A view from the saddle: Loving the lycra...hating the hail

Saturday morning, raring to go...

Day One – Cycling the sand storms with a dose of Viagra.

Yet to experience the relentless hills, freak hail storms, a creepy Viagra man, benevolent motorcyclists and panic attacks galore, we set off in high spirits having already raised over £1000 in aid of the Yorkshire Air Ambulance.

Blissfully unaware of the severe weather warnings, we cycled through the sunshine on relatively flat terrain, an easy 30 miles before stopping for a hearty pub lunch. The only ominous sounds came from Vicky’s bike which started creaking five minutes into the ride: this would grate on us all the way to Lancaster. The afternoon slog consisted of strong winds which managed to whip up a sand storm in a nearby field, soon followed by heavy rains… and did we mention the hills? After what seemed like hours of vertical cycling, drenched to the core, we thought we were about to lose Amy to an asthma attack.

False alarm, it was “only” panic.

We were later treated to some of the local friendliness: an old man appeared on the scene, hovering near our table and muttering disturbing phrases such as ‘I wish I hadn’t taken that Viagra.'

Hours later, faced with yet another arduous ascent, Joey decided enough was enough and spoke for us all when she stopped cycling, declaring, “I’m going in there!” gesturing to a welcoming pub. With 30 miles still to go on the first day and with the prospect of cycling until nearly midnight in the pouring rain, we called the support car to take us the final leg to the lodge house. Said-support car then broke down. We had to support it by pushing it up a hill. The support car managed to drop half of the team at the lodge house and turned back to pick up the rest. Happily expecting them to walk in any minute, we tucked into another meal at the nearby pub.

We were later treated to some of the local friendliness: an old man appeared on the scene, hovering near our table and muttering disturbing phrases such as ‘I wish I hadn’t taken that Viagra’ (his hands occupied in most perturbing activities).

Meanwhile, in the middle of nowhere the support car was going precisely nowhere. All the pushing was fruitless. Fortunately for Vicky, on whom we considered letting the Viagra-man loose, in exchange for the possibility of borrowing his car, we were saved by Jo’s knight in shining armour who drove all the way from York to ferry the rest of the team and the bikes to the lodge house. 11 hours after leaving Joey’s pub, at the horrendous hour of 4am, everyone finally got into their sleeping bags.

Day Two – Hail, hail, hail… No, it’s not an angel, it’s more bloody hail.

Either we had never paid attention in geography lessons at school or no-one had actually warned us just how hilly the Pennines are.

As the sun rose, Jo spotted the glorious words CAFÉ sprawled on the side of a white washed cottage from the window of the (by now sweaty and smelly) lodge house. After lining our stomachs with pints of hot beverages and heavy breakfasts we set off with yet another burst of optimism. Either we had never paid attention in geography lessons at school or no-one had actually warned us just how hilly the Pennines are.

Yes, they are actually mountains.

After tackling the hills with gusto we were treated to our first of many hail storms. Imagine yourself on a driving range, being pelted by golf balls while travelling at the speed of approximately 20 mph, and you are somewhere near approaching how we felt. Ice storms didn’t bode well with Vicky’s hypothermic tendencies. We wrapped her soaking wet gloves in plastic bags and dressed her in water proof bottoms several sizes too big. Unfortunately sexy lycra clad legs were concealed in something more like the Michelin man.

Unfortunately sexy lycra clad legs were concealed in something more like the Michelin man.

By the time the second, third and fourth hail storms hit us we were no longer crying, but instead laughing and swearing at the hilarity of our situation. On the plus side there were plenty of harsh inclines to warm us up, only to freeze again on the downhill stretches.

We stopped for the last of our lovely pub lunches with “only” 20 miles to go. Finally we were on the endless road approaching the elusive Lancaster, which appeared to be retreating into the horizon, always behind the next hill.

We expected to find heaps of money at the end of the rainbow to counter all the bad luck we’d had. Instead came something much better… Jaffa cakes and lemonade. After two days of pissing in bushes, being drowned continuously, and eating dangerous amounts of sugar to keep us peddling, we finally arrived at Lancaster University. Dreary student halls of residence had never looked so appealing.

Hot drinks and a dose of KFC set us on our way back to York. This time reclining in a heated car rather than slogging it on a hard saddle. After such a lovely weekend we decided to sign up for the summer ride to Amsterdam. There aren't any hills in the Netherlands, or has our geography let us down again?

To make a donation to the Yorkshire Air Ambulance click here.

We’d like to thank our guides from Charity Adventure Maz, Gaz ‘n’ Craz, without whom we would never have made it to Lancaster.

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