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inspired by the Lost thread.
what was your worst ride ever ?
many years ago myself and 2 riding pals decide on a winter ride around Cross fell and High Cup Nick.
plans were to set of nice and early from mine for a quiet drive up, giving enough daylight to complete the loop.
the mate who was driving is a proper slack arse, and didnt turn up at mine until gone 9am.
we arrived at Dufton after 11am. no worries, we can do it we thought.
set off clockwise, nice lanes up to Kirkland then the slog up Cross Fell began.
bit of a slog is the climb to say the least.
after age we arrive at Gregs hut. now a nice long descent to Garrigill for the pub for a cuppa and some food.
2 punctures on the descent. got to the village. pub was a oasis. cuppa and a cornish pasty was eaten quickly.
out of pub into bouncing rain and a growing wind.
set of up the valley to Tynehead and bang..... chain snapped. bugger, mended that and set off again. deciding to take the road up to Cowgreen as weather was getting worse.
turn onto the track at Yads moss and it was blowing a gale, but wind was coming from every direction and not just one way.
got to the shelter half way down the track and decided to sit and wait for wind to drop. it dint, so we had wasted another 30 minutes. eventually we reached Cauldron snout...... and boy was it inpressive. never seen it so full/noisy/scary.
the weather blowing a hooley making it more impressive.
i seem to remember it was now about 5pm and getting dark.
we set of up the pennine way towards Mize beck. after 100 yards i was feeling very weak and a bit ill.
we carried on slowly, me having to push on soft wet ground of anything steep uphill.
took a age to get to the bridge over maize beck. the beck was in full winter torrent.... very scary and loud. and i felt like death. i had only eaten a cornish pasty all day. and drunk a cuppa and some warm camelbac water.
i have done High Cup in both directions a couple of times. always very nice if a little tough.
neve done it in the dark feeling like death warmed up. seem to remember i walked a hell of a lot of it.
we finally got down at around 7.45 in pitch black. i could hardly lift my head up or hold my bars.
once in the carpark my pals asked me what i had eaten or indeed brought to eat. i couldnt remember.
Dougie went through my camelbac and found a ginsters pasty and a family bag of jelly babies.
i had carried them round the whole route and forgot about them in my terrible state.
by far my worst day out on a bike ever.
deleted
I mean Deleted.
The one that jumps to mind is when I did this to my elbow and it took 3 big men to pull it back into position. That was just the start of a long and miserable journey back to health.
(not my picture, stolen from Google images)
Having dragged a bike up Cross Fell a few weeks ago, I'm glad that I have done. I'm even gladder that I don't have to do it again. That climb is brutal.
I've had plenty of nasty days on the MTB where the weather, mechanical issues or over ambition make you question why you even do it, but the ride that stands out as the worst ever is one that was supposed to be one of the most chilled...
A couple of years ago I went out with my brother in law for a cycle along the River Don here in Aberdeen. Me on the gravel bike and him on his hybrid. Was a lovely afternoon and we made it a good few miles out of the city before we decided to head back for food. At one point on the the route there's a short but steepish dirt verge that takes you back onto the riverside path from the main road. I've done it countless times so just went straight down but as I got to the bottom and turn to check where BIL is I heard the locking of a disc brake and see him taking a dive over the bars followed by the most God-awful shriek I've ever heard as he hit the ground. Within seconds of him getting up he went white as a sheet and discovered he could barely move his arm. Realising there way no way he could ride home he phoned his Dad to come pick him up, who wasn't the least bit sympathetic at a grown man needing to be recused. I seem to remember him saying "what are you doing mucking around on bikes?" or something to that affect. When he arrived we then discovered that his car (some silly little Vauxhall thing) wasn't big enough for the bike + injured passenger so we had to call an ambulance to take him to the hospital instead. I cycled the rest of the way home myself and got a text later in the evening to say he'd badly broken his collar bone. He hasn't been allowed to go out for a ride with me ever since.
Oh God, where to even begin?!
I've been helicoptered off hillsides TWICE (once in Switzerland, once in the UK).
Rides where the weather has turned half way and I've slogged home through wind / rain / hail.
A truly hateful 10-mile TT, "suggested" by a guy in my cycle club. All I remember was I had to get up at 5am for a lift out to an A-road in the Kent countryside, I went off course, I fell off, I got soaking wet, the borrowed clip-on TT bars were falling to bits and when I finally found my way back to the course and staggered across the line, the timekeeper cheerily said "47 minutes!" and I nearly threw the bike at him.
There are probably more. I tend to suppress those sort of memories!
Every MBR ride I have ever done, their Howgill ride is forever etched in to my memory and not in a good way
Around ten years ago when we still lived in North Yorkshire I set out for a winter ride (snowing, cold, icy). Rode 5 miles from Skipton to Gargrave and then got five hawthorn thorns in my rear tyre. Had just got those tyres and, desperate to get out for a ride, I hadn't set them up tubeless.
It was hoofing it down with snow and I spend one futile hour trying to patch things up. Used a full packet of those instant Park Tool patches but there was so much snow they wouldn't stick. Popped in my spare inner tube but both my C02 carts failed. Tried to pump up with a mini pump but then the replacement tube failed because I'd missed one thorn still stuck in the tyre.
Cold, wet and muddy five mile walk back along the Leeds-Liverpool canal path in full carbon-soled XC shoes. 🙄
Never had a bad ride, just ones with a few dark moments or some "interesting" stories for the pub!
I have, however, had lots of terrible days not riding and the only way to get through them is the thought of a ride however rubbish it might be. Call me the eternal optimist but its just the angle you view it from.
Even the broken ribs on day two of the planned five days of riding was an absolutely brilliant ride on amazing trails right up to the point it really hurt. Trying not to laugh in the bar that evening was one of the funniest and most painful things I've ever experienced....
After a few rides on my first hardtail Ebike, I decided to take it for a solo 35 miler on a scorching summer's day. I neglected to fully charge the battery, but thought, hey, its only 35 miles.. and it's a "lightweight" ebike, so if worst comes to the worst... well, worst came to the very worst after about 25miles and man, it was just so hot. So firstly the battery runs out, so I'm pedalling the thing on the trails and didn't quite realise how crap that would be without rear suspension... with just a dead weight of an extremely rigid bike under me! It was absolutely exhausting. Every root, rock and lump in the trail transferred to my tired old body. So, of course, shortly after the battery ran out, my water ran out. And shortly after that a horsefly got in my helmet and yep bit me right on the top of the head. OW! so there's no real shortcut back to the car, just a road section - a long long straightish road section. I'm so shattered and thirsty and worried about heart giving out on me (the reason for getting an ebike!) .. I pedal, the road rises, I have to get off and push. I can't remember what it was now, but a niggling injury meant pedalling was so much more painful than walking. I keep looking out for someone to "lend" me some water. A roadie! A roadie comes up the road from behind me.. excuse me mate, sorry, can I have a swig.. he looks round, shrugs and rides on. Cheers. About 5 mins later a couple on sit-up-and-begs catch me and the lovely fella gives me his bottle and says finish it. Not sure if I would've made it back to the car otherwise!
I've had rides where I've crashed and broken something and had to give up, but none of those were worse than that day!
I don't remember the afternoon of my worst ride.
I remember the morning- amazing trails and me riding well at whistler.
I don't remember the crash
I don't remember the spinal board on the back of a buggy to to medical center
I don't remember the x-ray, MRI some other scan or any medical personnel.
I do remember the doctor saying "you don't remember me now do you" but I've no idea what he looked like.
I do remember the £3000 bill, trying an failing to pay it on my credit card.
I remember looking at my super fancy carbon full face helmet that looked fine and being very very sad about putting it in the bin. No obvious marks, no obvious damage to the interior but clearly time for a new one.
I think my shock broke and bucked me off, but I'm just guessing.
I don't really remember much of the 2 h bus ride or 7h flight home the next two days.
Picture the scene. Early 2010s. Early May. North Uist. A (very) strong South Westerly. Lashing rain. Pelting hail. Bikepacking bags strapped to road bikes with 23c tyres and caliber brakes. 60-odd miles to cover to the ferry directly into the wind. Took us about 4.5 hours to do 30 miles, and that only gets you to another arse-end-of-nowhere, because that's all there is in the Outer Hebrides. Ran out of food. There aren't any shops, and if you do find one, it'll be shut. So cold, completely soaked, shivering uncontrollably with every layer I posses on. Sheltering in a bus stop, wondering if it might be easier to just expire there and then.
Miraculously, there's the number for a taxi driver. I call, and praise be, someone answers. Explain we have two bikes and don't know where we are. 30 minutes later a gentlemen arrives in car with a mahoosive covered trailer. Kindly transports us to Lochboisdale whilst acting as a tour guide for the various bits of flat, grey, wind-swept and water-logged hell-scapes we're passing through. Having missed the ferry by this point, he drops us at a B&B he's called on our behalf. That taxi ride was the best part of our whole 4-day trip.
I think it's probably the closest I've come to serious danger on a bike ride. Could always have knocked on a random door, and that was becoming a distinct possibility. I've never been so cold. When we got to the B&B, the kind owner took one look at us and practically pushed us into a shower to get warm, and had cups of tea waiting when we came out.
This summer we went back to finish the Heb Way. Weather wasn't much better but we were better prepared and got the whole thing done. Safe to say, I'm never going back. Like, ever.
Probs this one. 
(I'm the one lying down and taking it easy)
I have had a few with bad weather or seemingly endless dragging my bike thru swamps but the one that will always stick with me was a big off road pass in NZ.
I knew it was a big climb and maybe some pushing, However since my informant had been over that pass the track had deteriorated a lot. I was riding a hybrid with camping kit, or should I say taking it for a walk over a mountain! The main climb took me 4 or 5 hours much of it push the bike forward a metre, take two steps, push the bike another metre. Brutal stuff. Reached the top looking forward to a big long descent. It was so steep and rocky I could not let the bike run on at all - the top part of the descent was done at walking pace carefully picking my way down. Well at least it was all downhill from here I thought. NO! came round a corner to see another significant climb ahead. I very nearly burst into tears. 9 hours for 40 km and while I am not sure how much climbing I think over 2000m. Utterly brutal. Scenery was nice!
This for me. Last day of a fantastic tour.
When he went over the edge I thought he was a goner.
I had to get 2 bikes and 2 backpacks back down the mountain to Le Chable
I genuinely can't remember a 'worst ride'. I think the least pleasant was some horrid Whitton about eight or nine years back maybe, when a load of wind and rain arrived early and the majority of people, including me, were woefully under-clothed. The final feed station before the Hardknott after Cold Fell was like a WW1 field hospital with soaking wet, semi-hypothermic people in space blankets shivering desperately in corners of a village hall. I figured if I stopped for longer than a few minutes, I'd end up the same so stuffed some vaguely recognisable food down my face, an egg mayo sarnie I think, and, soaking wet and absolutely freezing, carried on, mostly because there's no quick way back to the start without cadging a lift and at that point I just wanted to get it over with and go home.
About halfway to the bottom of the pass, just as I was starting to warm up, I flatted my rear tyre. My hands were so cold that it must have taken me around 30 minutes to simply change the tube and pump it up, by which time I was absolutely frozen and shaking. I have no idea how I made it over the Hardknott and back round to the finish, but I clearly did. I can remember sitting shivering in our T5 with the heater on full blast for about an hour afterwards before starting to feel even mildly alive.
It was really bloody miserable. People were congratulating folk just for managing to get round alive. Other grim rides I look back on with some vague feeling of nostalgia, but not that.
The time they decided to run a round of the Scottish Enduro Series in February at Dunkeld.
The conditions were utterly horrendous. 90% of people having an utter nightmare. Injuries galore. Mass complaints. Zero fun
Picture the scene. Early 2010s. Early May. North Uist. A (very) strong South Westerly. Lashing rain. Pelting hail. Bikepacking bags strapped to road bikes with 23c tyres and caliber brakes. 60-odd miles to cover to the ferry directly into the wind. Took us about 4.5 hours to do 30 miles, and that only gets you to another arse-end-of-nowhere, because that's all there is in the Outer Hebrides. Ran out of food. There aren't any shops, and if you do find one, it'll be shut. So cold, completely soaked, shivering uncontrollably with every layer I posses on. Sheltering in a bus stop, wondering if it might be easier to just expire there and then.
Miraculously, there's the number for a taxi driver. I call, and praise be, someone answers. Explain we have two bikes and don't know where we are. 30 minutes later a gentlemen arrives in car with a mahoosive covered trailer. Kindly transports us to Lochboisdale whilst acting as a tour guide for the various bits of flat, grey, wind-swept and water-logged hell-scapes we're passing through. Having missed the ferry by this point, he drops us at a B&B he's called on our behalf. That taxi ride was the best part of our whole 4-day trip.
I think it's probably the closest I've come to serious danger on a bike ride. Could always have knocked on a random door, and that was becoming a distinct possibility. I've never been so cold. When we got to the B&B, the kind owner took one look at us and practically pushed us into a shower to get warm, and had cups of tea waiting when we came out.
This summer we went back to finish the Heb Way. Weather wasn't much better but we were better prepared and got the whole thing done. Safe to say, I'm never going back. Like, ever.
Had a similarly horrendous day on the Hebridean Way. Was the 2nd day of 3. Started off not too bad. Stopped for lunch in Tarbert. Wee pint of Guinness. Fish and chips. All was good. Left after lunch and did the honking big climb out of Tarbert heading north. That's when the weather came in . I got absolutely battered by torrential rain and wind all the way up the climb. Eventually got to the top of the climb and could see the huge descent ahead of me which was a relief. Rounded the corner to begin the descent and got stopped dead by an absolute wall of wind. Then the hailstones came. I had to hide in a ditch at the side of the road behind the only rock I could find, because the landscape is utterly barren with zero shelter in trees etc. I rapidly started to lose body heat and realised I had to keep moving. I headed down the descent and had to pedal in the granny gear all the way down just to keep momentum. Eventually limped into a small settlement called Ballalan where I quickly realised there was no way I could camp. Phoned a hotel I saw a sign for but they were full up. I slowly pushed my bike through the street and by some miracle I found a B&B with a "Vacancies" sign. I chapped the door, a wee wifey answered and I nearly cried when she confirmed she had a room. Not that should would have seen my tears in the rain rolling down my face. Dumped my bike in the garage and went inside the house, where she cheerily told me Harris was the wettest place in the UK that day. I feigned laughter and went to my room to lie down and cry myself to sleep. Oh and this was mid June by the way.
she cheerily told me Harris was the wettest place in the UK that day. I feigned laughter and went to my room to lie down and cry myself to sleep. Oh and this was mid June by the way.
We've had a couple of really shit weather days on events I've worked on - the kind of thing that no-one ever prepares for cos no-one in their right mind would go riding in weather like that that so no-one actually knows how to ride in torrential rain or strong winds.
Various cases of hypothermia, multiple instances of the broom wagon being full to the brim and having to do shuttle runs to get cold soaked cyclists to the next feed station, on one occasion a campsite that was basically a swamp from the amount of rain that day.
Amazingly similar story to the the two Heb way ones above, but luckily not us that were the main subject of it. Cycling the route last "summer" we benefitted from a massive tailwind on day 2, where we were aiming to go from Barra, via the early ferry, all the way up to Berneray to get the afternoon ferry up to Harris.
Cycling from Eriskay we turned north and immediately ran out of gears, in a good way - it was raining a bit, but the wind was so strong it was blowing us along nicely. Towards the north of South Uist we got overtaken by a Ford pickup, which by the time we rounded the corner up ahead 5 mins later was on it's roof in the ditch (on a massive long straight bit of road), with the flatbed sticking out over the road. Luckily the driver was ok, and out of the vehicle talking to the first driver that arrived.
Just past the car we got flagged down by another driver who asked if we had a puncture repair kit. We had some spare tubes, and he said "great" and out from behind the car comes a lady on an old hybrid bike with a completely flat rear tyre. She had been at a music festival on Benbecula and was heading for their campsite near Eriskay (still about 35km away) into a 25mph headwind and driving rain. We looked around for some shelter and spotted a bus shelter, so we headed there, noting that her rear wheel was not QR, but a 15mm nut. As I was thinking about how on earth we were going to help her my friend says he has a spanner with him (he has an Alfine hub) so we manage to get the tyre off, tube fitted, and pumped up as best we could before leaving her (and her mum, who turned up pushing her bike down the road) to fend for themselves. Still wonder if they made it to their campsite, but don't think I've ever seen two people look as wet and miserable in a long time.
We got a slight feeling about how bad it was, as by the time we got to the ferry we had to wait at the terminal for 1 hour, and we could hardly control our shivering when we pushed our bikes onto the ferry - and that was the end of July.
I think it was boxing day and I went solo mountain biking and it was utterly freezing with snow everywhere. Also in totally inappropriate clothing as I was relatively young and inexperienced (i.e. stupid). I was already goosed but I only knew one way home (no gps back then) so was 100% committed whether I liked it or not and I got trapped in an iced-over gully. After hiking myself and the bike up the really steep sides I got stuck in an electric fence trying to climb over it with my bike so I could short-cut across a field.
I honestly would have just caught a train home after that but no trains cause it was boxing day. Think I then ended up riding my £400 hardtail for about 2hrs on the road just to get home before dark.
For me it was a crash.... I wrote about it on here and got great support but.... on my own, crashed, couldn't walk and could barely standup, 3 great rescuers, laid on the ground with rescuers coats over me, shivering, 2 hour wait for ambulance. Wife called and arrived whilst waiting.... then the ride in the ambulance and the realisation that at 74 years of age I could just have destroyed the active old age that both my wife and I enjoyed. It really hit me that enjoying my adventures may have screwed that up totally.
Diagnosis... fractured pelvis, 3 months off the bike and a full recovery.... I was very lucky. But that was NOT a good day.
But I'm still riding 4 years later.
Logic would dictate that it was the ride where I went OTB on a really being piece of trail and tore my AC ligament in my shoulder. Interesting walk to the pub car park whilst wheeling the bike a d feeling various bones grinding together. Fortunately got picked up by Mrs jeffl, although no time for a pint. This was in March so I was off the bike for the first half of summer.
But the most memorable bad ride was years ago before tubeless. Was cycling in winter, driving wind and snow. Got a puncture on the side of a hill with no shelter. Managed to fix the puncture but hands were numb as hell. Rode another mulenor so and had another puncture, probably the same cause but it was getting dark and weather was deteriorating. So fixed it again, and just took the most direct route off the hill and home. Still had a slow puncture so kept having to stop to pump it up. Probably the least fun I had on a bike ever.
I've had days out on the bike that we're bad at the time but now they make good stories!
I love the bad bits as a part of what makes cycling fun, particularly where you have to get yourself out of a situation with resourcefulness and have a story to tell afterwards
double post
Feb 1st 2016. Club ride. Eight went out,. one never went home. Chest compressions almost as deep as the pothole. Can still see it like it was yesterday.
Anyway, my worst one was probably back in 2021 when I was having some heart arrythmia issues. I'd been told it was benign by the docs but was waiting for some more tests. It had been weighing very heavy on my mind.
Went out on a 1hr gravel morning loop then about 3/4 of the way around I started feeling really weird, got progressively harder to turn the pedals, legs getting weak feeling feint and dizzy. Kind of like a bonk but without feeling drained if fuel. I was absolutely convinced this was due to my heart worries and that I was hving some kind of serious heart related medical episode.
Managed to crawl back to the house and my wife called an ambulance. Dragged off to A&E. Loads of tests. Started to feel better. Nothing wrong with me!
I've still absolutely no idea what was wrong but it was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life.
But hey..cool story bro 😂
It involved a Sea King helicopter, a few weeks in a coma, a scar for life and returning a year later to film for BBC999....Pre StW hack there was a full article.
May bank holiday Sunday, with Stef, Alex, Hughy having a plod around Eastridge, all the usual banter and excuses.
While we were chatting bollocks Stef collapsed, CPR chest compressions paramedics air ambulance f##ktards taking photos then a drive with the police to tell Stef’s mum and dad.
Every single ride since has been bloody excellent.
Probably two very different rides in a similar location.
First one I stupidly thought it would be a good idea to do a forest loop I'd done on a motorbike a few years previous. It's remote, and the gradients are quite extreme.
I had a carbon hardtail. Two friends came on ebikes. The start was epic, flying down insane fire trails. Then came the first climb... it was far too steep for me, but also the ebikes including the guy that normally rides single speed.
What followed was endless hike a bike as each of the million hills ahead of us turned out to be too steep to carry the bikes, too steep for one of the guys to push his bike. I felt very much responsible so was basically doubling back to help him. If it had been in any way wet I think we'd still be there. We had to cut the loop short, but it remains the slowest average speed of any ride i've ever done.
Second one was a solo adventure. I'd mapped a route starting out in lowland forestry, leading to a 400m road climb onto the range and out via some sketchy rainforest firebreaks (again, i'd ridden them on a moto before - you'd think i'd learn).
To reduce weight(!) i'd opted for one water bottle and an apple as sustenance even though there's no settlements on the route. Unfortunately, I didn't have space for the whole apple so ate half of it before setting off.
Once I did set off I discovered that there were fences closing off quite a lot of the early route, so I was having to improvise...not always the best idea in remote forestry.
Eventually I got through that and made my way up onto the range, where there's a fast dirt road along the ridge. As I was doing about 50kmph along there a rock bent my mech. At this point I should have made a sensible decision to continue down the hill and back on the road to the car. Instead, seeking adventure and keen not to waste a day off work I pigheadedly stuck to my plan... with very few gears and little memory of the track ahead. What came next was a succession of nasty hot and humid unrideable gullies along 'Dog Break' before eventually making it out of the jungle several hours behind my plan and without mobile coverage to let my wife know.
What was actually the worst part was the last 10km along the road back to the car. Ostensibly flat I'd bonked so hard I was worried I'd grind to a halt, fail to unclip and collapse at the side of the road. Unsurprisingly I received zero sympathy from Mrs Reeksy when I eventually got home.
I did learn my lesson though and tend to pack plenty of fluid and food now.
Not technically my worst, but there was the ride I took my newlywed wife on that I had remembered as 80 km (Corrieyairick / Great Glen / Glen Roy loop).
It wasn't 80 km.
It was 80 miles.
I once rode all the way around Llandegla and when we got back to the cafe they had totally run out of cake.
Not technically my worst, but there was the ride I took my newlywed wife on that I had remembered as 80 km (Corrieyairick / Great Glen / Glen Roy loop).
It wasn't 80 km.
It was 80 miles.
Ha ha, that's a hell of a loop. Having done that as part of a 50mile bikepacking day, and finding that brutal, I can't imagine what it was like with an extra 30 miles tacked on?
Afan in the pouring rain, having told my mate that I was with what a great trail center it was.
He's never forgiven me to this day.
Tomorrow will be the 10th anniversary of when I broke my neck while out for a simple Sunday morning bimble. That was a pretty bad one, and spending the next 3 months in a Halo brace wasn't a lot of fun.
As shit as the experience was at the time, it wasn't all bad;
- I had 3-4 months off work on full pay!
- My daughter was still at primary school and it meant I was able to spend more time with her, and do simple things I used to miss out on (walk her to school and pick her up)
- Everything healed about as well as it could have done
- The overall experience made me be a bit more "seize the day" which I definitely needed
It started as a regular commute from work one wet evening.
I was passing some farm fields, puddles everywhere, when there was this extra large one approaching.
With traffic passing all the time, I decided I was already wet so I'd just plough through it.
It wasn't just an ordinary puddle though, it was run-off from the fields, which had just been doused in slurry a couple of days earlier. It was milliseconds before the first wave hit my face, that I realised what it was, and obviously too late to do anything.
It was the longest 5 miles home, stinking of, and tasting horse sh1t. And days before I was convinced the smell had gone.
Never gone through another puddle since
Not so much worse ride - more most embarrassing ride...
Back in the 90s I thought I'd take up MTB racing - I was fit anyway and thought how hard could it be.
I trained for months and thought I was an MTB god - no riding mates could touch me.
I decided to enter Sport class rather than Novice (as novice was beneath me).
Lined up on the start line at Sherwood Pines - starting gun went off and boom, I got shot straight out of the back of the pack and within 100m the pack had disappeared into the forest and I never saw them again!! 🤣
...entered Novice the next time - and gradually learnt how to ride a race rather than just ride fast!
On the back of embarrassing races, I'll add my first proper road race/crit thing. I was about 15, only ever done 10 and 25 TTs, and went to somewhere around Sunderland for an age group race of 6 or 7 laps around a circuit that must have been 3k or so. Was already out-psyched by kids with awesome bikes, spare wheels and warming up on turbos and rollers before we even started.
I was out the back within half a lap, continued round the whole race on my own. Finished without being lapped but that really showed me I had no chance making it as a racer.
Pretty sure Ian Stannard won the race. The 3 hour drive home was a bit somber, and needless to say I never raced anything like that again.
that at 74 years of age I could just have destroyed the active old age that both my wife and I enjoyed. It really hit me that enjoying my adventures may have screwed that up totally.
....But I'm still riding 4 years later.
My new role model!
Best and worst in a way. Early 2000's, solo day at Coed y Brenin. Did it all happily and without incident on my Pace 303. Riding up to the visitor centre, wife and kids on the balcony, I turned around to look at something, rode into a gully, fell off and cut my face all up in full view of everyone.
I was out the back within half a lap, continued round the whole race on my own. Finished without being lapped but that really showed me I had no chance making it as a racer.Wouldn't have worried about that so much, i spent my entire first season of RRs getting shelled out of the back of junior events (i'd done similar to you before then). Then when i turned senior, i spent a couple of years getting shelled out of senior events (though i did start as a 2nd cat based on junior results). Then when i started on the elite/pro events i spent over a decade getting shelled out of the back of those events too... (ok, i got enough results to keep getting fairly crappy contracts. But not much more than that!)
And my worst ride... so many to choose from. The snow "ride" on the other thread is up there though. Missing the sag wagon after getting shelled and having to ride 120k back to the hotel in the pissing rain in my race kit plus a gilet. While the course was being dismantled. Some of the junctions towards the end our little gang of freezing reprobates had to guess which way to turn as there was *nothing* left to show. Pretty sure a couple of the guys quit on the spot when they hit the hotels.
Not technically my worst, but there was the ride I took my newlywed wife on that I had remembered as 80 km (Corrieyairick / Great Glen / Glen Roy loop).
It wasn't 80 km.
It was 80 miles.
A mate talked me into a local gravel ride loop a while ago describing it as "50 miles with a cafe stop". What he actually meant was "50 miles to the cafe. And then about the same again back."
I was very unimpressed.
I once rode all the way around Llandegla and when we got back to the cafe they had totally run out of cake.
You've just reminded me. A few days away that culminated at Llandegla. One of the group was a complete arse all weekend, bigoted, irritating, slowing us down on and off the bike, wanting to be centre of attention constantly. It's difficult to describe in a few short words how appalling he was. On the final day, a ride a Llandegla that was meant to start at about 10am got delayed, and delayed, and delayed because of this idiot but we eventually got going. We finally walked into the cafe just after they'd stopped serving food, which meant we were all ready to murder him for slowing us down so much. When one of the cafe staff wandered around with a free plate of food on offer that had been paid for and not claimed, and he grabbed it, we actually did murder him and bury him in the car park. 🤣
Every MBR ride I have ever done, their Howgill ride is forever etched in to my memory and not in a good way
If its the "classic" Howgills ride then I think I got away with it and rode it on a nice day but remember at the end thinking "is that it?" and wondering what it'd be like in anything other than good weather...
My own personal worst ride. I've got to say, I don't think I've ever had a total nightmare but one that sticks in my memory was the first (?) Hit The North. Think it was mid summer and we set off from Yorkshire in the sunshine. Was pouring with rain in North Manc which was lovely but got setup at the side of the track - tent up and me and my mates other halves sat under a brolly and with a massive blanket wrapped around them to keep warm. Think I managed one lap and my mate managed 2 before we sacked it off. Went through a set of brake pads in 1 lap and came back in covered head to toe in mud that smelt like sewerage. Shame because I remember the route itself being pretty cool...
Think it was mid summer and we set off from Yorkshire in the sunshine. Was pouring with rain in North Manc which was lovely but got setup at the side of the track - tent up and me and my mates other halves sat under a brolly and with a massive blanket wrapped around them to keep warm.
I remember a Mountain Mayhem like that. The one time I attempted it solo. Super well prepared, 2 bikes, lots of food, all good with a camping pitch nearby.
Weather on Saturday was great, course was dry and dusty. Early evening it started raining and within minutes the infamous Malvern Mud was everywhere. I sacked it off and went to bed thinking I'd get an hour's rest then go out refreshed for the night laps.
It rained all night and in the morning I poked my head out the tent to see a near-deserted course and a few broken souls pushing mud-laden bikes around looking like they'd done 5 rounds with a swamp monster. Most people had binned off the idea of racing, quite a few people had simply left.
Sunday was actually a lovely day and the course dried up quite quickly so I did a couple of token laps right at the end but it was really just an attempt to salvage something from a washout weekend.
I did one of the later ones, heavy rain but was only a few hours, I think they may have been longer back int day. Felt ill straight after it. Not ill as in that was really hard, more like how has a mtb race given me food poisoning?My own personal worst ride. I've got to say, I don't think I've ever had a total nightmare but one that sticks in my memory was the first (?) Hit The North. Think it was mid summer and we set off from Yorkshire in the sunshine. Was pouring with rain in North Manc which was lovely but got setup at the side of the track - tent up and me and my mates other halves sat under a brolly and with a massive blanket wrapped around them to keep warm. Think I managed one lap and my mate managed 2 before we sacked it off. Went through a set of brake pads in 1 lap and came back in covered head to toe in mud that smelt like sewerage. Shame because I remember the route itself being pretty cool...
Was a good event minus the plague mud.
My commute into work three days after 40th just before Xmas 2013, it's a storm weather warning day, but looks calm at 0545 so decide to cycle in as normal. Started to rain as I headed down the hill, I'm doing ~20mph around the sweeping bend before Northam bridge heading towards city centre, suddenly realise the refuge lorry ahead of me is stationary. Both brake levers on my Tricross Singlecross aren't significantly reducing my speed, road too busy to switch lanes, no dropped kerb I can see. ~30mins later, I wake up in back of ambulance, having fractured my upper jaw; lost teeth and chipped many others; right wrist feeling wonky and two metacarpals on right hand fractured. Right hand completely seized up after op, ended up at Wessex Rehab Centre at Odstock Rd Hospital (Salisbury) Mon-Fri and then going home for weekend for five weeks.
A few years later, after slowy getting confidence back again to cycle regularly for work, I then discovered the South Downs and began cycling for fitness.
Think it was mid summer and we set off from Yorkshire in the sunshine. Was pouring with rain in North Manc which was lovely but got setup at the side of the track - tent up and me and my mates other halves sat under a brolly and with a massive blanket wrapped around them to keep warm.
I remember a Mountain Mayhem like that. The one time I attempted it solo. Super well prepared, 2 bikes, lots of food, all good with a camping pitch nearby.
Weather on Saturday was great, course was dry and dusty. Early evening it started raining and within minutes the infamous Malvern Mud was everywhere. I sacked it off and went to bed thinking I'd get an hour's rest then go out refreshed for the night laps.
It rained all night and in the morning I poked my head out the tent to see a near-deserted course and a few broken souls pushing mud-laden bikes around looking like they'd done 5 rounds with a swamp monster. Most people had binned off the idea of racing, quite a few people had simply left.
Sunday was actually a lovely day and the course dried up quite quickly so I did a couple of token laps right at the end but it was really just an attempt to salvage something from a washout weekend.
Bonty 24/12 in the mid/late 00s was like that. Brilliant zipping around in the dark on a warm summer evening. Went to bed for a couple of hours and woke up to smashing rain on the tent so went back to sleep. Roke up in the morning to people trudging past the tent covered head to toe in thick, sticky mud and bikes caked up do bad the wheels wouldn't turn. Sacked it off and went home.
Racked my brain and I can't really think of a really bad day. Never had an injury crash. I've had quite a few physically tough days touring but that's part of the game. If it was always easy everyone would do it.
Kudos to the people on this thread and elsewhere who have horrendous crashes and come back.
Thinking about it some of my toughest days have been on hostel based tours as you often have a fixed point to get to which if you get something like a bad headwind can turn into long hard days. Touring with a tent in decent weather you just rest when you get tired and camp when you run out of daylight.
A day in California in 2013 springs to mind. I spent 2 hours pushing my bike uphill into a gale on the shoulder of the I8 freeway. Ran out of daylight near the Mexican border . So I bivvied just off the road having waited until there were no border patrol vehicles in sight. The bike is lying down so it is less visible from the road. The border fence is on the ridge in the background.