It was to be an early start on the Saturday morning so we had agreed to an overnight stay 3 miles from the start at Fort William. We all met around 6pm in good spirits to register for the event and get some food. As we left registration the grey clouds hanging over Fort William confirmed the weather report. Prepare for rain for the next 24 hours. We were prepared, with a change of clothes for each checkpoint, but the prospect of 18 – 24 hour of biking and walking in the rain was not one to look forward to.
Mark had come-good with the new team gear and we sat in the local pub in our Cringe and Hackett t-shirts and jackets, (we thought) we looked the part. As we discussed tactics for the event it was clear things were getting serious. Eating chips was called ‘carb loading’ and there was much discussion on the nutritional value of beer.
Saturday, 5.45am, time to get up for the big day. We had an 8.00am start time so we needed to be at the start and ready to go for around 7.30am. Not to get the front of the pack, but to make sure we got the free bacon roll on offer. More ‘carb loading’. The first section of the 30-mile cycle route was along a canal path. I have ridden canal paths for years without incident, but when you see a safety boat with divers following you have this constant fear of an accident waiting to happen.
My white bike has been the subject of many jokes since I bought it earlier this year. Mark particularly enjoyed the high-pitched squeak the front brake developed over the first ten miles. It at least provided a topic of conversation as we rode along wide cycle tracks. It was clearly going to be a long day. It was a welcome surprise to come across some muddy single-track paths. You at least had to concentrate on where you were placing your wheels. Single-track (as the name suggests) means room for only one bike, which made life difficult as we caught up on slower cyclists from the earlier start. Most of the slower cyclists moved out the way, the rest inadvertently did their best to force you into the trees.
The final stage of the cycle to Fort Augustus was another canal path run. We regrouped and travelled in formation like a team for once. About a mile in we spotted an upturned bike and a cyclist in distress. In the spirit of the event we all skidded to a halt and performed an inner tube replacement that would have put a formula 1 pit-crew to shame. As quickly as we arrived we disappeared into the distance with the lucky recipient realising that they had been saved by Cringe and Hackett. Well, we fixed his bike and he gave us a couple of wine gums for our trouble.
At Fort Augustus it was time to meet our support team, get some food and change for the walking stages. After a little confusion we finally met up with our man Scott (Little Johnny Vegas or LJV to his friends. No time for an explanation here), and we set about changing into our walking gear in the middle of a public car park. In the meantime LJV cracked on with cooking up rolls and sausage for the team. More ‘carb loading’. It all seemed pretty normal to us but a few tourists were a little confused by our behaviour. At this stage the rain had stayed away and nobody dared mention it and tempt fate.
43 miles to walk, full stomachs and feeling good, we set off for Inverness. Mile by mile little twinges grew into aches. As we made our way through some spectacular scenery we realised we had overlooked one thing in our preparation. We were regularly climbing and descending rather than the expected walk along the foot of the Great Glen. We later discovered that there is around 9,000 feet of climb in the walking stage. Trust me, this takes its toll on the knees and ankles.
We clocked up the miles chatting to others we met on the way, passing the time and taking our minds of all the parts of our bodies that were screaming “enough!” As we descended to the final big check point at Drumnadrochit, Grant tried to tempt us and our latest ‘new friends’ into jogging the last mile or so. Despite no takers he decided to run on anyway and catch up with the next group and try his over-enthusiastic Labrador impression on them. We could still hear him as he rounded the corner ahead. A few seconds later we heard him shout again. One of the guys walking with us suggested that it would not be a total disaster if that was the sound of Grant disappearing under the wheels of a large commercial vehicle. It was clear we were all tired and irritable. Thank god it hadn’t rained yet.
With 16 miles to go Drumnadrochit appeared like an oasis in the dessert. We had a hot meal, a change of clothes and a massage. This was the finish point for the ‘Silver Challenge’ and the opportunity to collect a medal and stop there was very tempting. We left around 8.00pm feeling a little better, ready to face the final six or so hours through the night. This was to be the hardest shift. It was now sheer determination that drove us all. Even the Grant was quiet. His over-enthusiasm had been rewarded by huge blisters and as annoying as it was at the time, we were all missing the Labrador.
It was 1.55am on Sunday 4th June when we all arrived together at the finish line in Inverness. The organisers had done a splendid job to ensure that a noisy and supportive crowd greeted every person crossing the line. Looking around the team it was clear that we were finished in more ways than one. We had some breakfast and limped our way back to the cars for the long drive home. We were all too tired to celebrate but we all felt proud of what we had achieved. At least it never rained.
