A short guardian article on fueling up for a multi-day mountain bike race (the trans-alp. Ahhhh, it rings so many bells, the furred teeth and peculiar tummy….
On an unrelated note, I did some hills around the Uni yesterday. I mean they aren’t big hills, but 3 reps of one of them was a good start. If I run back tonight, and do a run this weekend, I will be doing 4 training sessions this week. Must keep it up.
Posted in Nutrition
Just grabbed the following from Jacky’s SnapFish site.
There may be more to come and i will update when I can. Enjoy!
Posted in The race
Managed to get back running yesterday, for a short bimble around campus. All this without too much pain from my ribs. I was surprisingly tight, given that the race ended a week and a half ago and I have been on my bike quite a lot. It would be interesting to know how long it actually takes for you to recover.
The gym this morning was a different matter. I seem to have been moving backwards, but then the amount of weight I can left should not really be that important to me, and it isn’t….except when you look at what other people are lifting and compare yourself to them.
Repeat 100 times:
I run, I bike, sometimes long distances. I don’t need to be able to bench that much. that is for other people.
Trying to find the next challenge. I have the Clarendon Way Marathon in October, so I must keep up the long runs, but then what? I quite fancy an adventure race….
Posted in Training
The start was exciting because simply leaving the harbour as part of the parade of yachts was quite challenging into the wind and waves. Sanoodi looked like she would struggle to reach the line and several boats were late. The race signals were a bit inaccurate but skipper Bill had us starting at the favoured end within twenty seconds of the signal with as much sail as we could manage. We had two reefs in the main sail but full genoa (jib). It was a very long slog into the wind to get round Bardsey Head. Anton and I sat on the windward rail in full waterproofs to give some leverage just like in Cowes Week but we got drenched to our underwear which was foolish. Faster fin keel boats got round the headland in one tack but we were pushed to leeward and had to zig zag along the peninsula to reach the point. We saw a pod of dolphins and I managed to make a cup of tea but this was a strenuous patch. After we rounded the head we passed through Hell’s Mouth (and kept going!) I was steering a course between the rocks and the tidal race in a lane about twenty yards wide. All was well till we had a crash gybe and the boom slammed over. I saw a shackle fly off and Bill swore. We had broken a boom block and needed to replace it fast. Engineering talent and bravery saw Pete and Bill up on the side deck with ropes to take the load. While I tried to keep out of the tiderace they laboriously replaced the broken part and rethreaded the lines. At last we were able to get back on course in the calmer water close to the rocks. It was an exciting downwind slalom round the corner and along the rocks out of the tide. Eventually as dusk fell the current eased and we were ready to cross over towards Caernarvon Bar. Past low water with our shallow draft we were able to creep up the channel with just a couple of frights when we lost our bearings briefly and when we saw a larger boat lying on its side on the edge of the channel. We found out later it was Nunatak who ran aground. It was now truly dark with no moon as we passed the buoy marking the eastern edge of the motoring area and prepared to drop the runners and get some kip.
Leg Two Caernarvon to Whitehaven
Two tired runners returned before we had eaten breakfast so we cooked and ate porridge on our way up the Menai Straits. They paid little attention to our battle with Paget’s Lady as we dodged the tide along one bank and the opposition took the other shore. Gradually we pulled out on them and eventually we put up our spinnaker and headed for the first Bridge. Bill knew the channel with pinpoint precision and even with the tide against us we never faltered and never had to call for the oars. We passed the Swellies Rock, nadir of the journey, in ten minutes, where the other Topsham boat RBS Adventure Quest had taken 90 minutes only a few hours before. We crossed the channel and passed under the left span of the Menai bridge. Paget’s Lady had tried their spinnaker but in the unsteady winds put it away. We hurtled on at high speed past Beaumaris and up to Puffin Island. Wary of past years’ disasters we chose to follow the deeper channel round the point and were able to see Beach Fox a mile or so in front leading the way across the Irish sea. Many hours passed with Pete and I trying to coax all speed out of the pink spinnaker. The larger boats in sight didn’t gain on us as we surfed towards Whitehaven. Bill’s course took us away from rough water along a line of gas rigs and past Sellafield nuclear plant. At one point a vicious squall appeared to our left and we dropped the spinnaker for the duration as it howled and rain flattened the surface of the sea. As the skies cleared we put up our big sail again but in a gust of wind it exploded with a bang and we were left with a tattered pile of rags. For a while we continued under white sails only but as Paget’s Lady loomed behind us and darkness fell we realised we needed the smaller blue spinnaker to keep them behind and give our runners a headstart. We closed St Bees Head with the new sail up and entered the lock at Whitehaven having kept the larger boat twenty minutes behind us after sixteen hours of sailing. As we dropped the boys on the fuel pontoon for their second night of insane hill climbing and greeted Bridget and Jake we were thrilled with progress so far. We were ashore in eleventh place.
Leg Three Whitehaven to Corpach
All too soon we had the call to say the runners were nearly home. We had slept showered and shopped so were ready to go. Compassion at their muddy state and disgust of sharing a bunk with them unwashed allowed them a quick shower while we moved the boat round to the lock. As they jumped aboard clean and cheerful Paget’s Lady dragged her boys straight off the hill and we locked out together for another battle. The tide was just right for a getaway unlike several other teams who had spent hours on the sand. We set a course for the Mull of Galloway and pulled steadily away from Mr Paget who seemed to like sailing under jib alone. A couple of times he pulled out some mainsail but thought better of it again. Eventually he was a dwindling speck behind us and we were away. The seas along the Mull were rough and the tide was once more against us. Bill listened to the forecast and held a short crew meeting. In view of the impending Southerly gale and the prospect of a night running down alee shore he proposed to take us across the North Channel to Ireland to keep upwind and seek shelter if needed. We still had the large genoa up and he felt we might need to change to the storm sails. Accordingly Pete had a wild two hours steering us across to Larne where we picked up the lights for the harbour. We planned to anchor in a little bay with an island to the South for shelter. Tiredness and bad luck allowed us to misjudge our entry and we hit a rock at the entrance with a loud bang that had Anton and Colin awake in an instant. Relief all round as we checked the bilges and found no leaks. We anchored with only minor trouble as Pete’s lifejacket erupted into glowing green action making me hysterical with laughter not for the last time. Then we settled down for a quick nap. Some time later the rather shame faced crew brewed up tea and porridge and plotted how to get back to Scotland. We had to run north along the Irish coast and pick our moment to cross to the top of the Mull of Kintyre and enter the Sound of Jura. With just a scrap of main and a well rolled jib we set off. We broached about every ten minutes despite our best efforts. This turns the boat abruptly into the wind rolled onto its side but apart from acting like a washing machine on a spin cycle on the boat’s contents no real harm occurs. The runners seemed imperturbable as they probably thought this was normal for sailing boats. We crossed the channel in a rising wind with spray blowing off the wave tops and whirlpools appearing beside the boat. Pete had copped the hardest bit again and even he was struggling. It was clear we needed less sail still, or none at all, but conditions were dangerous for working on the foredeck. Luckily the sea sickness patch I put on had induced a state of manic euphoria so I clipped my harness onto the lifelines and went forward without a qualm. Under jib alone we were more controlled and slid into the sound at last. As we edged along Islay the wind fell and we gradually pulled up the sails again. Once more the tide turned and we crept along the shore. Here the runners started a Natural History tour with bird watching, animal spotting and geological formations explained. They were starting to revive and take an interest and make awful jokes. They were on deck at dusk as we passed the fearsome Corryvreckan whirlpool which was mercifully quiet. We had heard by now that in the night we had let some five boats slip past and morale had slipped a bit. At two in the morning we had a message from home to say we were catching up so in pitch dark while the skipper tried to rest his maniac crew put the spinnaker back up. The last run through the islands at dawn was thrilling. We took calculated short cuts and navigated unlit channels to save time. Over the next four hours we caught up fifteen miles and by morning we could see three boats stuck at the Corran narrows in no air. The wall of wind that had blown us up the channel held good. Overpressed and broaching every few minutes we stormed up on the other boats. A few minutes rowing more to hold us on course than for forward progress saw us through the whirlpools at Corran. Katabatic winds and patches of calm made the last few miles challenging but we were straining for the finish and as we slipped round the last buoy we were determined to drop our runners on the shore ahead. Avoiding the queue for the pontoon we used a convenient jetty and incurred the wrath of the other boats. Exhausted we tied up at the pontoon and fell into the recently vacated pits the runners had occupied for two days. It was all over bar the champagne reception at the finish some five hours later. This was fantastic sailing on a wonderful sea boat with a superb skipper and crew and I enjoyed every minute. Again? You bet.
Posted in Uncategorized
“I don’t know, I have never Kipled….”
It works better in real life.
This from the BBC Tour De France coverage
1407: Lunchtime and a few of the riders rummage around for some form of carbohydrate-heavy snack, one rider (apologies, I couldn’t quite see who it was) eats what looks like a Mr Kiplings apple pie (other apple pie-based brands available).
Colin and I followed a similar strategy, although we prefer the Cherry Bakewells. I hadn’t realised what company we were keeping, but it is the food of gods.
