The Olympics proved us Brits are good at cycling. It must be in our blood, which makes sense because that seems to be how most people have been taking on the Tour de France for the past several years. But I maybe had a transfusion because I cannot work out how exactly does one prepares for cycling about 100 miles per day for 5 days on your own from the most southerly to the most northerly point of Ireland?
I'm not sure you can physically and the logistics need to be flexible. I have a start point and a bed for the first night, an end point with a return flight booked and a map but no idea of the bit in between. As few clothes are packed as possible to still cover all eventualities (although let's face it, it will be wet). I need to take my bike apart to take it on the plane and don't know if I can reassemble it. This is a state of organised disorganisation.
But I want to do this. I wanted the challenge of a bike ride between a coutry's extremes. Lands End to John o'Groats was just too far for holiday entitlement to allow and Ireland is the perfect alternative. It has enough in common with home to be familiar and enough differences to be exciting. I have never been there before and my first experience will be the villages and towns that hug its west coast. I do not have to worry about making myself understood if I get lost or when trying to find dinner or a bed for the night and they drive on the left. I don't even need an electricity adapter. Am I convincing you or me here?
The big fear for me, over ad above the cars and mountains and wind and rain is that next week, for hours on end, I will be alone with my thoughts and I don't know where that will take me. I may discover a cure for all the worlds ills, I may come back with zen like serenity, I may come back mad. Most likely though is that the only changes will be physical - slightly bandier legs and needing a cushion with a hole in the middle.
Saturday, 13 September 2008
Friday, 12 September 2008
Cirrhosis of the River*
Rowing Regattas take place in the sunshine. Everybody knows that. Men in striped blazers stroll along the river bank next to women carrying parasols that maintain their English rose complexion. The races are the physical exertion equivalent to a sonnet, graceful, rhythmic and honourable. It is all very respectable but has sufficient underlying sexual tension to fill a novel, be made into a BBC costume drama and launch the career of a couple of plum mouthed thespians.
So, what was I doing just after 11am in the pouring rain kneeling 5th back in an adapted rowing boat (a dongola) wearing a light blue polo shirt emblazoned with images of alcohol and being glared at ferociously by the man who had just been thrown from his dongola into the Thames after it had cut directly across us whilst his crew claimed the crash was our fault?
Dongoling is a pretty simple concept. Think mini dragon boat racing and you get pretty close. Two or three crews of 6 people, at least 2 of whom have to be women, kneel behind each other on alternate sides of the boat and paddle with (in theory) powerful, well-timed strokes over a course of about 100 metres. The person at the front of the boat times the strokes, everybody else follow his lead and the person at the back steers when necessary. First across the line wins.
We were The Weekenders, from the front of the boat we were Paul, Jo, Chris, Kirstie, Denzil and Hal (our expert and captain). We had practiced. We had got somewhere towards the technique Hal had described. We had developed a rhythm and, I would suggest, almost achieved a level of adequacy. We had got a bye to the semi-finals. We had gone to pieces. We had lost our timing. We had been knocked out after our first race.
I can try to rationalise it - we were beaten by the eventual winner of the Regatta, when we had got our timing together we had been closing on them and those bastards cut us up – but it didn’t take away the frustration of losing. My participation in the regatta, my competitive dongoling career comprised maybe 2 minutes of (on my part) frenetic, talentless splashing and a crash. More “Spot Goes Dongoling” than “Dongoling and Dongolability”
Still, unlike the weather, the circumstances had a bright side. When you have written a day off for a regatta and nature cheats you and makes it cold and wet, when you have been knocked out of a regatta early in irritating circumstances but you planned provisions for the day, when you are with a good group of people and there is a pub just across the river…….I’ll leave you to work out the rest, your imagination is probably more reliable than my memory on this one.
*I can’t claim credit for this pun – it was the name of another dongoling team.
So, what was I doing just after 11am in the pouring rain kneeling 5th back in an adapted rowing boat (a dongola) wearing a light blue polo shirt emblazoned with images of alcohol and being glared at ferociously by the man who had just been thrown from his dongola into the Thames after it had cut directly across us whilst his crew claimed the crash was our fault?
Dongoling is a pretty simple concept. Think mini dragon boat racing and you get pretty close. Two or three crews of 6 people, at least 2 of whom have to be women, kneel behind each other on alternate sides of the boat and paddle with (in theory) powerful, well-timed strokes over a course of about 100 metres. The person at the front of the boat times the strokes, everybody else follow his lead and the person at the back steers when necessary. First across the line wins.
We were The Weekenders, from the front of the boat we were Paul, Jo, Chris, Kirstie, Denzil and Hal (our expert and captain). We had practiced. We had got somewhere towards the technique Hal had described. We had developed a rhythm and, I would suggest, almost achieved a level of adequacy. We had got a bye to the semi-finals. We had gone to pieces. We had lost our timing. We had been knocked out after our first race.
I can try to rationalise it - we were beaten by the eventual winner of the Regatta, when we had got our timing together we had been closing on them and those bastards cut us up – but it didn’t take away the frustration of losing. My participation in the regatta, my competitive dongoling career comprised maybe 2 minutes of (on my part) frenetic, talentless splashing and a crash. More “Spot Goes Dongoling” than “Dongoling and Dongolability”
Still, unlike the weather, the circumstances had a bright side. When you have written a day off for a regatta and nature cheats you and makes it cold and wet, when you have been knocked out of a regatta early in irritating circumstances but you planned provisions for the day, when you are with a good group of people and there is a pub just across the river…….I’ll leave you to work out the rest, your imagination is probably more reliable than my memory on this one.
*I can’t claim credit for this pun – it was the name of another dongoling team.
Thursday, 11 September 2008
Housekeeping
I've been more than a bit rubbish at keeping this blog up to date over the last month so there are quite a few outstanding bits and pieces to be dealt with. A barrage of posts are likely to be going up over the next few days but firstly I am going to deal with a few quickies - get ready for a hyperlink attack:
- 3 Men in a Boat Challenge - pictures now posted. Look how sunny it was, hopes were raised for a long hot summer. Now we realise that week was summer.
- Short Story Challenge - One I haven't mentioned before but back in April i entered a short story into an international competition. I got the result back recently and needless to say I didn't win but the challenge was completed by entering. Anyway, I'm going to tweak the story a bit and try again. If no luck then I might just try to find a website I can put it on and link it back to this blog - stay tuned (or even subscribe) and read my Chekhovian stylings.
- Article in the National Press Challenge - Turns out the article can be read online so if you were too tight/late to buy a copy read it here for free.
- New Qualification Challenge - I got sidetracked on this one as it requires a little bit of research, which I hadn't expected. The coursework will be finished in the next week or so then I just have to sit my exam and I will be sufficiently qualified to tell you exactly what bus route leads to my restaurant.
- Some new friends - two additions to the Wall of Gratitude: First up is Chris who has accompanied me on 3 Men and 3 Peaks. Not only has he parasitised these but also done some challenges of his own to raise money for Emma's Bubble Trust. It is a good cause and he has a justgiving page so click through if you want to support him. However, if I find anybody sponsoring him who hasn't sponsored me then I will get all huffy. Second is Laurie Lambrecht, a photographer who I had the good fortune to sit next to on my flight to New York. Not only is she a fascinating person who advised me on a lot of things to do whilst I was there but she is also a very talented artist. Check out the stunning Lake Trees collection.
- Triathlon - I apologise for the skimpy outfit I am wearing in the photos that are now up. You can also access a breakdown of my time and placings for the event in relation to overall, gender, category, discipline and whatever. It pretty much sums up what I already knew, as a general rule I am average. However I confess to being pretty chuffed with my my placing in the run (top 8% of all competitors including the elite athletes) and my division (9th out of 411 men age 30-34). And to end on a downer, it turns out the NY Triathlon had its first death this year. It was somebody in my division which makes it rather poignant for me, not least because he may well have been standing in the pen next to me at the start, I certainly didn't see anything ahead of me when I was swimming. Mind you my goggles were fogged up (sorry, I didn't want it to be too morbid).
Wednesday, 10 September 2008
24 - Series 7 - The 3 Peaks
The following events take place between 3.15 and 7.28pm.
Denzil, Kelly and Chris are in the Ben Nevis Visitors Centre. They approach a bald old man not dissimilar in looks, voice and, as it turns out, personality to Private Fraser from Dad’s Army.
Chris - What’s the weather like at the summit?
Fraser - You’ll be best coming back tomorrow at 8am when we will have a more precise forecast.
Chris - We were planning on climbing it now.
Fraser - You have to give yourself 4 hours up and 3 hours back. It will be dark on your descent and you won’t leave any time to be rescued if you get injured. It is bitingly cold up there at the moment and visibility is no more than 10 metres. You really would be making a big mistake going up now – it would be different if you were doing the 3 Peaks…
Denzil - We are
Kelly - And I’m driving so won’t be holding them back.
Fraser - Aye, you got the short straw did ya? You won’t be smiling when you are driving down to Scafell and these two are snoring away. So it’s the 3 Peaks is it? You need to be up and down in 5 hours, any more than 5 and a half and you don’t have a chance but take a lot of water because below the cloud line it is hot and people yesterday were dehydrating and it was much less humid than today. You might want to rethink though because, to be honest, it’s shit up there. Have you climbed the mountains before.
Chris - Yes
Chris buys a map of the summit and they leave the old man to sell souvenir haggis to tourists.
Denzil - I’m willing to admit I’m quite scared now but we haven’t just driven all this way to not even start this. Have you really climbed the mountains before Chris?
Chris – No [Cut to Commercials]
Chris and Denzil cross a bridge, Ben Nevis looms in front of them. The official start time is 3.30pm. The path splits:
Chris: We need to go South East. Where’s the sun? [Looks up] Ok, this way.
Denzil looks at his compass, nods and follows Chris as they climb the steep but well defined path up Ben Nevis in near silence. Chris leads at an impressive pace, they sweat profusely in the late afternoon sun. Cut to Kelly sitting outside the Visitor’s Centre planning the drive to Scafell Pike. Fraser walks up to her.
Fraser - I know the 3 Peaks route well, the first service station after you get on the M6 is perfect to stop at late at night.
Kelly - Are you from around here?
Fraser - Aye, I like walking in the foothills but I hate the mountain.
Kelly - Have you ever been up it?
Fraser - No
Chris and Denzil are now above the grass level, a stunning mountain lake is just behind them. A helicopter buzzes over head, they look up to see it is mountain rescue headed for the summit. The path has become loose shale and there are fewer people around. [Cut to Commercials]
Chris and Denzil are on the plateau at the summit. The cloud is thick. Sheer drops are on either side of them with cloud rising up from the edge.
Chris - That’s 5 Finger Gully. On the other side is the North East Face. You can see how close the path goes between them. That is why if the cloud comes in too much you can easily walk over the edge but visibility is good enough for us to stay on the path. [5 minutes more walking on the desolate and lifeless plateau] There’s the trig point, we are at the top. Although that hut over there looks higher.
Photos are taken and they sit on the trig point.
Denzil - I reckon my view is more than 10 metres, maybe even 30. I’ve driven on Motorways in worse conditions.
Chris - And it’s not too cold. I don’t mind people giving you bad news but they should at least be honest and not try to scare you.
Two slower climbers ask Chris to take their photo and then Chris and Denzil dash down the mountain – skidding on the scree.
Elderly tourist sitting by the path to her husband as Chris and Denzil pass: That’s how you should do it. A hop and a jump.
Denzil speaking into his mobile - Kelly we are 15 minutes from the meeting point.
Kelly - I’ll be ready.
Kelly keeps her word and as Chris and Denzil return to the car they see food and water waiting for them. Within minutes the car leaves the car park.
…………………………………………………
The following events take place between 7.29pm and 2.06am.
Denzil sleeps in the back of the car whilst Chris directs Kelly. The discussion is unheard (I was asleep) but probably about the poor taste each has in music. The car stops at Gretna for a break. Denzil and Kelly step out the car for a break, Chris dozes in the front. Back in the car, Denzil sleeping in the back, Chris directing. As they enter Cumbria a torrential downpour takes place. They turn down a country lane and ease past numerous sheep sleeping in the middle of it. There is no light except the car head lights. They pull into a grass car park with no life. Chris and Denzil leave the car.
……………………………………………………
The following events take place between 2.07am and 6.05am
Chris has a head torch shining the way, Denzil has nothing and is scrabbling around trying to stay more or less behind Chris. It is pitch black and incredibly humid, they sweat even more profusely than in the Ben Nevis sunshine. In the distance they hear a car alarm, it stops and starts again.
Denzil - All the descriptions of the route said the path up the mountain was very clear. I’m not sure we are even on a path.
Chris - The GPS is very unhappy, we aren’t moving quickly enough for it to get its bearing properly.
They are struggling over rocks and through boggy scrubland. Every now and then torches can be seen in the distance but these vanish.
Chris: Let’s aim for those sheep, they often lie in short grass by paths.
Chris and Denzil are back on the path walking past ghostly images of sheep. [Cut to commercials].
Kelly is trying to sleep in the car. The car is parked near a wall, men keep going up to the wall and urinating. Denzil and Chris are still meandering in the dark.
Denzil - We’ve lost the path again but I think it’s beginning to get light. We’ll be able to see properly soon.
Chris - We’re also above the cloud, the humidity has dropped. The GPS says that way but I suggest we steer clear of that. He points and within metres of where they stand is a cliff edge. They walk away from it and to a grass bank with a very steep rock face rising up from it.
Chris - We are close to the summit height now. We just need to get up this rock face.
Denzil - I am certain this is not the correct route but it’s a lot lighter now, let’s go for it. He looks around. Wow Chris, look at that.
Behind them as day approaches you can see the top of the clouds with mountain peaks poking through. They pause to take in the scene and then start to free climb the rock face for about 30metres. About 10 minutes later they pull themselves over the edge and see some other people heading down the mountain on a well defined path. Chris and Denzil get on the path and walk to the trig point. They pause for photos but it is still to dark for the spectacular backdrop to be seen properly.
Chris – Let’s head back. We can see the path now. [Cut to commercials]
Chris and Denzil are now racing down the hill. They overtake the group who reached the peak first.
Chris – We must have been flirting with and skirting around the path for most of the way up.
They reach a field with a style near the bottom. Denzil confidently points the way to the car park. They reach a dry river bed.
Chris – this isn’t the way we came in. The car park is about 700m that way.
Denzil – it all looked the same in the dark.
They follow the river bed and get back to the car. Kelly is sleeping and they wake her by knocking on the window.
Kelly - I had a hell of a time trying to sleep. Men kept using that wall as a toilet and I could not lock myself in without setting the car alarm off.
…………………………………………….
The following takes place between 6.06am and 10.49 am.
Chris is lightly dozing on the back seat. Denzil is navigating but dozes off frequently. The conversation is in hushed voices as though respecting the early morning. Chris wakes up to help get them to the Snowdon car park and points out a village Kelly could visit whilst he and Denzil are climbing.
Kelly – when I was reading about this one it said you have to jump out quickly at the car park because it is always full and the attendants complain if you stop at the entrance.
…………………………………………….
The following takes place between 10.50am and 1.58pm
Chris and Denzil jump out the car and wave to Kelly.
Denzil – this way. He walks through a gate next to somebody’s house.
Chris – the mountain is that way. They walk in the opposite direction. They walk through the car park and through a gate that is not next to somebody’s house.
Chris: This is the Miner’s Trail. It starts low, follows the lake and then gets very steep to meet the Pyg Path.
Denzil – a flat section is good for me, my legs have stiffened up quite a lot.
They walk past a large number of tourists on a very obvious path. They skirt two picturesque lakes before the path suddenly becomes a climb up a fairly steep rock face. Tourists are scrambling up and Chris and Denzil join the queue. [Cut to commercials].
Chris points to a cloud covered part of the mountain above them. – that is the peak up their. We’re on the final push.
Denzil – good I’m reaching my limit. I can’t believe how many people there are on this mountain.
They keep climbing, overtaking numerous panting tourists. They reach the summit plateau, covered in cloud, and follow the railway line to the trig point. They sit on the trig point.
Denzil – these flies are really annoying. They are everywhere.
Chris – yes, and so are the tourists. Let’s get a photo and go.
They get a stranger to take a picture and then head off.
Chris – I’m not sure my knees can take the pounding of climbing down that steep slope – let’s follow the Pyg Track back. [Cut to Commercials]
Chris and Denzil are almost running down the path as the end of the challenge approaches
Denzil – I don’t like this path so much, I’m glad we didn’t come up it. They pass a man sitting by the path.
Man (in strong Geordie accent) – is it far to the top lads?
Chris – maybe 45 minutes and there is nothing to see there.
Man – well maybe I’ll stop here then. He surveys the lake below him.
Chris – You’ve certainly got a nicer view. I’m not sure I’d bother.
Denzil: I reckon we have 25 minutes left. I’ll call Kelly.
They go around a blind bend and lose sight of the mountain but can now see the car park. They are soon passing through the gate that leads to it and signifies the official end of the challenge. Total time is just under 22.5 hours. Kelly arrives, parks and they get a photo and some very poor quality tea from the car park café.
Kelly – this is disgusting. Let’s go.
Denzil – If traffic is on our side we should be back in London for dinner. Who wants curry?
Denzil, Kelly and Chris are in the Ben Nevis Visitors Centre. They approach a bald old man not dissimilar in looks, voice and, as it turns out, personality to Private Fraser from Dad’s Army.
Chris - What’s the weather like at the summit?
Fraser - You’ll be best coming back tomorrow at 8am when we will have a more precise forecast.
Chris - We were planning on climbing it now.
Fraser - You have to give yourself 4 hours up and 3 hours back. It will be dark on your descent and you won’t leave any time to be rescued if you get injured. It is bitingly cold up there at the moment and visibility is no more than 10 metres. You really would be making a big mistake going up now – it would be different if you were doing the 3 Peaks…
Denzil - We are
Kelly - And I’m driving so won’t be holding them back.
Fraser - Aye, you got the short straw did ya? You won’t be smiling when you are driving down to Scafell and these two are snoring away. So it’s the 3 Peaks is it? You need to be up and down in 5 hours, any more than 5 and a half and you don’t have a chance but take a lot of water because below the cloud line it is hot and people yesterday were dehydrating and it was much less humid than today. You might want to rethink though because, to be honest, it’s shit up there. Have you climbed the mountains before.
Chris - Yes
Chris buys a map of the summit and they leave the old man to sell souvenir haggis to tourists.
Denzil - I’m willing to admit I’m quite scared now but we haven’t just driven all this way to not even start this. Have you really climbed the mountains before Chris?
Chris – No [Cut to Commercials]
Chris and Denzil cross a bridge, Ben Nevis looms in front of them. The official start time is 3.30pm. The path splits:
Chris: We need to go South East. Where’s the sun? [Looks up] Ok, this way.
Denzil looks at his compass, nods and follows Chris as they climb the steep but well defined path up Ben Nevis in near silence. Chris leads at an impressive pace, they sweat profusely in the late afternoon sun. Cut to Kelly sitting outside the Visitor’s Centre planning the drive to Scafell Pike. Fraser walks up to her.
Fraser - I know the 3 Peaks route well, the first service station after you get on the M6 is perfect to stop at late at night.
Kelly - Are you from around here?
Fraser - Aye, I like walking in the foothills but I hate the mountain.
Kelly - Have you ever been up it?
Fraser - No
Chris and Denzil are now above the grass level, a stunning mountain lake is just behind them. A helicopter buzzes over head, they look up to see it is mountain rescue headed for the summit. The path has become loose shale and there are fewer people around. [Cut to Commercials]
Chris and Denzil are on the plateau at the summit. The cloud is thick. Sheer drops are on either side of them with cloud rising up from the edge.
Chris - That’s 5 Finger Gully. On the other side is the North East Face. You can see how close the path goes between them. That is why if the cloud comes in too much you can easily walk over the edge but visibility is good enough for us to stay on the path. [5 minutes more walking on the desolate and lifeless plateau] There’s the trig point, we are at the top. Although that hut over there looks higher.
Photos are taken and they sit on the trig point.
Denzil - I reckon my view is more than 10 metres, maybe even 30. I’ve driven on Motorways in worse conditions.
Chris - And it’s not too cold. I don’t mind people giving you bad news but they should at least be honest and not try to scare you.
Two slower climbers ask Chris to take their photo and then Chris and Denzil dash down the mountain – skidding on the scree.
Elderly tourist sitting by the path to her husband as Chris and Denzil pass: That’s how you should do it. A hop and a jump.
Denzil speaking into his mobile - Kelly we are 15 minutes from the meeting point.
Kelly - I’ll be ready.
Kelly keeps her word and as Chris and Denzil return to the car they see food and water waiting for them. Within minutes the car leaves the car park.
…………………………………………………
The following events take place between 7.29pm and 2.06am.
Denzil sleeps in the back of the car whilst Chris directs Kelly. The discussion is unheard (I was asleep) but probably about the poor taste each has in music. The car stops at Gretna for a break. Denzil and Kelly step out the car for a break, Chris dozes in the front. Back in the car, Denzil sleeping in the back, Chris directing. As they enter Cumbria a torrential downpour takes place. They turn down a country lane and ease past numerous sheep sleeping in the middle of it. There is no light except the car head lights. They pull into a grass car park with no life. Chris and Denzil leave the car.
……………………………………………………
The following events take place between 2.07am and 6.05am
Chris has a head torch shining the way, Denzil has nothing and is scrabbling around trying to stay more or less behind Chris. It is pitch black and incredibly humid, they sweat even more profusely than in the Ben Nevis sunshine. In the distance they hear a car alarm, it stops and starts again.
Denzil - All the descriptions of the route said the path up the mountain was very clear. I’m not sure we are even on a path.
Chris - The GPS is very unhappy, we aren’t moving quickly enough for it to get its bearing properly.
They are struggling over rocks and through boggy scrubland. Every now and then torches can be seen in the distance but these vanish.
Chris: Let’s aim for those sheep, they often lie in short grass by paths.
Chris and Denzil are back on the path walking past ghostly images of sheep. [Cut to commercials].
Kelly is trying to sleep in the car. The car is parked near a wall, men keep going up to the wall and urinating. Denzil and Chris are still meandering in the dark.
Denzil - We’ve lost the path again but I think it’s beginning to get light. We’ll be able to see properly soon.
Chris - We’re also above the cloud, the humidity has dropped. The GPS says that way but I suggest we steer clear of that. He points and within metres of where they stand is a cliff edge. They walk away from it and to a grass bank with a very steep rock face rising up from it.
Chris - We are close to the summit height now. We just need to get up this rock face.
Denzil - I am certain this is not the correct route but it’s a lot lighter now, let’s go for it. He looks around. Wow Chris, look at that.
Behind them as day approaches you can see the top of the clouds with mountain peaks poking through. They pause to take in the scene and then start to free climb the rock face for about 30metres. About 10 minutes later they pull themselves over the edge and see some other people heading down the mountain on a well defined path. Chris and Denzil get on the path and walk to the trig point. They pause for photos but it is still to dark for the spectacular backdrop to be seen properly.
Chris – Let’s head back. We can see the path now. [Cut to commercials]
Chris and Denzil are now racing down the hill. They overtake the group who reached the peak first.
Chris – We must have been flirting with and skirting around the path for most of the way up.
They reach a field with a style near the bottom. Denzil confidently points the way to the car park. They reach a dry river bed.
Chris – this isn’t the way we came in. The car park is about 700m that way.
Denzil – it all looked the same in the dark.
They follow the river bed and get back to the car. Kelly is sleeping and they wake her by knocking on the window.
Kelly - I had a hell of a time trying to sleep. Men kept using that wall as a toilet and I could not lock myself in without setting the car alarm off.
…………………………………………….
The following takes place between 6.06am and 10.49 am.
Chris is lightly dozing on the back seat. Denzil is navigating but dozes off frequently. The conversation is in hushed voices as though respecting the early morning. Chris wakes up to help get them to the Snowdon car park and points out a village Kelly could visit whilst he and Denzil are climbing.
Kelly – when I was reading about this one it said you have to jump out quickly at the car park because it is always full and the attendants complain if you stop at the entrance.
…………………………………………….
The following takes place between 10.50am and 1.58pm
Chris and Denzil jump out the car and wave to Kelly.
Denzil – this way. He walks through a gate next to somebody’s house.
Chris – the mountain is that way. They walk in the opposite direction. They walk through the car park and through a gate that is not next to somebody’s house.
Chris: This is the Miner’s Trail. It starts low, follows the lake and then gets very steep to meet the Pyg Path.
Denzil – a flat section is good for me, my legs have stiffened up quite a lot.
They walk past a large number of tourists on a very obvious path. They skirt two picturesque lakes before the path suddenly becomes a climb up a fairly steep rock face. Tourists are scrambling up and Chris and Denzil join the queue. [Cut to commercials].
Chris points to a cloud covered part of the mountain above them. – that is the peak up their. We’re on the final push.
Denzil – good I’m reaching my limit. I can’t believe how many people there are on this mountain.
They keep climbing, overtaking numerous panting tourists. They reach the summit plateau, covered in cloud, and follow the railway line to the trig point. They sit on the trig point.
Denzil – these flies are really annoying. They are everywhere.
Chris – yes, and so are the tourists. Let’s get a photo and go.
They get a stranger to take a picture and then head off.
Chris – I’m not sure my knees can take the pounding of climbing down that steep slope – let’s follow the Pyg Track back. [Cut to Commercials]
Chris and Denzil are almost running down the path as the end of the challenge approaches
Denzil – I don’t like this path so much, I’m glad we didn’t come up it. They pass a man sitting by the path.
Man (in strong Geordie accent) – is it far to the top lads?
Chris – maybe 45 minutes and there is nothing to see there.
Man – well maybe I’ll stop here then. He surveys the lake below him.
Chris – You’ve certainly got a nicer view. I’m not sure I’d bother.
Denzil: I reckon we have 25 minutes left. I’ll call Kelly.
They go around a blind bend and lose sight of the mountain but can now see the car park. They are soon passing through the gate that leads to it and signifies the official end of the challenge. Total time is just under 22.5 hours. Kelly arrives, parks and they get a photo and some very poor quality tea from the car park café.
Kelly – this is disgusting. Let’s go.
Denzil – If traffic is on our side we should be back in London for dinner. Who wants curry?
Friday, 8 August 2008
Do You Dongol?
We live our lives following a an infinite number of intuitive rules. We go our full earthly duration never knowing what most of these are. It might relate to how you judge when it is your turn to buy a round in a pub, whether you answer a mobile phone call from a number you do not know or whether you take a short cut across the grass . Every now and then something happens that draws one of these rules to your attention and I have discovered that if I receive an email with the subject "Dongoling" however much I suspect it's spam I have to open it.
It turned out I was being Cc'd into an email from Paul to Hal, "I think that you mentioned that there may be a vacancy on the Dongoling team for this year. Is that still the case? If so, I thought that I would suggest Denzil". Flattered to be thought of as a potential dongoler, and open to pretty much anything this year, I expressed my interest. Hal confirmed there was a place and less than 2 weeks later I found myself in Wargrave preparing to dongol alongside one old friend and four complete strangers. I still didn't know what dongoling was.
Ten days, four training sessions and a lot of wet clothes later I have learnt to do something I had never previously done. There is also a specific point when that new experience is tested - or to put it another way I have a new challenge for the year. It's exciting because it was unexpected, it's exciting because, even though it could all be over in less than 2 minutes I get to spend the day with a group of people who it turns out are far from strange. It's exciting because there will be food, alcohol, crowds and water.
And it's funny because I'm not going to tell you what dongoling is until I report back next week (or maybe the week after, I still have to do the report for the 3 Peaks and a whole load of housekeeping).
It turned out I was being Cc'd into an email from Paul to Hal, "I think that you mentioned that there may be a vacancy on the Dongoling team for this year. Is that still the case? If so, I thought that I would suggest Denzil". Flattered to be thought of as a potential dongoler, and open to pretty much anything this year, I expressed my interest. Hal confirmed there was a place and less than 2 weeks later I found myself in Wargrave preparing to dongol alongside one old friend and four complete strangers. I still didn't know what dongoling was.
Ten days, four training sessions and a lot of wet clothes later I have learnt to do something I had never previously done. There is also a specific point when that new experience is tested - or to put it another way I have a new challenge for the year. It's exciting because it was unexpected, it's exciting because, even though it could all be over in less than 2 minutes I get to spend the day with a group of people who it turns out are far from strange. It's exciting because there will be food, alcohol, crowds and water.
And it's funny because I'm not going to tell you what dongoling is until I report back next week (or maybe the week after, I still have to do the report for the 3 Peaks and a whole load of housekeeping).
Wednesday, 23 July 2008
Give it a Tri
When walking up 6th Avenue from 45th Street to 53rd Street you pass the UBS Building. Outside the UBS Building is a large digital display that alternates between the time and the temperature. 4:51am…80F…4:52am…81F. I was not due to start for two and a half hours and, when the sun rose, it was only going to get hotter. I mentioned this to the guy who sat next to me on the shuttle bus, adding that as he was from Arizona this probably didn’t bother him
“By any standards this is very hot”, he responded. “But it’s not so much the heat as the humidity – they issued an extreme weather warning for New York City yesterday”.
I took a big swig of water and looked out of the window at the incredible amount of life still buzzing through Manhattan. “The city that never sleeps”, I thought. There was little point dwelling on the weather, I was going to at least start the triathlon regardless.
********************
At 7.21am, or thereabouts, the Mens 30-34 fluorescent pink waive (we were identified by age group and swim cap colour) jumped off a low pier into the Hudson. It would have been a comfortable temperature even without a wetsuit. For the 26th time that morning an air horn blasted above the noise of the city and, for the 26th time that morning the water was churned by thrashing arms and legs of about 30 triathletes jostling for position.
The group dispersed surprisingly quickly. I had the impression of swimming alone, although I do not know if this was down to speed or just the impression given by the murky water and my fogged up goggles. I think the lack of external stimuli makes it seem quite lonely anyway, certainly on the two times I have swum in open water for any time it has been a somewhat melancholic experience and for a moment I was back in Alcatraz. Then I told myself not to be silly. This was far easier. Aside from swimming through a group of jellyfish (the stings were like nettles but I found out later that some people needed minor medical assistance) my only real problems were caused by my not being able to see properly. I could not see other swimmers ahead of me until they kicked me in the face and, because I pull to the left when I swim and could not judge correcting this my line kept zigging towards the bank. On three occasions I zagged too late and once went into an orange boom separating off some building work in the water and twice into kayaks that were monitoring the swimmers. I suppose this also meant I swam further than I needed. The restrictive nature of the wetsuit was beginning to affect me and I felt like I was having trouble taking in enough air. This may have been psychosomatic but it was still a great relief when I grabbed the arm of the person at the far end of the course who helped me up the stairs and onto the pier. Officially the 1500 metres took 26 minutes 12 seconds. It felt so much longer.
*******************
Initially I was unsteady on my feet but not like Alcatraz and after a few hesitant steps I jogged the 300 metres to the transition area. I had read a lot about this because it was not something I could practice. Wetsuit off the top half of the body whilst running, off the legs when you get to the bike, rinse feet, on with next pair of shoes, helmet on and strapped, gloves (yes gloves), grab bike and go. 6 minutes 16 seconds in total.
******************
The branch of Metro Bikes that was renting my bike to me was located in Hell’s Kitchen. The staff were stereotypical New Yorkers and I had no idea of they were being surly or ribbing me. They brought out my bike and it had toe straps rather than the cleats I had requested, I pointed this out and they said they didn’t have the email (that they had responded to) about this. They also pointed out that an admin error meant they had just given me a brand new $2000 bike. I found the argument persuasive and accepted the toe straps. This at least meant only one change of shoes during the race.
From the discussions I had with other competitors during registration on Saturday it seems that the fastest triathletes tend to have a cycling background and so do that leg the fastest in relative terms. I anticipated it being my slowest leg and when they told me the times they could achieve I wondered if I should have started with an officially sanctioned race that included people seeking Olympic Qualifying times and a first prize of $30,000.
Not to worry, in a similar vein to the London Marathon, only with less fancy dress, the race attracted all levels and, after a tentative start getting used to the bike I was soon whizzing along the Western Highway towards the Bronx. In fact, as I got used to the racing etiquette – shout on your left if you are overtaking and worry a person will pull out in front is the biggy – I started to enjoy myself. Some of the views over the city were quite spectacular and I seemed to be overtaking almost as many people as overtook me. “I want to wake up in the city that never sleeps…” sang Frank Sinatra in my head. I have quite eclectic taste but have never been a big fan of Ol’ Blue Eyes and cursed my thought on the morning bus ride.
The enjoyment petered out towards the end because New York roads are terrible and the vibrations made my hands numb. Also the discomfort of being in a saddle was taking its toll. I am worried that I will be brandable by the end of the Ireland trip. I had no idea how long I had been on the bike because my watch had broken during the swim but was pleased to finish. Official records said the 40km took me 1 hour 24 minutes and 6 seconds.
*******************
With no need to change my shoes this was a quick transition. Off the bike, hang it up, off with the helmet and watch, gulp down some water and electrolyte gel and away. 1 minute 47 seconds.
*****************
By now the sun was high and out of the shade was not a fun place to be. The street run from transition to Central Park did not have much shade and was not fun. Nor were the two indicators my body was giving off. The first suggested I was dangerously close to cramping up in my right thigh, the second hinted that I was in danger of a Paula Radcliffe moment (if you don’t know check Youtube or, better for you, don’t). I started the run slowly and hoped everything would settle down.
As you probably know Central Park is manmade. If I met that man I would shake his hand for putting so many trees right by the paths. I would then punch him in the face for landscaping so many hills. For 10km we were up and down, gasping in the humidity. A lot of people were walking now. I was determined not to stop, I wouldn’t have started again. My legs kept twinging but cramp stayed away.
Frank was out of my head but replaced by Billy Joel’s ‘For the Longest Time’ that some oddball had been singing to the triathletes and then, thankfully (and thankfully is not a word I would normally use to describe hearing this song) ‘Eye of the Tiger’. I think by this stage my mind had melted and was so suggestible that Derren Brown would have put me on his Christmas Special.
With just under 4km left I heard somebody tell another runner the time. 9.51am. I had been going for just 2 and a half hours. If I walked quickly I could beat my target time. If I ran slowly I could break 3 hours. If I ran quickly I had a chance of beating 2hours 45 minutes. I decided that no water would rehydrate me quickly enough to make it worth taking any more on board and accelerated. I went for the last kilometre as if it actually counted for something but the clock had counted the time since the start of the entire race and as I had no idea what time the start actually was this gave me no clues.
****************
The battle through the crowd of athletes at the finish, some being violently sick from the heat, most looking for their families, combined with a desperation to wipe off the sweat and get some water, food and clean clothes took my mind off my finish time. Once wiped down and changed I found a VIP tent and no one stopped me going in so I did. I state the obvious when I say Americans eat a lot. Laid out was a buffet of cakes, sandwiches, tacos and all sorts of other foods that were too heavy for me to face. Then I found it, chilled pineapple. Pineapple is a flavour that is welcome at any time but at this time it was ambrosia. I then heard that end times were being handed out at another tent. I went to get mine. 2 hours 46 minutes 36 seconds. It is indicative of how attuned we are to working in quarter hours that I had a pang of disappointment. I told myself it was a good time, and it was, but if I had just swum straighter or pushed myself harder on the bike or not had an extra sip of water I would have beaten 2 hours 45. I left to return my bike.
***************
So what of the experience? I loved it. Not just the sense of achievement. I enjoyed it all whilst I was dong it. Maybe less so the swim but even that in it’s own sorrowful way. New York was a great setting and it was fantastically organised. You push yourself in three different ways, the whole body feels it, the mind feels it but the experience is broken down so does not become overwhelming. Everybody I spoke to had a different perspective on how one should go about the event and what the best and worst bits are. They were passionate but not obsessed, the clear sense of camaraderie surprised me in what is a very individual sport.
“By any standards this is very hot”, he responded. “But it’s not so much the heat as the humidity – they issued an extreme weather warning for New York City yesterday”.
I took a big swig of water and looked out of the window at the incredible amount of life still buzzing through Manhattan. “The city that never sleeps”, I thought. There was little point dwelling on the weather, I was going to at least start the triathlon regardless.
********************
At 7.21am, or thereabouts, the Mens 30-34 fluorescent pink waive (we were identified by age group and swim cap colour) jumped off a low pier into the Hudson. It would have been a comfortable temperature even without a wetsuit. For the 26th time that morning an air horn blasted above the noise of the city and, for the 26th time that morning the water was churned by thrashing arms and legs of about 30 triathletes jostling for position.
The group dispersed surprisingly quickly. I had the impression of swimming alone, although I do not know if this was down to speed or just the impression given by the murky water and my fogged up goggles. I think the lack of external stimuli makes it seem quite lonely anyway, certainly on the two times I have swum in open water for any time it has been a somewhat melancholic experience and for a moment I was back in Alcatraz. Then I told myself not to be silly. This was far easier. Aside from swimming through a group of jellyfish (the stings were like nettles but I found out later that some people needed minor medical assistance) my only real problems were caused by my not being able to see properly. I could not see other swimmers ahead of me until they kicked me in the face and, because I pull to the left when I swim and could not judge correcting this my line kept zigging towards the bank. On three occasions I zagged too late and once went into an orange boom separating off some building work in the water and twice into kayaks that were monitoring the swimmers. I suppose this also meant I swam further than I needed. The restrictive nature of the wetsuit was beginning to affect me and I felt like I was having trouble taking in enough air. This may have been psychosomatic but it was still a great relief when I grabbed the arm of the person at the far end of the course who helped me up the stairs and onto the pier. Officially the 1500 metres took 26 minutes 12 seconds. It felt so much longer.
*******************
Initially I was unsteady on my feet but not like Alcatraz and after a few hesitant steps I jogged the 300 metres to the transition area. I had read a lot about this because it was not something I could practice. Wetsuit off the top half of the body whilst running, off the legs when you get to the bike, rinse feet, on with next pair of shoes, helmet on and strapped, gloves (yes gloves), grab bike and go. 6 minutes 16 seconds in total.
******************
The branch of Metro Bikes that was renting my bike to me was located in Hell’s Kitchen. The staff were stereotypical New Yorkers and I had no idea of they were being surly or ribbing me. They brought out my bike and it had toe straps rather than the cleats I had requested, I pointed this out and they said they didn’t have the email (that they had responded to) about this. They also pointed out that an admin error meant they had just given me a brand new $2000 bike. I found the argument persuasive and accepted the toe straps. This at least meant only one change of shoes during the race.
From the discussions I had with other competitors during registration on Saturday it seems that the fastest triathletes tend to have a cycling background and so do that leg the fastest in relative terms. I anticipated it being my slowest leg and when they told me the times they could achieve I wondered if I should have started with an officially sanctioned race that included people seeking Olympic Qualifying times and a first prize of $30,000.
Not to worry, in a similar vein to the London Marathon, only with less fancy dress, the race attracted all levels and, after a tentative start getting used to the bike I was soon whizzing along the Western Highway towards the Bronx. In fact, as I got used to the racing etiquette – shout on your left if you are overtaking and worry a person will pull out in front is the biggy – I started to enjoy myself. Some of the views over the city were quite spectacular and I seemed to be overtaking almost as many people as overtook me. “I want to wake up in the city that never sleeps…” sang Frank Sinatra in my head. I have quite eclectic taste but have never been a big fan of Ol’ Blue Eyes and cursed my thought on the morning bus ride.
The enjoyment petered out towards the end because New York roads are terrible and the vibrations made my hands numb. Also the discomfort of being in a saddle was taking its toll. I am worried that I will be brandable by the end of the Ireland trip. I had no idea how long I had been on the bike because my watch had broken during the swim but was pleased to finish. Official records said the 40km took me 1 hour 24 minutes and 6 seconds.
*******************
With no need to change my shoes this was a quick transition. Off the bike, hang it up, off with the helmet and watch, gulp down some water and electrolyte gel and away. 1 minute 47 seconds.
*****************
By now the sun was high and out of the shade was not a fun place to be. The street run from transition to Central Park did not have much shade and was not fun. Nor were the two indicators my body was giving off. The first suggested I was dangerously close to cramping up in my right thigh, the second hinted that I was in danger of a Paula Radcliffe moment (if you don’t know check Youtube or, better for you, don’t). I started the run slowly and hoped everything would settle down.
As you probably know Central Park is manmade. If I met that man I would shake his hand for putting so many trees right by the paths. I would then punch him in the face for landscaping so many hills. For 10km we were up and down, gasping in the humidity. A lot of people were walking now. I was determined not to stop, I wouldn’t have started again. My legs kept twinging but cramp stayed away.
Frank was out of my head but replaced by Billy Joel’s ‘For the Longest Time’ that some oddball had been singing to the triathletes and then, thankfully (and thankfully is not a word I would normally use to describe hearing this song) ‘Eye of the Tiger’. I think by this stage my mind had melted and was so suggestible that Derren Brown would have put me on his Christmas Special.
With just under 4km left I heard somebody tell another runner the time. 9.51am. I had been going for just 2 and a half hours. If I walked quickly I could beat my target time. If I ran slowly I could break 3 hours. If I ran quickly I had a chance of beating 2hours 45 minutes. I decided that no water would rehydrate me quickly enough to make it worth taking any more on board and accelerated. I went for the last kilometre as if it actually counted for something but the clock had counted the time since the start of the entire race and as I had no idea what time the start actually was this gave me no clues.
****************
The battle through the crowd of athletes at the finish, some being violently sick from the heat, most looking for their families, combined with a desperation to wipe off the sweat and get some water, food and clean clothes took my mind off my finish time. Once wiped down and changed I found a VIP tent and no one stopped me going in so I did. I state the obvious when I say Americans eat a lot. Laid out was a buffet of cakes, sandwiches, tacos and all sorts of other foods that were too heavy for me to face. Then I found it, chilled pineapple. Pineapple is a flavour that is welcome at any time but at this time it was ambrosia. I then heard that end times were being handed out at another tent. I went to get mine. 2 hours 46 minutes 36 seconds. It is indicative of how attuned we are to working in quarter hours that I had a pang of disappointment. I told myself it was a good time, and it was, but if I had just swum straighter or pushed myself harder on the bike or not had an extra sip of water I would have beaten 2 hours 45. I left to return my bike.
***************
So what of the experience? I loved it. Not just the sense of achievement. I enjoyed it all whilst I was dong it. Maybe less so the swim but even that in it’s own sorrowful way. New York was a great setting and it was fantastically organised. You push yourself in three different ways, the whole body feels it, the mind feels it but the experience is broken down so does not become overwhelming. Everybody I spoke to had a different perspective on how one should go about the event and what the best and worst bits are. They were passionate but not obsessed, the clear sense of camaraderie surprised me in what is a very individual sport.
***************
Tuesday morning and I have access to the Internet. I check my split times on the official results website. I came 90th out of 411 of the 30-34 year old men, that made me feel better about the time. Ah yes the time, masochistically I look at it again, 2 hours 44 minutes 43.6 seconds. They have rounded it down for the official result. I feel I’m king of the hill, top of the heap, a nuuuumbeeeeeer ooooooooone.
Tuesday morning and I have access to the Internet. I check my split times on the official results website. I came 90th out of 411 of the 30-34 year old men, that made me feel better about the time. Ah yes the time, masochistically I look at it again, 2 hours 44 minutes 43.6 seconds. They have rounded it down for the official result. I feel I’m king of the hill, top of the heap, a nuuuumbeeeeeer ooooooooone.
Thursday, 17 July 2008
Tri Tri Again
Sunday sees me attempt one of this year's cornerstone challenges - The New York Triathlon. This is an Olympic distance triathlon incorporating a 1500m swim down the Hudson River, 40km bike ride along the Western Highway and a 10km run around Central Park. I am not sure whether to be excited or terrified. Currently I’m wavering between the two, often in the same minute.
It’s going to be physically demanding, no doubt. I am maybe a month off being properly ready because I have not actually tried to do all three things back to back. However I am optimistic of completing it and, afterwards, feeling very proud – I just don’t know how long it will take (to finish or recover enough to feel proud).
No reason for this one, a triathlon is just something I have always fancied trying and if you are going to do a one then it may as well be in New York. Well, it may as well be London but at the time of entering I was still hoping to do the London Marathon and didn’t want to do more than one physical challenge in any city. As it turns out I have nothing set up for London, which is bordering on the ironic but I think we are all now far too confused as to what irony actually is for me to risk saying that.
The plus side of doing it in America is they do these things with a bit more style. The organisers have arranged a system where anybody interested can get real time updates on my progress by email or text (although I could not get my head around text requirements). Follow this link and the instructions and you can pretend you are there cheering me on. In case you forget my name when searching for me - I think my bib number is 3525.
I don’t know how detailed the updates are but, with the weather in New York being a nightly minimum of C23 degrees and daily maximum of over C30 you can expect something along the lines of:
35 minutes – swim finished
2 hours 30 minutes - cycle finished
2 hours 50 minutes - collapsed with heat exhaustion
2 hours 55 minutes - placed in ambulance
3 hours 14 minutes - arrives in hospital
5 hours 5 minutes - released from hospital
5 hours 6 minutes - regrets not taking out travel insurance
Apparently there is also a way of watching an Internet feed of the last 30 seconds of the race for each competitor. I don't know how this works and with no idea how long I will take I can’t say when to watch. I have set myself a target time of 3 hours 15 minutes because it is good to have a target but realistically that is a barely educated guess. I start at about 12.15 UK time so, with fortune, will be finishing just as you reach the end of your Sunday lunch. You may have a job recognising me because I suspect a cap and sunglasses will be required and actually, now I think about it, I will also be wearing a skimpy one piece waterproof leotard kind of thing and sweating like a pig in a sauna. Not something to be experienced on a full stomach, or indeed at all. My recommendation, stick to the updates.
It’s going to be physically demanding, no doubt. I am maybe a month off being properly ready because I have not actually tried to do all three things back to back. However I am optimistic of completing it and, afterwards, feeling very proud – I just don’t know how long it will take (to finish or recover enough to feel proud).
No reason for this one, a triathlon is just something I have always fancied trying and if you are going to do a one then it may as well be in New York. Well, it may as well be London but at the time of entering I was still hoping to do the London Marathon and didn’t want to do more than one physical challenge in any city. As it turns out I have nothing set up for London, which is bordering on the ironic but I think we are all now far too confused as to what irony actually is for me to risk saying that.
The plus side of doing it in America is they do these things with a bit more style. The organisers have arranged a system where anybody interested can get real time updates on my progress by email or text (although I could not get my head around text requirements). Follow this link and the instructions and you can pretend you are there cheering me on. In case you forget my name when searching for me - I think my bib number is 3525.
I don’t know how detailed the updates are but, with the weather in New York being a nightly minimum of C23 degrees and daily maximum of over C30 you can expect something along the lines of:
35 minutes – swim finished
2 hours 30 minutes - cycle finished
2 hours 50 minutes - collapsed with heat exhaustion
2 hours 55 minutes - placed in ambulance
3 hours 14 minutes - arrives in hospital
5 hours 5 minutes - released from hospital
5 hours 6 minutes - regrets not taking out travel insurance
Apparently there is also a way of watching an Internet feed of the last 30 seconds of the race for each competitor. I don't know how this works and with no idea how long I will take I can’t say when to watch. I have set myself a target time of 3 hours 15 minutes because it is good to have a target but realistically that is a barely educated guess. I start at about 12.15 UK time so, with fortune, will be finishing just as you reach the end of your Sunday lunch. You may have a job recognising me because I suspect a cap and sunglasses will be required and actually, now I think about it, I will also be wearing a skimpy one piece waterproof leotard kind of thing and sweating like a pig in a sauna. Not something to be experienced on a full stomach, or indeed at all. My recommendation, stick to the updates.
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