like three times that. I've lost a lot of weight this year but I was obviously overgeared for a man of my size and fitness. It really was a case of so near and yet so far.

However, I wasn't finished yet. I got my lungs back into the their rightful place and decided to give it another go. But could I get started again on such a steep hill? There was one way to find out so I went for it. I got my foot clipped back into the pedal first time and managed to get some forward movement going. I was back on!

The pain started immediately. I was really struggling to move at all but then I heard my name being called. Kevin had started ahead of me on the climb and, being lighter, fitter and with a triple chainset, had obviously got up already. He was cheering me on and it was just what I needed. One last effort and I could look up to see the top right there. I'd made it. I might not have managed it in one go but at least the event photographer would get me on the bike and not walking. Once I was breathing again (!) I was even able to take a few snaps myself before moving on.

Almost there...

Of course what goes up must come down. We started down the other side together. The longer, equally steep side! Being a tall, heavy rider I've never been great on descents. I need more time to stop, and my centre of gravity is higher, but it hardly mattered on this one. Everyone was hard on the brakes from the top. Steep ramps, lots of corners, a narrow road and a very poor surface makes for nervous descending. It was no surprise to see two casualties on the way down. One was back up when we got to him but the other was deep in a ditch and was getting attention from the race crew. I heard later that he was OK but was taken to hospital as a precaution.

Starting the descent. It's a long way down.

After about three quarters of the descent, just before the final section of hairpins, it crossed my mind that the hot weather and constant braking could be a recipe for a blowout. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than Kevin pulled up with a puncture! At least I got to admire the view while he changed his tube.

Descending off Mamore

After the exertions of Mamore the next 20 miles or so of the ride were very pleasant. Riding through the quiet towns of Clonmany, Ballyliffen, Carndonagh and Malin in the sun was ideal. Left at the green in Malin village brought us along the dead flat Lagg coastline, towards the next climb overlooking Five Fingers Strand. This one looks awful as you approach it. You come around a corner and are faced with a seemingly sheer wall of grassy slopes on three sides, but somehow the road manages to wind it's way around at a reasonable gradient, until finally it emerges above the strand opening up breathtaking views over to the west of Donegal.

Along the coast at Lagg.

Looking down on Five Fingers Strand.

This time the descent was a bit more enjoyable. The roads was very narrow and gravelly but at least there were stretches where it was possible to roll for a bit and enjoy the view. About half way down, a woman taking photos at the side of the road up ahead looked familiar. It was my mother! She and my Dad happened to be in Donegal on holidays so they'd come out to cheer us on. That would come in very useful later, when the day started getting very warm and the distance between water sources lengthened. They appeared more than once with much needed drinks which certainly made a big difference to my state at the finish.

A much more ridable descent, despite the warnings.

Kevin leads me towards Malin Head. 

At the bottom of the hill was the village of Malin Head and the first food stop. There were plenty of sandwiches, soup, cakes, chocolate, tea and coffee to help ourselves to in the Crossroads Bar. Though I don't think the bar owner was too happy that the only requests over the bar from this big crowd would be to refill bidons with water. 

Suitable fortified we set off again and did the short loop around the spectacular Malin Head, passing the most Northerly Point in Ireland as we did so. At least from here the only way was south towards the finish. 

Approaching the tower at Malin Head. It's all south from here.

But there was a lot of work left to be done before then. And it started almost immediately. Just outside Malin Head the long, gradual climb to Glengad mountain started. This one wasn't anywhere near as challenging as some of the others but it did go on for a while. Towards the top we were caught by a group from the Bann Wheelers. These guys were looking serious but we did reckon we could get on the back of them for a bit, at least until the next climb. And what a blast that was. The descent from Glengad to Portaleen was taken at full speed sweeping around the many bends, until we were back at sea level and facing the short, steep climb away from the small fishing harbour. 

Following the Banns at Glengad.

I was a rookie on the i100 but Kevin had ridden before. He'd spoken to me about the upcoming climb from Kinnegoe Bay and must have been going mad from the number of times on a climb he had to tell me that "it's much harder than this one". It was funny then to hear him tell one very disappointed guy from Bann Wheelers, "No, this isn't Kinnegoe. It's much harder than this.". Meanwhile the poor guys mates were disappearing into the distance ahead of us.

We dropped down into Culdaff next. I was running out of water but didn't see a shop open. I stopped at the Caratra Bar, beside the beautiful beach where I'd been boogie boarding just a couple of weeks before. The lovely lady there, without my asking, started to pile ice into my bottle before topping it off with water. What bliss! The ice water hit the spot like you wouldn't believe! Mind you, the two guys drinking at the bar couldn't have looked more surprised if an alien had walked into their bar instead of a cyclist.

Onwards and upwards and we climbed a short, narrow but pretty steep climb past a caravan park. A family there were kind enough to applaud us through. It's amazing how that gives you a lift. The next steep descent was down to Tremone Bay. And of course, as was becoming a pattern now, dropping down to sea level means climbing up the other side. So we did. This one wasn't so steep either, although it did ramp up for a couple of short stretches, but it went on, and on, and on. And it STILL wasn't the by now almost mythical Kinnegoe Bay.

But that was next. We dropped down another very steep descent and Kevin pulled in among a load of parked cars to have a look at the gorgeous view over the Kinnegoe Bay beach. This was the scene of a famous Spanish Armada wreck but looked more like something from the Caribbean in the sunshine. It was tempting to give up the ride and jump in the turquoise water, especially since my icy bottle was empty already.

The stunning Kinnegoe Bay.

But there was to be no swimming for us. Instead we started the dreaded final climb of the day right away. The first stretch away from the beach was fiercely steep. It switched back on itself a few times as it virtually scaled the cliffs. But there was some joy as we turned one of the corners to see Mum standing there with water bottles. She'd scoured the area for a shop and finally managed to get two small bottles from a cafe. It wasn't much but every little helped.

From there the road rose in a straight ramp before dropping down slightly as it turned into a big valley. And that was when I realised exactly what Kevin had been talking about. The first part, which we'd just come up, was one of the worst of this stretch of coastal climbs but now we were looking up at a mountain. I could see the road snaking right up to a peat ridge, high above us. As if to reinforce my thoughts there was another "Get Ready" painted on the road here. Now where had I seen that before? 

Adding to the difficulty was the heat in the valley. There was literally no air as we slowed to a crawling pace. The main thing keeping me going was the thought that a) this is the last climb and b) there was a food/water stop down the other side in Greencastle. Onwards and upwards, we again came on several riders walking, especially as the gradient steepened towards the top. But finally the top did come and we had an amazing view down to the mouth of Lough Foyle and across to Northern Ireland. Even better, there was Mum again with more water. What an angel! We even picked some fraughans from the side of the road for some extra sugar.

Kevin feasts on fraughans overlooking Lough Foyle.

A fast descent to Greencastle and much needed coffee, water, energy drinks and Mars bars. The relief here was palpable. There was still almost a quarter of the 103 miles to go but the climbs were over and the light wind was, if anything, going to be behind us heading home. 

We kept a steady pace on the main road to Muff, via Moville and Quigleys Point, accelerating hard at one stage in a vain attempt to latch on to a Carn Wheelers quartet riding flat out in a team time trial to the finish. But what was the rush at that stage. Through Muff we took a right and it was a short four miles of country roads back across the border to Derry. We rounded a few suburban roundabouts until the Templemore Sports Center was in sight and we were finished. Time to collect our certificate and t-shirt and reflect on a job well done.

Crossing the line. We made it.

Overall I felt good at the finish. I certainly had a lot more energy left than I had after the same distance in Meath a few weeks ago. This was a harder course but then we kept a steadier pace and enjoyed the fine weather. 103 miles in just under seven hours is far from record breaking pace but, given the challenges, we were more than happy.

Finally, a word about the event. It was a very well run day and probably the friendliest event I've ridden so far. Apart from the good humour at the start/finish and food stops, it was very encouraging to have cars pass from time to time asking if we were OK. Route marking was excellent, especially to warn of hazards, and major junctions were marshalled. There was also a photographer out on the course who's pics will be available online soon (I'll post a link when they appear). Add that to the high quality cert and t-shirt and we have plenty of mementoes to take away. All in all, a great days cycling. Having had to stop on Mamore I've got unfinished business with this course so I might well be back!

Paris to Geneva Cycle Challenge - Update

Congratulations to Fionnan and his colleagues who completed their ride from Paris to Geneva in one piece last week. Fionnan sent this message and pic:

Over 570kms over 4 days (due to bonus miles thrown in due to wrong turns)! We finished on Wednesday with a climb up and over the Jura Mountains and Col de la Faucille as featured in 10 previous Tour de France's. It was both the toughest cycle and most exhilarating as you descended from the Col to Geneva at up to 65kms per hour on sharp turns that you could not do here. No accidents or incidents amongst the 40 cyclists and apart from sore body parts all got through with all compliments to the Irish Hospice Foundation.



This was year 2 of a cycle "tour" challenge and rose over €300,000 of which approx €4,000 was raised from my work colleagues, family, clients, advisors and friends. I got confirmation of further donations along the way by email which was also much appreciated. The sponsor page will remain open for 2 months for any additional support - no matter what size.

Once again, many thanks for your support.

Donate here: http://www.mycharity.ie/event/parisgeneva2010/

Top 30 cyclists of all time clips

Found these on YouTube. I certainly don't agree with the compilers choice of riders or the rankings and I reckon the palmares are not all correct.

But on the other hand there's some great old footage in them. Magni pulling the bars with his teeth, Kellys dreadul hardshell helmet, Hinault riding to Liege in the snow, etc, etc, etc. And there're some inspired music choices too. Don't Stop Believing for Ullrich and Bad to the Bone for Hinault - brilliant!!

Enjoy.

Part 1: From 30 to 21



Part 2: From 20 to 11



Part 3: The Top 10

An Post Heritage Tour Of Meath

Today I'm weary. My legs are a bit sore and, when I cycled to the bank this afternoon, some of the areas in contact with the saddle were a bit tender! The reason for this wreckage is that yesterday I completed the 160km (or 100 mile) An Post Heritage Tour of Meath. Actually it was closer to 166km, making it the longest day in the saddle for me since I got back on the bike two years ago.

I had intended riding this event last year but back spasms intervened. Knowing what I know now it was probably just as well I didn't. I'm a lot fitter, and a bit lighter, this year but still found it tough going.

Not that the route had any big climbs or other major obstacles. It just rolled incessantly. Up and down the hillocks and drumlins of North County Meath it went, requiring constant gear changes and giving you no chance to find a rhythm. By the finish the terrain and the relatively fast pace (for me!) had me worn out.

The day started early, myself, Stephen and Kevin arriving in Trim by 7:30am. After some cross-country, Wacky Races style confusion we got our spot in the fast-filling parking field behind Trim Castle. From there it was a short walk to the Trim Castle hotel and sign on. Back in the field we met up with Kevins mate, Alan and, after the usual "what should I wear" and "will it or won't it rain" discussions we were on our way to the start line.


And what a sight it was. Hundreds of riders of all shapes and sizes, young and old, lined up under a grey sky, ready to start their 160km or 100km days. Music played (at 8am!), announcers announced and, finally, the flag dropped and we were off under the yellow An Post arch.
The four amigos ready for the off.
A sea of helmets snaking back from the yellow start/finish arch
We were starting pretty far back and, as any rider knows, it's always better to be near the front, especially when there's hills coming. So ex-sprinter Stephen used his best gap-squeezing experience and, with me on his wheel, quickly got us to closer to the front in plenty of time for the first rise at Tara. The pace was pretty high and I was on the big ring, although I couldn't help thinking I might pay for that later in the day.

The road past Bective was relatively flat. Then, a sharp left had us on the approach to Tara which, as expected, posed little problem to most of those gathered near the front. It looked like a big climb on the profile but, in reality, it's a short ramp followed by a recently resurfaced drag to the tourist site at the top. In fact, when Alan came up to me, about ten kilometres later, he didn't realise we'd already been over it.
The final drag to Tara.
After the descent off Tara we followed a mix of relatively big roads and some very minor lanes towards Slane. In fact one stretch of roughly surfaced, rolling lane, complete with grass down the middle, would have looked from the air like a stretch of Paris-Roubaix cobbles. There were two long lines of riders snaking down each side, almost in the gutter, with no-one able to ride in the middle. Short, steep ramps and descents, the fast pace and lot's of gravel-strewn corners meant there was little time to relax and chat with the others, but it was exciting riding nonetheless. The only complaint I had was that I didn't get to a toilet before the start. The bumpy roads were playing havoc with my bladder but there was no time to stop while the bunch was moving at that speed.

There were lot's of these short rises to be gotten over.
Finally, we emerged from the lanes and out on the main road before Slane. We took the long, sweeping descent to the beautiful, old Boyne bridge at speed and then it was on to the steep climb to Slane village. It's not long but it was still a relief to take the left turn at the top. Five kilometres or so of gradual drag further on an it was time for the first water stop of the day at Gormalough Cross. Although water stop was an understatement. There was no shortage of water, cereal bars and bananas being handed out by a great team of smiling volunteers and, thankfully for me, a pub whose toilets were available for our use.

After a brief stop the four of us had regrouped and were off again. Gradually we picked up more riders, making the rolling stretch to Kells a very pleasant ride at a much more sustainable pace than earlier in the day.

The first feed stop proper in Kells was upon us in no time. Entering the GAA hall, we were greeted by a mountain of sandwiches, chocolate cakes and water bottles. There was a small queue forming at the tea and coffee table, but we were near the front. The woman there was apologising profusely that the kettles weren't boiled yet as they hadn't expected so many to arrive so soon. Showing the great resourcefulness you always find when a community comes together to support an event, she even seriously suggested to a colleague that they could always knock on the doors of surrounding houses and get the kettle on in each. By the time the hot water arrived the queue was getting seriously long but she kept smiling and everyone got a friendly word.
Glad we got in ahead of that queue.
Back on the road, we rode through the centre of Kells, even getting some applause from a family looking on. We were nearly half way round now, but the climb out of the town was tougher than expected, especially as our legs were only getting warmed up again. The headwind we were now riding into didn't help.

A little down the road another small group formed, including a guy in An Post gear. Stephen came up beside me and pointed to his shoes. Or lack of them! He was riding in what looked like slippers. Stephen got in beside him to find out what was going on. Turned out he'd had a few too many the night before and, in his foggy state that morning, had left without his shoes. What a man! Not only was he riding the 100km route in his casual shoes, but he was doing it with a hangover.
Spot the SPD slippers.
After passing through several more well marshalled junctions, remembering to shout thanks to the folks standing at each one, we arrived at the point where the 160 and 100 routes split. Unfortunately for us most of the group took a left turn back to Trim, while only the four of us took the right turn towards Oldcastle. We climbed a long drag on a good road to Crossakiel, but then it was back on to the lanes. We were getting in to the more remote corners of County Meath, even nudging in to County Cavan for a short time, and the road surface was noticeably deteriorating. Gravel filled potholes were becoming the norm and the rolling hills just kept coming at us. I've read some comments on message boards today criticizing the use of such rough back roads but, for me, that's what riding in Ireland is all about. Who wants to spend the day dodging speeding traffic on long, straight, windswept main roads, smooth as they might be?

Just before Oldcastle the inevitable happened. I could hear the unmistakeable phht-phht-phht hissing from Alan in front of me. Puncture! We'd come this far together so, without having to think about it, we all pulled in to a driveway and Alan got to work while we took in the view of Loughcrew, the next hill we'd be climbing, and got a few pics of passing riders. Thankfully that turned out to the only mechanical of the day between the four of us so that was a result.
Where's the neutral service car when you need it.
Loughcrew with the ancient burial mound visible on top.
Lone riders, enjoying their day.
Clubmates from Dundalk's Oriel Wheelers keep each other company
Just after we got moving again, a chap wearing SportActive kit came up from behind with a camera in his hand. He fired off a few shots of us and called out that we'd be able to see them on his website. Job done he upped his pace and headed off to catch the next group in front. Alan very astutely wondered why he started at the back and worked his way forward taking pics. Surely starting at the front and working back would be a lot easier! You can see those pics by clicking here.
Who's shooting who?
Next stop was Oldcastle for the second, and final, feed stop of the day. This one was a lot more sparsely populated than the Kells one, with a smaller mountain of sandwiches but plenty of hot water for coffee. We had a very pleasant chat with the father of an old racing friend, talking about our times racing against (or, more accurately, behind) his son and also how his grandson is now making a name for himself in the junior ranks. Brian Arrigan is the mans name and, at the age of 70, he was happily working his way around the course at his own pace. Cycling really is a sport for life.

Coming back out we were greeted by a fine drizzle. Just what we needed! It didn't take long to get to the sharp left hand turn for the climb up to Loughcrew. This was billed as the big climb of the day and it was a deceptive one. It started up a relatively wide minor road but quickly narrowed to a "dual cabbageway" with a good growth of grass down the centre.
The first slope of the Loughcrew climb.
A bit further up the dual cabbageway.
As it got more and more overgrown the hardest thing about it was trying to avoid slipping on the grass in the centre, while keeping far enough out from the hedge to clear the massive nettles poking out from the undergrowth. It didn't look, or feel, particularly steep but I still found myself dropping down through the gears as I went up and couldn't get up out of the saddle without my rear wheel slipping on the greasy surface. Finally we emerged into a car park beside the ancient burial mounds and a short flat section led to the equally greasy, and much steeper, descent down the other side.
Riding past the burial mounds on Loughcrew.
I think Trim is this way.
Heart stopping moments on the way down
I've never been a small rider but one of the interesting things about being a bit(!) heavier now is the effect gravity has on descents. So a slippery, narrow, steep, twisty drop can be a heart stopping experience. Let's just say I took it a bit handier than normal on the way down.

We had a few more miles to do into the wind, with the by now obligatory, short, steep ramps coming thick and fast, before we finally turned towards home and got that wind behind us for the final quarter of the ride. There were the four of us and two other guys sitting on the back. Stephen decided we should be properly sharing the pace so we four started going up and over. Eventually the other two joined in, making six of us, working together to keep a fast, wind assisted pace. Every time I came through my speedo was showing 20mph plus which, after 80 odd miles, is fast enough for weekend warriors. The route profile showed that we were pretty much descending all the way to Trim but, take it from me, it was the most uphill descent I've ever ridden. To be fair the road did drop gradually most of the way but there were enough short rises to hurt our tired legs.

Coming towards Kildalkey I was showing the 160km just about done but the road signs weren't so co-operative. They were saying we had 7km to go. My legs were seriously hurting at this point so the extra kilos were not welcome to me. Coming through Kildalkey, with Trim castle in sight in the distance, a sharp left turn forced the group to slow in front of me. The resulting acceleration out of the bend by the guys did it for me. My legs had had enough. I let the wheel go and resigned myself to cruising the last few minutes to the finish. Alan was suffering too so he eased up with me and we followed a short distance behind the others.

Finally we were on the streets of Trim and through the barriers onto the closed Castle Street to take the finish. What a relief it was to pass under the yellow arch and claim the finishers medal, t-shirt and goody-bag. Kevin decided to take advantage of the free massage on offer but I was too tired and hungry to wait. I got back to the car and simply lay down on the grass until I could muster some strength to get myself changed and struggle getting my bike on the roofrack!

Overall I can't praise the organisation of the event enough. It seemed to me that a small army of volunteers were working to facilitate our adventure through Meath. Every junction was marshalled, major ones by Gardai, so we never had to stop for traffic. All of the feed stops were very well supplied so we didn't go hungry or thirsty. Sign-on and the finish area were well staffed so we didn't have any waiting around. And best of all there were some shorter "family" rides organised while we were out on the road. Those rides, and a collection of market stalls set up around the finish area, meant this was a real community event and not just a day out for a bunch of lycra clad sadists. Well done to all.