Outta the Archive: ‘C2C in Under 20 Hours’ from 2001

From the Archives – Singletrack Issue 2 – Summer 2001

Madness? But that’s the challenge Andy and Graham set themselves. Early July was the time chosen to do it as that would maximise daylight riding.

The Invitation

With one month to go they both came to me to tell me their plans.

“We are going to ride the C2C from Whitehaven to Sunderland in under 20 hours and we need you to come along.”

Bloody hell! They want me to ride with them. They think I am really that good and that fit. I was totally flattered.

“Well it’s going to require a fair bit of training on my part. I’m not quite at my peak just yet.” That was an understatement. I had barely clocked up 30 miles in the last month and these guys were inviting me to ride 145 in a day. The alarms were sounding in my head of course and little voices were screaming, “Don’t be so bloody stupid! You will die.” But the warnings were being muffled with pillows of ego and pride.

“Er.. We don’t want you to ride with us. We want you to drive the car.”

The voices of warning turned into mocking laughter. Ego and Pride left the room. Plonker walked in to replace them.

“Oh. Er… OK. That’s cool. I can do that.”

The Route

The off-road C2C starts from Whitehaven on the west coast of Cumbria, before heading east up and over some of the most rugged peaks in the Lakeland fells including the infamous High Street route. There’s a little respite as the route winds across the M6 flood plain towards the Pennines where Cross Fell awaits. Cross Fell is legendary amongst riders and walkers. It is so scary it has its own microclimate that summons a freak wind off the summit that has been known to blow ramblers off their feet. Finally, the route hits an old dismantled railway that drops from the Pennines, down to Sunderland via an impressively scabby industrial route, to the beach in Sunderland. A whole 10 Landranger maps are needed to fully cover it which snakes its way through 3 Counties and 145 miles.

My job was to drive the back-up vehicle, meeting up with the riders at roughly 30-mile intervals to replenish food and drink and have spares on standby. If the worst happened, a radio link between the riders and the vehicle could summon help if needed. Being able to collapse into a car and have someone drive you home on a trip like this is a must too. So what of the vehicle? A tranny van perhaps? Or maybe a large estate. Surely not a teeny Vauxhall Corsa?

With the rendezvous points plotted we had to join them up with roads. By the time Autoroute spat out its answer, the weekend’s drive from door to door tallied over 400 miles. Driving single-handedly through the night from checkpoint to checkpoint was not going to be easy. And so it came to pass that Allan joined the expedition as navigator and spare driver.

The Start

A 2am start was on the cards to minimise the night riding. If all went to plan, it would all be over by sunset in Sunderland. Three days to go and the weather forecast was promising sunshine and warm temperatures – ideal conditions. Unfortunately, back in the real world, Friday night brought constant, driving rain.

Whitehaven was 2.5 hours from home and at 11pm we set off up the M6 with the wipers on full. But by Whitehaven the rain had stopped and a full moon was peeking from behind the clouds. After stuffing an unfeasibly large quantity of Go bars into each Camelbak, Andy and Graham were off along the disused railway track, adopted by Sustrans. Our first rendezvous was Ennerdale Water – 45 minutes by car and 2 hours by bike; a gentle warm-up. Ease those stiff legs from the journey. No problems, right?

Llamas in the Night

Allan and I headed out on country roads that became progressively narrower and winding as we closed in on the shores of the lake. Allan was searching for a CD as I drove down the empty country road. At 30mph I slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop just a few feet away from 5 pairs of glowing, blinking eyes. Allan, having come within an inch of hitting the windscreen, stared open mouthed. So did I. After a pause Allan broke the silence.

“What the f… are they?”

“Llamas,” I replied, equally stunned.

Five llamas stood in the middle of the road, staring at us with bemused expressions. By the time we’d plugged in the flash they had cleared off. It really happened though. Honest it did. Just ask Allan.

Shock over, we continued the last mile down the road and parked by the lake to watch the dawn break and wait for the word to come over the radio that our riders were approaching. We lay on the bonnet, Wayne’s World style, watching for their lights. As dawn rose over the horizon so did the midges. We decided to wait in the car.

Graham’s Knee Goes

A few minutes later a pair of distant lights could be seen snaking their way towards us along the road. It was time to get all supportive. Allan grabbed the fresh Camelbak bladders, as I got ready with the Go bars. Only a few hundred yards away we could hear their relaxed conversation and rumble of knobblies on tarmac. Suddenly the calm was broken by a scream followed by the metallic, cringing sound of metal on tarmac. Dropping the supplies we ran down the twilit road towards the silence.

Graham was holding Andy’s bike whilst he sat with his head between his legs. The road followed the edge of the forest and apparently, ‘something’ had hurtled out of the forest and collided solidly enough with Andy to knock him clear off his bike before disappearing back into the forest. Thankfully the only damage was a bruised side and loss of some paint and within five minutes they were refuelled and had disappeared down the lakeside track. The nature of Andy’s assailant remains a mystery. Llama’s revenge for the earlier near miss? We will never know.

Our next rendezvous was a mere 30 miles for Andy and Graham but 60 for us. There was no immediate rush to get there though. The next off-road section took the lads over the Langdales via Rosset Gill. On the map it says bridleway but in reality it’s a 4 mile carry up a mountain followed by an almost unrideable descent.

Falling Asleep at the Wheel

Our drive took us over Wrynose Pass. The adrenalin of the opening stage and the Llama encounters was wearing off and as the sun rose, Allan slept. Unfortunately, so did I. Half way up the pass I fell asleep at the wheel. With a gravel gutter to the left and a fatal drop to the right, the Gods of chance were smiling and the sound of tyres on gravel woke me up. The shock was enough to make me pull over and get out for 15 minutes to calm down. Allan slept on unaware of his close encounter. Time to break out the Pro Plus.

We arrived at the second rendezvous a good hour before the lads were due. Setting the alarm clock we both settled in for a power nap. 45 minutes later we were up and preparing drinks and energy bars. The 2-way radio sat on the bonnet waiting to crackle a warning of their impending arrival. The arrival time came and went. Half an hour passed. Checking the batteries I tried contact. Nothing. That meant they were more than the 3-mile range of the radios away.

A further 30 minutes and we were seriously worried but then, to great relief, the radio crackled with Andy’s voice. “‘Ello? Graham’s knee’s gone. We’re walking down. We’re about 3 miles away.”

We pulled out the first aid kit and prepared for the worst. Another hour later and the pair of them came in to view along the rocky track from the cloud-topped mountains. The final mile of track was pretty flat and Graham was actually riding as they entered the car park. Hopes rose that perhaps his injury was not that serious. One look at the expression on his face told otherwise.

Andy Goes Solo

It was game over for Graham and Andy was now two and a half hours down. As Graham lay down in the back seat, Allan loaded up Andy and he was off. The fact he had lost so much time served to strengthen his resolve to finish. By Ambleside the rain hit big time. We sat in the pay-and-display car park with the deafening drumming of rain on the roof punctuated every few seconds by Graham’s snores from the back seat. Right on time Andy appeared through the rain, soaked but determined.

The challenge had changed. No longer was it about beating 20 hours—it was about finishing. Andy pushed on through the Pennines, over Cross Fell in deteriorating weather, and down the final stretch to Sunderland. The support crew kept pace, meeting him at checkpoints, keeping him fueled and motivated.

When Andy finally rolled onto the beach at Sunderland, exhausted but triumphant, the sun was setting. He hadn’t beaten 20 hours, but he’d finished one of the toughest challenges in UK mountain biking, solo, after his partner had to drop out. That takes guts, determination, and a bloody-minded refusal to quit.

Epilogue

The C2C in under 20 hours is a brutal challenge. It demands fitness, planning, support, and a fair bit of luck. Andy and Graham’s attempt showed that even the best-laid plans can go awry, but it also demonstrated the spirit of adventure and determination that defines mountain biking. Would they try again? Probably. Would I volunteer to drive? Absolutely. Just as long as we avoid the llamas.

The off-road C2C remains one of the UK’s classic mountain bike challenges. 145 miles, 3 counties, and countless memories.