A BAD START

Normally I like to prep all the organisers stuff on Wednesday, and prep my own stuff on Thursday / Friday as running the brevet doubles the nerves as you not only have to remember your own stuff but everyone else's.

Wednesday I was waylaid with something and Thursday I left my laptop at work so I couldn't prep the cards etc.

Took me about 2 hours to get the damn printer to work on Friday so didn't have time for my usual bagging and tagging - but with the rider numbers dropping from 16 to 13, I opted to get my own stuff ready knowing I'd be able to do everything at sign on.

Woke, breakfast and in the car before my eyes were open.  As I crossed a speed bump I heard a bang but just assumed it was the bag of bottles in my boot bouncing but when I got to the bottom of the lane I noticed a distinct lack of bike on my boot!  Turned out in my haste the night before I'd forgotten to actually strap it. 

Everything looked miraculously OK but at the start it turned out both tubes had blown and one tyre was blown.  (+ the new rear lamp cover that I'd just replaced after throwing the bike into a ravine was gone).  (+ a lost bottle).

Thanks to the guys who mucked in and helped with the sign on's and apologies that the route sheets, pens and zip bags were not as organised as I would like them to be. 

Also B & Q has moved - which might have confused one or two!

Anyway, once I'd allowed Conor to cycle up and down the Boucher road a couple of times - I gave a brief and un-prepared speech and everyone was off.  15 minutes later I was climbing Divis into the dawn thinking things aren't so bad after all.   Caught up with John but then just at the foot of the descent punctured!

This was 1 mile from my house - so the temptation was huge - but I changed the tube (now down to one) and hoped for the best.  I had no further punctures all day.

 

A GREAT DAY

 

Once the drama was over I had a pleasant days cycling in great company.  Skipped my customary croissant and coffée in Carrick to make up an bit of time and was soon clipping along with a couple of John's, a Richard - who was spreading his punctures and mechanicals through the day rather than getting them over early like me.

Spot of rain when Richard made the mistake of taking off his jacket, attracting two farmers. Other than that a perfect autumn day with slight headwind (and welcome "pousse a dos" - my favourite French expression - on the return). 

Opted for the seafood chowder in McBrides, Cushendun, which was excellent and helped me over the Torr trying to outrun either the hound or Richard, who again was using his special 4X4 + farmer +  trailer magnetism, on the last climb.

The loop out to Coleraine was surprisingly rolling on the way - I think there must have been some earthquakes or maybe its part of Brexit because I don't remember any of those climbs from the previous five times I've ridden the route.  Hopefully they'll be gone again before next year.

Signs of randonneurs were everywhere back in Ballycastle with the garage attendant handing out multiple receipts and cycles and cyclists in various states of repair.  I grabbed a sandwich and a wrap for 'ron and dressed for the night.

I left with Darran and Richard, who had just smugly removed a cassette with a "Next Best Thing" and fitted a new spoke in about ten minutes, for one of the nicest ascents to the vanishing lake I've done.

We then re-grouped at the aqueduct for what for me is the best climb in the world (that I've done) - Slievnorra.  400m vertical and about 14km in length, it starts off gently, as a sharp bit with scary geese and then a lovely gentle ride around the edge of a Forest with spectacular views all the way.  Dusk is an ideal time with the tinge of orange all around.

As I had warned - the temperature dropped at night but I was smugly warm in my ever increasing amount of Autumnal clothing.   I grew ravenous into Broughshane but my stash of chicken wraps did the trick - despite me spilling half a chicken tikka.

The Collin road was a painful as ever - but once over that its downhill all the way to the finish -  Richard and I swapping a Darran for a William on the way.  Belfast city centre was busy but no banter.  The Malone road was much hillier than usual.  Back at Boucher I rode through KFC's finest drive through, ate more chicken than is natural and wrapped myself in a sleeping bag.

 

THE FINISH

Half the riders seem to have come in around 9:30 and most of the rest came in around the same time as me.

John (Mc Elroy) roused me out of a deep sleep at an unknown time but he must have tucked me in again because his card was signed and he'd gone by the time I woke properly. 

Conor was lantern rouge just before two, which, with a couple of DNF's with body and bike mechanicals accounted for all of the riders so I could return home without worry. 

I thank them both for letting me know promptly and encourage all to do the same.

 

NEXT YEAR

Subject to the workings of AI, CI and ACP - none of which should be an issue, the Antrim 300 will be back next year in its traditional slot of 1'st weekend in October.

I may CHANGE THE ROUTE next year slightly to include the "dark hedges" - which I have never seen either on screen or in life but seem to be a popular attraction.

Thanks for listening!

Big thanks to Dave for organising a great event.  Great food and great route with some spectacular views.

Best section for me was the bumps between Kingscourt and Baileborough.  Lovely scenery.

When I woke in the morning I was wondering what I was doing up at 5:30 on a Sunday morning with a ninety mile drive and two hundred kilometres of cycling ahead of me.

But when I walked out to the car all the sun was rising, it felt warm, the birds were singing and I knew it was going to be a great day – and it was.

By quarter to eight I’d had two coffees, a pecan slice and was signed on ready to go.  With more than sixty entrants this was a large turnout for a Brevet.

So, the start was fast with a large group rattling away at unlawful speed.

Luckily a mechanical, rear gear cable just came out at the derailleur, saw me off the group. 

 

I joined with some familiar riders but yet another mechanical just before the first control saw me off the back.  This one was a bit more embarrassing.  Post PBP I re-fitted a 50 chain ring on the front for winter club rides.  I didn’t put any links back in the chain but knew not to use the 50/30 combination.  Of course, I’d forgotten this and it pulled my wheel out and locked it!

Silly boy.

First stop at 50 km was well stocked.  I cleaned my hands, ate, ate some more and then pushed on.

No major events on the next stretch.  Was caught and joined a group of 8 or so and we pushed along pretty steadily.  Aiden suggested my rear mudguard was rubbing so I stopped and had a look.  Was my rear light wire.  I was expecting issues around here as the bottom stay has become dethatched from the guard.  Nothing to worry about though.  Just requires yet another SKS mudguard – I seem to get through one a year.

Second stop was unmanned but plenty of garage forecourt!

Again I grouped up with six of us pushing hard (for me anyway) to the last control at 160km, with Dave providing yet more food.

For the last stretch I declined the group as I knew I’d not be able to sustain the pace and with Tara and its steeper successor on the path there was little likelihood of us staying together.

I think I’ve only been over Tara once before on the Carlingford 300 a few years back, and it was dark.  So it was nice to be able to see some of the large potholes at the bottom of the descent.

I eventually got back to Ashbourne in OK state.  I was happy with my first 200 of the year but a long way off my fitness of last year.  The extra 3 bags of sugar, or more accurately pints of beer, around my waste aren’t helping either!

- a long ride deserves a long rant…

Mortagne-au-Perche, nearly 1,100 km done, 10:30 pm Wednesday August 19’th.  It was a long climb up to the Control, I could hear applause up ahead but my light was dim, the dynamo struggling to provide power.  There was a spontaneous groan, a steep ramp and then through the crowds of cheering spectators. 

Someone helped me off my bike.  “Controle?” I shouted, “Par-la” – I stumbled into the bright hall, brevet card in hand ready for the stamp.

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