Cleveland Wheelers

After a 5am rise we picked up Dave and his impressive stock of sandwiches at 6am. A fairly traffic free drive saw us reach Whitehaven at about twenty past eight. Just before this Dave treated us to one of his jokes ‘I see no ships, only hardships’. It was to be the first of many, unfortunately for me.

After using the Tesco toilet to lighten the load – every little helps! – and getting my bike ready I left Dave lying in Tesco’s car park stretching his back and fussing over his sandwiches while I wandered off trying to find a way of dipping my back wheel into the harbour, technically the Irish Sea. I must have looked suitably clueless because soon a local man took charge of the situation and led me to the proper place, a sculpture that has been erected on a slipway into the harbour to mark the official start point of the C2C. I did wonder if he was employed by the good people of Whitehaven to make sure that witless cyclists do the ride properly and don’t just set off from the Tesco car park. Once my sister Sarah had taken the requisite photo I rode back to meet Dave and we began the ride at a quarter to nine.

Straight away you are faced with the climb out of Whitehaven which lasts about half a mile and is around 8% or so. Once we were over this we headed off in a south westerly direction with the wind right behind us and despite the heavy traffic it was good to get the ride under way after all the preparation. The first 20 miles flew by in little more than an hour and it wasn’t until we turned south just after Cockermouth that we had to work into a wind, the drop in speed came as a bit of a shock to the system but soon we were heading south east again and were holding our own against a side wind.

All this talk of wind makes it sound as though we were obsessed, and indeed this was true. Normally bikers like light winds, or no wind, as rides normally have the same start and end point. In a linear ride though you only think about direction. Our conversations on training rides over the previous two weeks had gone something like this:

Me (when referring to the easterly winds): Imagine if the wind direction is like this on the day?

Dave: Nightmare

Or vice versa, we even started sending each other emails and texts along similar lines, each passing comment on wind direction or strength, and who says cyclists have limited conversations! A few days before though I noticed that the Met Office website was predicting a change so our communication took on a more optimistic tone. For wind enthusiasts out there the direction in Cumbria at the start of the ride was a South Westerly and the strength 12 mph rising to 15mph later in the day. The day before there had been Westerly gales of around 35mph which sounds really good but would have been quite scary on some of the descents over the Pennines.

So here we were breezing along, literally, the wind at our backs, the rain holding off, perfect. After 45 miles we got to Penrith and said farewell to the A66. For me the next stretch was one of the hardest of the day, a couple of hours in and with the initial freshness gone from my legs the rolling heavy road started to take its toll a little. I mentioned this to Dave as we approached the Hartside climb, mainly to prevent him going up too hard, but also to seek reassurance ‘was he finding it hard too?’ I thought. He seemed quite easy and said that the roads were a bit heavy and that we’d take it easy on the climb. Strangely enough once on the climb I felt good, at 5 miles long and around 6% it’s the sort of climb where you can get into a rhythm and keep it there and after half an hour we were at the 1,900 foot summit, the high point of the ride and a magnificent view. There was a problem though, where was our support vehicle? My wife and sister had arranged to meet us here so we could take on energy drinks and food. We had planned two stops, one here at around the 60 mile point and another at Staindrop at around 100 miles. It was pretty cold and we didn’t fancy hanging around so I made a quick call on my mobile. The estimated meeting times that I had given were based on an average of about 16-17 mph and with a following wind most of the way we were well ahead of schedule and they were just outside Penrith.

Five minutes later and we were belting down to Alston hitting 35 – 45 mph most of the way, a great bit of the ride. The ride up Alston High Street on the other hand was one of the worst. It’s not exactly cobbles, rather uneven polished bricks, but they shake you to bits just the same and it was a relief when they were over. A few miles down the road and our support vehicle containing my wife Shelly, my sister Sarah and more importantly Dave’s sandwiches caught us up. We were at the 65 mile point, nearly halfway, and as I watched Dave tuck into to his sandwiches I realised that all the food that I had brought was banana flavoured, especially the bananas, stands to reason I suppose. Well almost, I had seven energy bars and six were banana flavoured, the other one being chocolate orange flavoured and almost uneatable. I looked over at Dave enviously.

The next stretch was possibly the hardest, especially the long drag as you approach the Durham border. It’s around three miles or so and probably not much more than 4% but we were into a stiff head/cross wind and it was surprisingly tough, this was where Dave had his bad patch. Once over this the road swung back towards the east and we followed the valley past High Force, through Middleton in Teesdale and on towards our second stop at Staindrop.

40 miles to go and most of it flat, we had to negotiate Darlington Centre and Yarm High Street, easy places to have a mishap among the traffic, but we got through okay and once we were over Leven Bank we knew we had done it. We both felt quite good on this last bit and did the last 40 miles in 1 hour 50 minutes. We finally arrived at Redcar sea front at 4.25pm after 7 hours 40 minutes total time and 7 hours 4 minutes ride time. We were surprised that we had done it so quick, averaging 19.3 mph, but we had good conditions and favourable winds most of the way. The tide was right out so down the beach we trudged carrying our bikes for about a quarter of a mile so we could get the photograph. There was no Redcar equivalent of the Whitehaven man to show us the way but that was no excuse, it had to be done.

At the time of writing we think we have raised about £450 – £500 for Middlesbrough Mind so there was a great sense of achievement. As a ride I would thoroughly recommend it, Whitehaven seems the obvious place to start and the Hartside climb is almost essential but once you reach Alston how you get to the East Coast is up to you, whichever route you do it works out at around the same distance – ours was 137 miles. It’s tough but not too tough and is well within the scope of most club cyclists within a day. Make sure you do it on a day without a head wind though, we reckon it would have taken us about 1-2 hours longer if it had been an easterly wind and it would affect morale. Oh yes and another thing, follow Dave’s example when planning your food rather than mine and pack some sandwiches!

Paul Christon – October 2009

‘I think they’ve made a mistake’ said Wendy Smith, mother of Marcus, Daniel and Nick ‘they’ve got you down as a vet’.

‘I am, I’m 42’, I replied.

She looked a little surprised then ruined it all by saying ‘yeah I suppose vets start at 40 don’t they?’

I took it as a compliment nonetheless and with that slight boost to my ego I took the start line and by the time I’d finished at the top of the hill I felt all of the 42 years 1 month and 5 weeks that I’d been on the planet. Before the start I’d made a point of talking to fellow competitors and club members as much to forget about what I was about to do as anything. Bryan Bevis and Andrew Howe were taking to their tandem and seemed relaxed – how they get that machine up the hill at all is staggering. They more than anything sum up what this event is all about, the enthusiasm of youth and the benefit of experience, where did that leave me as I possessed neither! I talked to Ian Hutchinson as he warmed up on his trainer just outside the café, he didn’t seem too confident but as always he would put in a good performance. John Kelly and perennial organiser Bill Leaver seemed in good spirits as well they might as they were at the top of the hill and would stay there for the duration. Steve Turner looked equally happy to be marshalling at the left hand turn near the cattle grid, I waved as I carried on downwards. Meanwhile at the bottom of the hill Dave Kirton had taken the unusual decision to set his trainer up near a dead rabbit, he offered no explanation for this so focused as he was on breaking 8 minutes, which he did by the way.

They were calling my minute man to the line, not long now. Here’s a confession for you, I’m a hill climb virgin, yes that’s right I’m glad that’s out in the open, but even so I was surprised how nervous I felt. It’s just another time trial I told myself, except it wasn’t was it? I’ve always considered my relative strength to be climbing as opposed to riding on the flat, or downhill. Trouble was it just dawned on me that most of the people doing this would too, otherwise why do it? This is no event to enter casually and so to some extent a selection is already made before the start line is taken. I’d agreed some modest goals with myself, under nine minutes minimum, 8.40 ideally, a vet placing hopefully. I’d done two training runs around four weeks previous then deliberately kept off the hill so I wouldn’t remember every awful and painful bit of it; well that was the theory anyway. Those two runs took me nine minutes exactly and 9.10 but when I saw where the finish line was when I descended the hill I realised that I had timed myself to a point a bit further up the road, ‘got to be worth 10 seconds’ I thought, also no tools, tubes or water bottle and with fresh legs, maybe I could do 8.30?

30 seconds to go and I’m clipping in while ably supported by Chris Smith, I tell him that I removed the bottle cage and mini pump the night before to save weight, I’m sure he sensed my nervousness. The time keeper says 15. Between my last run up Carlton Bank in early September and now, I’d ridden up a lot of hills, some long, some steep but none as hard. Wilton Bank near to my home has been the most visited and I feel as though I know all of its quarter mile 20% slopes intimately, how I hate that hill. Carlton Bank takes residence in a darker place in my psyche though as it’s the only hill that has defeated me. Last year I decided to see how quickly I could go up it and I underestimated it, set off too quickly and just after the left hand turn after the cattle grid I ran out of gas and had to turn round. No one was there to see it but me and I’ve ridden up it several times since but I’ve yet to exorcise that painful and intimidating experience fully from my memory.

Ten seconds, 5,4,3,2,1 a generous push from Mr Smith and I’m off. I’ve started in the middle sprocket of nine and bearing in mind my previous humiliation on the hill I’m taking the first part easy, I’m not going to look at the computer till I pass Steve Turner on the corner. One thing I had noticed on the ride down to the start was the people dotted all over the place, some going up, some going down, others looking for the best vantage point to watch us suffer. I shouldn’t have been surprised as it was a beautiful cloudless day and I’ve watched the hill climb myself in the past, so I knew that it attracted a good crowd, not exactly Alpe D’Huez or Mount Ventoux but by British cycling standards pretty good, and as such there was a buzz on the hill. Question is will they inspire me or will I buckle under the pressure? I’m hoping that the Coast to Coast ride from 11 days earlier and the 50 in 4 race, sorry tourist trial, will have left me with good legs but as Sean Kelly would have said if he’d been commentating ‘it’s difficult to say’ and so it was as I’d just set off.

Bryan and Andrew will have finished on the tandem by now I thought, and what’s more Andrew will be riding back down the hill to compete as an individual too, does he love this hill!? The road suddenly rises, one of its many infernal ramps, and I click down a gear, only three below this one, but I’m feeling good, so far. Why didn’t I do this in my twenties when I had lungs? At the end of August during a club run I suggested going up Scarth Nick and after a few groans everyone complied, but soon it was me that was groaning as Harry Tanfield and Richard Lilleker disappeared ahead round the hairpins. Richard had said earlier that he was doing the hill climb, well that’s that I thought.

The green fence appears on the left, another ramp and another click down, then another, only one to go, then the cattle grid, my minute man is within reach and I close as the road steepens to the corner, I knew he set off too fast. I turn left as Steve offers some encouragement and someone takes a photo, John Main I think, and there it goes another click and my last gear is gone. I look at the computer and it says 4 minutes something, I think it was at 5 minutes something on my training runs but I can’t be sure. When I looked at the start sheet I picked out two names to aim for, Paul Howe and Ian Hutchinson, both Cleveland Wheelers, both vets, Ian normally beats me in the club time trials, Paul does half the time, most of the other names looked too fast, even the ones that were not familiar.

The next ramp and the first of the crowds, what an awful climb why can’t the gradient make its stupid mind up? I pass my minute man and now it’s hurting, someone is stood out in the road yelling at me to try harder, or words to that effect, I don’t know who he is. An easing of the gradient then another little ramp, I recognise Steve Binks and Phil Meadows, I think. My legs, normally my limiting factor, feel okay but my breathing is starting to sound like an ancient pair of bellows. If I was a true competitor I would now be thinking ‘right give it all you’ve got every second, in fact every tenth of a second, counts’. Instead what I’m thinking is ‘there’s that wonderful chequered finishing board, the pain is almost over’. I later find out that Paul Howe has beaten me by point three of a second; surely I could have eked out that bit more couldn’t I? Probably not. I glimpse down at my computer as I pass John Kelly and Norman Bielby on the finish line, 8 minutes 20 seconds or so then I ride on over the hill gulping for oxygen.

After a partial recovery I ride back to join my wife and cheer in the rest of the competitors. She’s stood next to Richard Lilleker’s relatives, he does 7.05, sixth overall and fastest Cleveland Wheeler, I knew he was going to be quick, Richard Meadows wins in 6.20 – he would have caught me on the line for two minutes!

After all the riders have finished Mrs Smith comes past, has she walked all the way up the hill?

‘Did you do a good time?’ she asks

‘Good for me’, I reply.

She smiles ‘That’s the main thing’, she says.

As the winners collect their prizes I notice that they are uniformly thin and mostly young, I’m hardly a heavyweight myself but all of a sudden I feel a bit lardy. Geoff Robinson’s untimely puncture means I get the prize for sixth veteran and Dave Kirton and I agree that we are too old for this, saying that Dave is only 35. Then we talk about entering a tandem next year and having glimpsed a view of the unique trophy for that category we almost convince ourselves that it is a good idea.

Top three
1st	Richard Meadows	Velo 29	6.20.7
2nd	Tony McKenna	Middridge CRT	6.50.7
3rd	Chris Leverton	Altura	6.56.8
Cleveland Wheelers’ riders
6th	Richard Lilleker		7.05.9
14th	Jack Thompson		7.37.9
15th	Dave Kirton		7.57.9
18th	Paul Howe		8.20.6
19th	Paul Christon		8.20.9
20th	Ian Hutchinson		8.24.2
25th	Andrew Howe		10.02.06
26th	Vicki Howe		11.17.2
28th	Katie Howe		11.37.4
1st	Bryan Bevis and Andrew Howe (tandem)		12.22.6

Well done everybody and see you next year, though I’ll probably revert to being a spectator!

Paul Christon – October 2009

As you know long time club member, John Johnson, was tragically killed whilst out on a ride on Saturday 12th September, 2009.

John joined the club around 1974 as a 16 year old and soon became one of ‘the group’. He very rarely missing a club run and competed in most types of events: time trialling, road racing, and cyclo cross. His name appears on a number of club trophies and his main claim to fame was winning the TCA hill climb at Kildale in 1977. He was also elected to the club committee for a short time in the late 70’s.

However my main memories are of those club runs and his fearless descending. Two instances spring to mind :-

1. Descending from the Bilsdale mast and bouncing off the safety barrier but keeping upright and
2. Descending the side of Clay, missing a corner and disappearing down into the woods. The rest of the club run laughing at his misfortune.

He was also a member of the quartet who used to always sing (very badly) at the top of our voices as we rode along. The other members being Andrew Allen, Steve Maidens and myself. John loved his music, The Moody Blues being his favourite band after he was introduced to them by my brother, Mike.

John met his wife in 1980 and they got married in 1981 a day I again remember very vividly as I was his best man, a job which I was very proud to undertake.

John leaves behind his wife, Angela, and sons and daughter, Andrew, Philippa and David.

RIP John

Steve Binks – October 2009

I watch quite a lot of cycle racing on TV, an unhealthy amount some might say. So the voices of David Harmon and Sean Kelly have almost become part of the household. I’ve never really given it much thought I just assumed that everyone enjoyed them as much as I did, until the other day that is. Over the last year my wife Shelly has started to enjoy watching cycling, and Mark Cavendish in particular. While I’m a fan of Cavendish myself it is a little like supporting Man Utd, ‘oh he’s won again, what a surprise. Somewhat naively though I assumed that she enjoyed the whole experience. So imagine my horror when during a stage of the Vuelta she referred to the legend that is Sean Kelly as ‘that boring bloke’. First I went upstairs to get my Kelly biography from 1985 so I could start reading out his palmares, and remember that he raced for a number of years after this. ‘He won the Green Jersey four times’ the Paris Nice seven times in a row, the Vuelta, Paris Roubaix twice…’ and on and on I went. It wasn’t until I mentioned that he likes donkeys that she started to warm to him a little, sadly this wasn’t enough though and she stuck by her view.

I struggled to come to terms with this to be honest and found myself offloading my anguish to Dave Kirton as we trained for our upcoming Coast to Coast ride. As I recollected my wife’s comments he sympathised saying that his fiancée Rebecca had much the same opinion (she confirmed this later when she met us as we looked at Dave’s collection of bikes – something that gives us all pleasure). Dave said that he finds Kelly’s voice quite soothing which adds to his enjoyment – maybe the great man should develop a sideline of reading children’s’ bedtime stories? I must remember to write to him to suggest that he gives this some thought.

What troubles me more though is that fellow riders who are too young to remember Kelly as a rider, or are new to the sport of cycling, might have much the same opinion ‘that boring bloke on Eurosport’. In the modern peleton there isn’t really a rider that you could compare to Kelly, someone who can compete for an overall classification in a Grand Tour as well as winning the points competition yet can also dominate in the classics. On Eurosport David Harmon will often attempt to coax Kelly to talk about his career but he tends to avoid it and remains silent. In fact he famously nodded when asked a question in a radio interview. Kelly is much more comfortable when giving the view from inside the peleton as it were and there are few more qualified to do this. For example he rarely gets it wrong when asked if he thinks a break will stay away, ‘it’s going to be difficult’ he will simply say more often than not and leave it at that. What I like about him is that he doesn’t get drawn into that tendency to be over analytical that so many ‘experts’ do preferring to give simple and straightforward answers that aren’t designed to impress the average viewer. However if you find him difficult to listen to there are a few things that I could suggest that may help. Having spent some time defending him I have to admit that he is economical in his use of vocabulary, so to add interest to your viewing you can play ‘Kelly Bingo’ and count the times that he will say the following and then compare them with subsequent broadcasts:

1. ‘He’ll pay the price’ (when someone is expending effort unnecessarily)
2. ‘It’s not majorly difficult’ (when referring to an easy climb)
3. ‘It’s difficult to say’ (classic Kelly non-committal)
4. ‘He’ll struggle to hang in there’ ( when a rider is suffering like a dog at the back of the bunch)
5. ‘It’s a difficult one’ (a subtle Kelly variation on number 3)
6. ‘errrrm’ (used to get most of his sentences underway)

Or, as Dave does, you can tape him then listen to his soothing tones as a means of relaxing after a stressful day. Either way your life will be enriched and you’ll wonder how you ever got by without him.

Paul Christon – September 2009

In the book Zen and Art of Motorcycle Maintenance it has a disclaimer in it at the start which effectively says that it’s not much use if you want to find out more about Zen Buddhism or motorcycles. In a similar vein this article will not inform you much about cycle maintenance or Len for that matter.

Many years ago, about 23 or so actually, I knew a guy called Len and he rode a bike. Not a very good one it has to be said, especially after he had owned it for a few years. Maintenance was an alien concept to him you see and he would often be mocked by his cycling friends. They would point out that riding around with fraying brake cables, a chain that had no relationship with oil (fancy lubes and the like hadn’t yet been invented) and tyres that had bits of their carcass hanging off them was simply courting disaster. But he took no notice, he didn’t care and poo pooed their advice, until that is his front brake cable snapped as he descended Saltburn Bank. These were the days when brakes were made by Weinmann and didn’t really do much at the best of times, especially the back ones – you don’t know you’re born with modern brakes, you really don’t. A near death experience followed as he used the not to be recommended technique of jamming your foot between the fork and the front tyre. From that day onwards I, I mean Len, became a reformed character but now it’s getting out of hand.

Okay time to come clean, yes it is me I’m talking about, I was that maverick character. Trouble is I’ve become obsessive about everything being just so on my bikes, and what’s more it’s spreading to the bikes of others. It’s been getting worse over the last year as I’ve been doing the club runs. Harry Tanfield’s loose mudguard is driving me to distraction – he knows this and taunts me with it – John Kelly’s loose headset, Mick Rennison’s cassette that wasn’t secured properly, they make me want to stop and fix them. I know that this is unreasonable, they don’t care so why should I? I don’t really know the answer to that. I struggle to ride a bike now if there’s anything wrong with it, the other week I developed a squeak, or rather my bike did, and I convinced myself that it was the bottom bracket but after stripping things down I found it to be a misbehaving saddle! So off it went, no second chances as far as I’m concerned, and it was callously thrown into a spare parts box never to see the light of day again. Similarly some ancient squeaky brakes that I had on my winter bike, ironically they were made by Weinmann, just kept doing it despite my warnings, so they too have gone and will probably make an appearance at the Bring and Buy Sale. Classic Weinmann brakes in resplendent gold circa 1975 anyone?

On reflection though I think that it’s all worth it. Is there anything more enjoyable, more perfect than a well maintained machine as you glide along on smooth bearings, a well aligned chain and properly secured components, it’s almost like achieving a state of Zen isn’t it?

Paul Christon – September 2009