Nov 17, 2009

If you are interested in entering the Great Lakeland Challenge but want an honest opinion of what to expect, why not have a read of this challenger diary! Created by previous competitor Jim Pettipher, it outlines the experience from a challenger’s point of view!

The road to Hell, so they say, is paved with good intentions. I can now confirm that this is true. And I can even tell you where it is...

I like a bit of a paddle. I like a bit of a bike ride. I even quite enjoy a bit of a stroll in the countryside. And I like the Lake District too – especially on the rare occasions I’ve been when it wasn’t raining.

I read about the Great Lakeland Challenge on the website. You canoe Windermere, you do a 26 mile bike ride, you go for a walk... looks like a great day out I thought. The Great Lakeland Challenge appealed to me.

Luckily it appealed to a couple of young and fit cyclists I know too. Come on I said. We’re all from co-ops. It’s a team event. What could be more co-op than that? They agreed, little realising that my devious plan involved them towing my huge, middle aged bulk over the hilly bits. All was going well until our first team training event... a week and a half before the Challenge itself.

You really don’t want to over train. It’s not good for you.

Everyone came to my house where I introduced them to each other, including our driver – Stuart – who I’d only just asked to join the team. Whilst we’re having a bit of a team paddle, young Paul – super ace racing cyclist – who had betrayed a certain lack of canoe expertise by getting into the canoe facing backwards tells us that he has developed an undiagnosed condition that results in his falling over when under physical stress. We looked at the event profile again. Paul agreed that perhaps he should step down from the team.

At this point we chose to acquaint Stuart (our new driver) with the clause about if one of the team has to drop out, then the driver steps in and takes his place. My wife agreed to be our driver. We had a team. And Stuart had a whole week and a half’s notice. I don’t know what he was whingeing about, I really don’t.

The Challenge starts quite early. All 24 teams were lined up on the water and lined up with the start line in glorious weather at 07.30 hours. All the teams apart from us that is. There was much jostling for position, which all seemed a bit unco-operative so we (I) decided we would do the decent thing and hang back. We may have hung back a bit too much, I concede. On the video that Sally took you can quite clearly hear someone say, “Either that team at the back have given up already or they’re applying the tortoise and the hare principle.”

Anyway, off we paddled in glorious sunshine, once the initial mist cleared. And we couldn’t have been happier. We chatted and bantered and bantered and chatted and paddled and paddled and paddled. It was such fun, at least for the first hour and a half until numb bum set in. We were mightily relieved to get out when we eventually reached the other end.

Still in glorious sunshine, we put the wheels on our bikes, took on some calories mostly in the form of cakes and set off for a bit of a bike ride along the road to hell.

We didn’t know that it was the road to hell of course. We had only driven it. When you drive it, Wrynose & Hardknott look horrible. Truly horrific. When you try and cycle it you realise that they are much, much worse than that.

On the cycle section there was much less chat and banter than there had been in the canoe. We tried to ride up the passes and we failed. We – along with nearly everyone else – walked over them pushing our bikes instead – please note, unless you are a really, really good bike rider and I’m talking comfortably able to do 100 miles in a day, then you’ll need to be wearing shoes you can walk in rather than shoes you can only cycle in. That tip is from Dan.

Dan had additional cause to rue his chosen footwear when one and a half miles from the finish of the bike ride he lost his left hand crank (the arm that the pedal is on the end of) and had to jog the last bit when he couldn’t manage to cycle using one pedal. I regret to say that wasn’t a skill our comprehensive training regime covered.

Anyway, we got to Wasdale Head in the end, where we ditched the bikes put on our running / walking shoes and ate a lot more cake. And then we were off once more to conquer Scafell Pike.

When I say conquer, what I mean is to crawl up in the heat, praying for the return of the famous Lakeland rain that failed to appear as the sun beat down on us. At one point we passed a fellow challenger who was taking a rest.

“It’s not bloody funny anymore is it?” he said.

It took us two painful hours to get up Scafell. I reckon the only thing that kept us going on the way up and on the two hours down was the encouragement and support from all the voluntary marshals on the route. My but they’re good. Thank you to them. And thanks too for all the Jelly Babies.

Eventually, after as near to four hours on the mountain as makes no difference we jogged in to the finish to be met and welcomed by the Challengers that finished ahead of us (a lot of them looked suspiciously like they had practiced beforehand). We stayed as long as we could and clapped in those that followed behind us.

That evening all Challengers and marshals shared a celebration dinner and – I believe – quite a few beers. I can’t honestly say that I know because I was so knackered I retired to bed.

Now here’s the strange thing. We had an absolutely fantastic day, despite the pain and the lack of preparation – it seems you’re not supposed to focus solely on the interval in interval training or the loading bit of carb loading... who knew?

So good, we have committed to doing it again next time. Only this time we’re going to lose weight. And train. And raise more money for Wooden Spoon, which is all that really matters.

Now, where is the start of that road to Hell again?