Back in January, I decided that 2015 needed a challenge that would push my body to its limits, and due to my new altruistic outlook a charity bike ride seemed like a bleddy good idea. Along with a few pals, I signed up to the 205 mile ‘Ride for precious lives‘, organised by Children’s Hospice South West (CHSW), and quickly realised that I had neither the kit or experience to undertake such a monumental task. I quickly set about purchasing all the necessary equipment and started my training with Strava as a helpful mentor. Training went well, with many miles clocked up in the lead up to the event, and because the majority of it was in Cornwall, I felt prepared for the ominous big hills. As a team and as an event, we were raising money for Children’s Hospice South West and walked into the event knowing that we had already raised more than £800 for this amazing cause – this brought with it a sense of responsibility. We had to finish.
Day 1 – Goodbyes, Bodmin Moor & Bideford
And so the big day came – early to rise, we arrived at Little Harbour in St. Austell, Cornwall, nervous and eager to get riding. A few photos, some inspiring words and a safety briefing later, all 95 of us were off, speeding towards our first intimidating target… Bodmin Moor. Despite still being in our own back yard in the mighty county of Cornwall, we were staggered by its beauty, even when getting buffeted by an 
onslaught of wind on Davidstow Airfield. Descending off the moor, we realised that we had already smashed our longest ever training ride of 35 miles and stopped for lunch at The Rydon Inn, Holsworthy at 55 miles for a well-earned slice of lasagne. The pub was overrun with riders, all of which still had big smiles firmly on their faces and already banter between teams was rife. This fun atmosphere, Tom falling off his bike into a bush (fortunately unscathed), and the 8 mile downhill to Bideford, made for a thoroughly enjoyable end to the first day, clocking in at a cool 76 miles.
Day 2 – Exmoor, orienteering issues & eventually Taunton
After the predicted fading of day one’s enthusiasm, and probably too many Devon beers in the hotel the night before (one has to sample the local produce), I expected riding at the start of day two to be very tough. I was wrong. We woke surprisingly fresh, consumed our body-weight in bacon and eggs, and were once again on the road, speeding toward Barnstaple in a 100-man convoy. Here we stopped briefly to meet some of the children that we would be helping – a truly emotive experience and one that would act as fuel in our times of difficulty for the rest of the trip.
The times of difficulty came promptly and in abundance, with some steep inclines up onto Exmoor (lowest gear was just not low enough) but we were absolutely determined not to walk. Reaching the plateau of Exmoor brought feelings of both relief and admiration for this staggering landscape (the downhill past Hawkridge is a ride that I simply have to do again). Stopping at The Anchor Inn in Exebridge at about 45 miles for a hearty BBQ lunch by the river we were refuelled and ready to go once more. The proceeding afternoon would be the most challenging of the trip and soon after leaving our pitstop I was about to find out why. Up until then I had not struggled for energy but all of a sudden I felt nothing in the tank. Assuming that I hadn’t had enough simple sugar and that the starchiness was something that would take a while to kick in, I noshed down an energy gel and kept pushing. I was right, either because I’m some sort of sports nutritionist and I didn’t know it, or placebo effect had done the job, and I was soon back up to speed with the boys’ pace.
A few miles later, the pack was split, and by sheer chance a group of riders pulled out in front of us and took a left. Unbeknownst to us, these riders were not part of our ride, and were on a totally different route that headed straight to Taunton, rather than heading our planned route. 6 or so miles later, after ascending and descending a rather large hill, we had realised the error of our ways and instead of carrying on the quick route to Taunton via an A road, we made the difficult decision of spinning our bikes around and joining the route again. This detour took us about 15 miles away from the main route, and an extra 1,500 ft in elevation. Yeah, bummer. Soon enough we were back on the beaten track and speeding for Taunton via Langford Budville, and after a quick pint at the Old Inn in Bishops Hull, we were greeted to a latecomer’s hero’s welcome at the hotel, some 2 hours later than most riders. Woops.
Day 3 – Somerset Levels, Cheddar Gorge & rounding off an excellent weekend
Starting with a 30 mile dead flat ride – day 3 was on paper the most attractive looking morning for riding of the weekend. Despite rain, the views on this morning stretched for miles and paying no attention to how our bodies were feeling after 150+ miles we were soon gobbling up the miles on route to the illustrious Cheddar Gorge. Soon it became apparent that we were missing the hills that we had been dreading on previous days, in some kind of perverse, masochistic, Stockholm syndrome-type way. The flat seemed to go on forever, and it was soon agreed that that some variety in terrain was in order and when the ‘foothills’ of the Mendips came, we were initially very pleased to see them. Stopping at the bottom of Cheddar to gawp at its beauty (the town isn’t so nice), catch our breath and prepare mentally, we soon began our ascent. As this would be the last major hill of the trip, we seemed to draw energy from the depths and began really pushing each other up through this truly amazing route for cycling. Half way up the steep part of the winding road, the heavens opened with some what seemed like apocalyptic showers. Four solid miles of uphill battle later, with good pace despite weary legs, we had made it to the lunch stop – the ironically titled Castle of Comfort.
After some great chow and a pint, we headed back to the asphalt in the belting rain. We met a series of big, wet declines, and a few climbs complete with heavier Bristol traffic, but soon we began seeing signs for the South West’s big smoke and we started getting excited. An excruciating last hill near Gordano was now the only thing in our way and before we knew it we were crossing the line in a state of pure elation to a crowd of family and friends.
We were done, which was nothing short of utterly rewarding. Not to mention the fact we had raised £1000 by our team and well over £100,000 in total by the 95 riders.
Spanning 4 counties, 225 miles and 15,000 feet of altitude (over half the height of Everest) it was truly a great adventure and we feel so lucky to be involved. Arrowhead Management did a fantastic job of running the event so precisely and with constant positivity, also the CHSW organisers had relentless support and enthusiasm – both of which we would like to thank immensely. If you’d like to chuck us a few quid for our efforts you still can and it will still be gratefully received. What a way to spend a weekend.
