(UPDATE 11/10/10)

Hi All,

Coast to Coast complete....ass in bits....bike dirty....self esteem....high!!!

Myself and my good friend and nemesis rolled into one Deon Bryan did this event, both for Cancer Research. I have to admit right now that really I should have paid this event the respect it deserves in terms of training, however just completing it with my fairly low level of fitness, I feeling really confident for the 24 hour challenge next year. That been said, and not losing sight of the reason we are doing this, that being to raise cash to help make cancer a thing of the past, let me go though the event in some detail. There are photo’s posted on facebook at:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=25121&id=846309592&l=deb09f30c0

Day 1

First thanks to my wife, Kathryn and Deon’s fiancée Catrin for running us to Whitehaven on Saturday morning. We both understand it was a pain but at least you got to drive back.....no doubt bitching the entire way....world’s smallest violin ladies...

We left Durham 09.30 on Saturday morning under wet and overcast conditions. Moral was already a little low. Deon paid his customary 12 visits to the toilet and I did my best to stop my ever increasing gut showing through the tightness that is lycra. We secured the bikes and decided if it wasn’t packed now it wasn’t going to get packed. I took a moment to frape Deon during visit 11 to the bog, and then we left. It rained persistently until Carlisle, and then it slowly started to brighten until we reached Whitehaven and the glorious glorious sunshine.....21°. Quickly we donned safety kit, dipped the wheels, and said our fond farewells’ and headed east.

The going was slow getting out of Whitehaven....it didn’t help that we both needed a toilet visit and only got as far as Homebase before stop 1....pointless as there were no customer toilets. Bushes on route we to suffice from then on in! My biggest memories of stage 1 are broken glass, lots of shit (Horse, dog, some unidentified) and flies. Every marker we came to had been vandalised in some manner and groups of middle aged men were drinking cans of cheap high alcohol beer in dark tunnels like a set of backward teenage delinquents’. The path was flat, tarmac, and for the most part under tree cover interspaced with occasional connections through dodgy council estates with more broken glass and dog shit. I mention this as I firstly don’t have a mudguard, and secondly, at this point I was still a puncture virgin, and did not fancy changing a tyre in either of these estates or changing a tyre I inadvertently ran through faeces’ with. We headed on our jolly way joking at how easy this was, as we exited the trees and saw a serrated edge of mountains ahead of us....high mountains....we started climbing following Cleaton Moor and stopped for pictures*  at Kelton Fell Top of Ennerdale Water (A mere 295m climb). As we headed to the top of this climb riding side by side a car came over a blind summit, we darted to either side and allowed the car to pass. Deon cycled alongside me and in a moment of stupidity Dean, much to my glee, forgot to unclip from his pedals and started his inevitable fall from grace and ate tarmac. How we (I) laughed!! On a serious note I was pleased he fell first....these things happen with alarming regularity. The only issue was he whinged like a girl due to a tiny graze, a nano graze really, you needed a microscope to see it.

The scenery just got better, although we were on slick tyres we decided to follow the correct route and had a short stretch through a forest which had a lot of rocks and mud paths....I could almost feel my puncture virginity leaving me and was sorely wishing I brought two inner tubes but lady luck was on my side and I successfully ran the off road gauntlet with my puncture virginity intact. As we closed in on Keswick the day had been totally worth it.

We stayed at the Twa Dogs Inn and following a drink and bite to eat we hit the town...quiet...very quiet...until 10 when we were at the point of going back and preparing for the 45 miles to Alston, when Keswick got interesting. Following a few more drinks than was probably sensible we went on a quest for food. Three separate locals told us we had no chance of food this close to 1 am however we persevered and exited a pizza shop victorious with a hot and spicy large deep pan pizza with extra chillies and a bottle of water, which at this point was the only sensible decision we had made all evening.  As we walked home blaming one another for our poor choices of the evening the ordeal of hartside summit began to set in and a quiet descended on us.

Day 2

Breakfast was at 09.00 and we decided to load up on the full greasy option that so successfully had combated hangovers in the past. Conversation revolved around ‘what were we thinking??’ and joking about the nights events. We finished packing, I added a second inner tube and lots of energy gels and we set off. The plus was we were starting on the hardest day, 45 miles, Hartside Summit and the hangover from Keswick. True skills. Although I was keen to get started, Don was also keen...to use the toilet....a lot. I actually think he needs to see a doctor.

The road out of Keswick was flat, gravelly and easy going. This went on for about 10 miles and as we were heading along the route the hills ahead loomed. As we cycled over undulating country lanes with an irritating amount of gates Don fell to Earth again while shutting a gate. I had seen him wobble and attempted to help however my good intention of stabilising and preventing his descent turned in to a perfectly executed right hook to the jaw. Sitting on the ground, not amused at me for laughing and taking pictures, Don ground his teeth. I knew at this point I could not fall or certainly not in his presence.

We arrived into Penrith and nearly took the wrong route to Appleby. We cycled the wrong direction about 300 metres and then I decided to consult the map (Thank you Dora). Mistake was noted and we turned back. The actual route out of Penrith is up a 25% incline that seems to go on forever, though a posh street of houses. I wished we kept going to Appleby. I took a lot of pictures. At the top the road flattened off but from this point on we were climbing. We stopped in Langwathby and attended the cafe at the train station for a full Sunday roast, perfect preparation for the climb to come.

It is worth noting that the weather once again was excellent, 22° and clear blue skies. Sitting at our bench, feeling full and content in the warm sun we had a 30 minute rest and then saddled up for Hartside. As soon as we left my heart rate increased in anticipation for what I perceived to be the ‘crux’ of the trip. Clearly focused on a beer at the cafe at the top I gritted me teeth and dug in. Lunch was not sitting well, maybe another poor decision? Don has a good approach to hills...he doesn’t stop...for anything, cars, people, pain, dead animals...he’s like a robot just keeps going. I on the other hand had a responsibility to take pictures....lots of pictures. As we started, we climbed 190m, then dropped 180m, then climbed 210m and dropped 190m....this went on for ages, I tell you all I wanted was to get up the bloody hill but it did not seem to get any nearer and every time we went up we promptly went down again. Also the wind had started to increase. Wind proofs were donned and we started on yet another climb, but this was somewhat steeper and the wind was in our faces, we continued to climb and in the distance we could see our objective....the Cafe at the top. The wind grew stronger and I took more pics. Don carried on and was about 300m ahead as I joined the main road signifying the final stage of the climb, legs burning, Camera SD card full, gels depleted, water depleted I cracked on feeling like a bemused rabbit as the wind prevented my correct breathing cycle and then disaster happened, a curve ball from Aeolus himself.....git.

At this point I must add I was happy Don was so far ahead. Also the following was not due to human error but rather the elements getting the better of a tired and hung-over body. The road to the summit is a busy road and a little worrying. I stayed as close to the edge as I could but the wind caught me and my front wheel stopped on a curb. I could feel myself going over to the left and tried to ‘bunny hop’ the bike upright  which, somewhat unfortunately, had the polar opposite effect of making the dam thing fall to the right...onto the road....all I can say is I have a guardian angel. I hit the tarmac and kicked off my bike (I have this to a fine art) and rolled to the edge. A car was bearing down on my position. He seen me...nothing I could do about that. I got up and quickly scanned around for other witnesses and Don....none. Thank you god. I hoped on the bike and continued, shaken up but determined not to let that happen again. Must pedal faster. I arrived at the summit, shaken and bloodied (Proper blooded not like Dons pseudo scratch) And to be clear...I did not actually fall...I was blown, (I am aware of the connotations) so....let’s put this episode in a box and leave it to gather dust over in the corner and lets never speak of it again.

At the top I did not feel like beer so had a brew instead. Filled up water and got some chaps we met on the way to get the relevant pics of us at the summit. Then we started the last 7 miles, all downhill to the digs. It was awesome. Downhill I am brilliant. Arrived at digs, beer bought, aches soaked and headed to bar for a meal, quiz and raffle which we won. Well I say won, we won a prize. Well I say a prize I mean a tin of cheap biscuits.

Before I go on....the guys who took our pics at the top...they were staying in our digs as well....When approached w.r.t. to the quiz they ducked out....as they were leaving they told us with wide grins it was a church quiz, Guys...thanks for leaving it so late to let us know. And I hope you enjoyed bumming each other. I have never heard so many Cliff Richard questions. You are truly a pair of twats.

Hartside was over. The journey for me was over, the worst completed and I could look forward to gentle cycle home and the gentle wind flowing though our hair as we laughed at how easy this task was. Those of you who know me also know how often I get it so very,very wrong.

Day 3

Then it was morning. Kit packed, water filled and we prepared for the 36 miles back to mine with another large fried breakfast, if nothing else we do not learn, but then again what was to learn today was going to be easy. (We did toy with the idea of finishing, and we could have but I am a dedicated father and had a parents evening, my middle daughters first so it looked unlikely...that is how good a father I am) While Don was making full and extended use of the toilet facilities I came up with a unified theory on perpetual motion and its application as a clean generator of energy.

It was left out of the digs and right to head home, right on to a large, cobblestoned hill....breakfast was repeating, arms and bones jarring and head perspiring. It seemed to last forever, my legs were burning as I reached the top and turned left with relief.....onto another hill. Are you having a laugh?? This is meant to be easy.....this was the hardest start so far. We climbed hill after hill wondering what the hell was going on, lots of pics, THEN I saw a pub I had been to before and realised firstly, how far we were from our objective and secondly, the severity of the hills yet to come. Gutted and demoralised I cracked on; we reached the top of another summit and looked at the map. The next three legs were steep, followed by very steep. On we went, ignore the jibes of a couple of bikers (of the motor variety) instructing us to pedal faster and finally reached another summit on the Pennines (An area of Outstanding Natural Beauty). Another check of the map and there it was, we had reached the highest point of the national Cycle network. And we could feel it in every fibre of our bodies. Look I have to say so far this day was not going as planned, even Don, super fit extraordinaire was struggling (Although I do wonder if he was just saying that to make me feel better). There was one point where I had to don my ‘skull cap’ to attend to the wind freezing my head, and when I looked up Don had gone....left me....like a lamb to the slaughter. I cycled on and came to a crossroads where I still could not see my mucker. Now it has to be said it was not clear what way to go, I knew where I was and still looked twice....of course there was only one route, why, when we have a downhill, a flat and a massive steep hill, do I have to be directed up the latter????????? I started the climb and a round the first corner there was a 100-200 m stretch and there was no sign of Don. He did this yesterday so I pursued him up the 20% incline, then the next stretch was 300m+ no sign.  At this point I began to worry but I had just climbed 130m, this is vertical height not distance, so my main concerns were:

Well yes I do care but not enough to go down and up again, I decided to carry on and call him from the top. One slight problem, almost not worth mentioning, no phone signal. Fortunately as I neared the top Don wearing his inconspicuous top rounded a corner and waved (pathetic wave really but who am I to judge as I was sweating like Chilean miner with a duffle coat on) and I was assured that I didn’t have to go look for him.  At the top we re-united like when the ‘Flight of the Conchords’ got back together after that pie bitch split them. I just wish there was pies.....and beer.....mmmmm......beer.

With one exception it was pretty much downhill to Stanhope where we stopped and had a bite to eat. There was a touch paper moment when I could not find a toilet and some local yobs turned a sign round and I had to walk miles in the wrong direction but let’s not ponder on another weak aspect of my persona...

The day’s final leg started with the aptly named ‘Crawleyside Bank’ denoted on the map by steep, leading to very steep, leading to extremely very steep followed by extremely extremely very very steep. Awful, is a good word, and that is all I have to say about it. Lots of pics.

We headed over the moors heading steadily downhill to Consett. We joined Waskerley Way and did the final 3 miles to Consett Morrison’s and headed to my house. We got ready and headed out to town for wine. When we were suitably inebriated headed back to mine for curry.

Day 4 (More of a half day really)

The next morning we got ready and I waited on Don having his customary 15 visits to the WC (Don...Doctor), arranged to met the girls at Whitley Bay (I know we only had to get to Tynemouth but that’s just the way we roll) and departed on the final 29 miles. It was looking good as we arrived in Newcastle after 57 minutes, we were at Wallsend in 93 minutes but the final stretch to Tynemouth seemed to drag on forever but finally we neared the castle that denoted the end point. As we planned to meet the women in Whitley Bay for fish and chips we carried on another two miles and rather than end there and then locked up the bikes and had a large portion of well deserved fish and chips, with tea, mushy peas and stottie. We then headed to the beach and dipped our wheels and with this action ended our adventure.

Even though all of the road and dubious riding conditions I remain a puncture virgin!!! Woo Hoo!!!!

I realise there is little on the last leg but really I live there and to me it’s boring. The action is in the adventure in the places you don’t know. I have, and would like too, thank Don. A man I am proud and privileged to consider my best mate. He is a bit gay though.

Through this mini adventure I want to thank everyone who has donated as usual I will mail you all.

Next year I plan, as discussed, the C2C 24 hour challenge, an Olympic tri, the St. Bee’s to Robin Hood Bay ride, the Edinburgh Marathon and of course....and thank YOU Mr Howland.....TOUGH GUY NETTLE WARRIOR.