Report: Bealach Mor Sportive 2015
09 Sep 2015| Date | September 5, 2015 |
| Distance | 89.4 miles / 143.9 km |
| Elevation Gain | 8,353 feet / 2,545.99m |
| Conditions | Dry. Cloudy. Temp: 10°C Wind: 11mph NW |
| Route | https://www.strava.com/routes/3199710 |
| Official Time | 05:24:17 (20th) |
Last year, I climbed the Bealach Na Ba climb with Nico and Nicky P at the end of what was the toughest day of cycling I had ever completed. The daddy of all climbs in the UK, conquered after 200-odd miles at 1am in the morning, with no working lights. Bonkers. You'd think that would be enough to deter me from doing it again but I am a cyclist and, let's be honest, we a bit "no-right" in the head at times. I had yet to witness the Bealach in its full imposing glory. I hadn't been on that road since that night, indeed, I had NEVER seen that road. So despite already having ticked the climb from the bucket list - I had still had some beef with this one, I would get stare the Bealach right in the eye this time.
A grueling drive straight after work, via Kyle of Lochalsh to drop my colleague off, saw me arrive at the bunkhouse at Ledgowan lodge in Achnasheen at about 10:15. A stag was standing about 10 foot from where I parked up - reminding me of the last time I climbed the Bealach - we thought we were being watched by a stag. There was no night of heavy drinking for me, the good name of COG Velo restored after the apparent disgrace of last year :-p, I had a blether with my roommate for a bit - a guy from Edinburgh RC who occasionally teaches at DJCAD and commutes in from his father-in-laws house in Errol (Small world) - lights were off by 11!
I knew my legs would be attacked again and again today, but I hadn't antipated those attacks coming from the 30 million midges that were waiting for me in the car park just outside Kinlochewe. Shoes and helmet on, bike off the rack in record time. Got registered, met up with Ed (my collegue who I'd dropped off last night), Cat and Ewan and (after getting some coffee to escape the midges) Mr Rod Fleming.
Rod brought a fresh supply of optimism. He and I decided that 2 hours would be too short to cover the 38 miles before the Bealach climb (and thus the road closure). We didn't want to get held up there so we held back, waving off the majority of riders desperate to head off at 9am - probably to get away from the midges. We headed off at about 9:15 and in what I have observed to be a COG tradition, the green jerseys (Rod and I) found ourselves setting a lung-busting pace at the front. There were some guys who clearly had never ridden in a group before as well as a few from Orkney and two Dundee Wheelers.
In a flashback to last years Tour of the Borders, the road very quickly started to point upwards, we hit the "Cat 3" climb out of Kinlochewe. I dropped off. I'd been sustaining 350w at the front, I couldn't manage the 550w required to keep Rod by my side. Spat out of the back before we'd even really got going. Damn. All I'd wanted to do was stay with the group until the climb, now I was screwed. At the top of the climb were some traffic-light controlled roadworks. The light was red, I was in luck. We regrouped and settled into a tailwind-assisted half-working rotating paceline on the descent into Achnasheen.
After the roundabout in Achnasheen, we headed into a bit of a headwind. We seemed to move into single file and I took a lengthy turn on the front. After what felt like about 5 minutes (which in reality was probably about 1), I pulled off keen not to blow up too soon. I looked back but couldn't see Rod. I dropped to the back of the group and looked behind and there was no sign of him. I reckoned he must have punctured or something but he'd get back on, or at least he'd catch me on the climb.
By the time the nice EU funded smooth Tarmac turned to standard Scottish potholed single track, we'd formed what seemed a nice wee group - around 8 of us - fairly tight apart from a couple of guys. One in particular - who had a bad habit of surging off the front and standing up randomly - unknowingly risked breaking the group up. There were a few dodgy moments caused by them and I think the pace was a futile collective attempt to shake them off as much a dash for time.
I was faring quite well when we hit Lochcarron. This was a good group to be in - was happy in the knowledge that most of them would leave me when the climb got serious though. However, I'd forgotten about the climb that comes just after Lochcarron. My 85kg dragged me to the back of the group, and soon the Wheelers guys were out of sight. We passed two sizable groups at Lochcarron and I was engulfed by most of them as well. I didn't panic, just kept the legs spinning.
I hit the bottom of the main climb just after 11. Perfect timing - "cheers Rod - I'll see you soon" I thought as I started the lower slopes, keeping my cadence high. I was stuffing a banana into my mouth when I caught Ed - he was toiling a bit having put in too much effort on the way (and a bit of manflu in his defense), I carried on up the climb. A quick chat as my roommate passed me before I hit the serious bit of the climb. You turn out of the lower slopes and the pass presents itself - Hiya Bealach, Hiya Pal!
A strange atmosphere - silence - everyone seemed to be examining their stems. Oddly, I recognised the road, I remembered the steep ramp before the switchbacks and how the switchbacks were a relief from that gradient and after 47 minutes, I was at the top! If I'm honest, I was glad to see the back of it though. I got my dabber dabbed at the top without stopping and headed down the other side. On the descent, my mind turned to Rod again - where the hell was he?! I started to feel bad, I should have stopped for him, or waited at the top? Too late for that though.
Everyone I had spoken to in the lead up to the event had warned that the real challenge is the 40-odd ramps that come after the Bealach. I knew this was going to be tough and lonely. On the the hand, I probably needed to be alone on this bit, to ride it at my own pace. I passed the Applecross feed stop. I looked in and saw Cat and Ewan, gave them a wave and headed on. One of the guys who'd been in the group from Achnasheen was ahead of me at the bottom of the climb, I passed him expecting him to hold my wheel but he was gone.
If the Bealach was like getting stung by a big wasp, what came next was like being back at that car park with the midges. 30 million little hills, up and down, up and down, up and down and repeat all the way to Torridon. To make matters worse, there was a bit of a headwind. I tried not to go too hard but about half way through and my left leg was starting to cramp and the only way to combat it was to get out of the saddle when the gradient ramped up. Ed had told me at the start that he'd been through the route profile and counted all the little climbs so he knew what to expect. I didn't - on purpose as I didn't want to know. On the day I really wished I knew what was coming.
The road started to swing east at the top of the peninsula out of the wind. I reached into my back pocket for a gel. I found a chocolate cereal bar - this was a surprise and a real boost, I was needing to eat something solid. That, combined with the thought of getting to the end of the lumps and I had a bit of a second wind. I boosted over a few of the lumps, passing a few who had come past me spinning earlier - now they were struggling. A fast group came past - some guys from Portovelo were in there - on a descent as I switched water bottles. I used their wheels for a bit until the next climb. HOW MANY MORE CLIMBS?!?!
I came down into Sheildig with a young lad with an Orkney cycling top. I'd been reeling him in since I was dropped from that group. He wasn't up for chatting much and he dropped back. I went past the feed stop in Sheildig as well - no stopping now - I was intent on wringing the last drop from my legs through the valley from Torridon to the finish back in Kinlochewe.
Through Torridon I joined with a guy doing his first ever sportive. He complained that he'd probably chosen the wrong one but he must have put in a great time, I let him have my wheel for a bit but with 10 miles to go he said he couldn't keep up so I left him as well.
Into the valley - I could see the group that I had been dropped by on the road ahead. I measured how far ahead - 3 minutes - I put the head down and tried to grind out some pace. I counted again - 2 minutes. Was I dragging them in? No, I just couldn't count. I rode the rest of the way on my own, with that group in sight. If only I'd managed to hold their wheel on that one climb. If I'd known it was one of the last climbs, I might have.
Nevermind, 5 miles from the finish. I'd been comparing the route since the 10 miles to go marker to points on my commute. 5 miles and I was at the T junction on in the Inchture-Errol road from Longforgan. 4 miles. I've just come over the Inchture flyover. 2 miles, I'm in Ballindean - Hiya Ben! At this stage, the scenery had changed from open valley had to trees on either side, there was a slight climb to the road just like the road out of Ballindean - was I hallucinating? I passed Jay's house and down to the Westown approach climb. Finally, I was home. Mrs Cranky dabbed my dabber (said the actress to the bishop) and gave me some bean chili.
I sat down at the dining table eating the bean chilli - (why did she give me it in a polystyrene box? Where's the plate?) My roommate from last night was sitting next to me and we started chatting - he'd finished one place above me by about 30 seconds! (But what the hell is he doing at my dining table!?)
I checked to see if Rod had text me. I assumed since he hadn't passed me that he'd stopped but no text suggested he was still out there. I sent him a text to make sure he was ok. I met up with Cat - she seemed to have enjoyed it. Rod text me back to let me know he was fine and that his chain had broke and though he'd done a temporary repair he'd decided to bail out rather than risk it in the steep slopes of the Bealach. Rubbish. I felt bad for him, but a sense of relief that he was fine and in hindsight I made the right choice not going back or waiting.
Time to head back home - for real this time. The next race was getting back in time to take over daddy duties as Mrs Cranky was going out for tea at 6:30pm. I rolled up at 6:29pm. Tekkers!
In summary (this is the bit that you wish I told you to skip to at the start!): happy with my final time of 05:24:17 which placed me 20th. That route is a real challenge but that's why we do it right? Would be lame without the suffering. Some stunning scenery and the weather was perfect as well. Dry. Cool.
All in all a great 90 miles on the bike. Plenty of friendly folk there. Very courteous, patient driving, particularly on the narrow roads. Special mention to the local children who seemed inspired by the event, they'd made colourful banners and shouted encouragement. Humbling after last weeks experience with the mother encouraging her children to "shake the Pringles can at us" as they passed us, I realised that perhaps there is hope after all (maybe you just need to move to the West of Scotland)
Ullapool next up. It seems to have less miles and more elevation gain. I'm ready for it!