[Closed] What's your Worst Ride Ever?

Actual worst experience was 10 Under The Ben a few years ago. I was doing it solo. I did the first lap and felt like death. I went back to my tent and passed out for a good few hours. Woke up feeling even worse. I never bothered to go back out for another lap so I just went back to sleep. Got up in the morning, packed my stuff up and drove back to Glasgow, pausing occasionally to crap my brains out at the roadside. Got back to Glasgow and went straight to A&E where I discovered I had food poisoning. 🙁

Moo ha ha! Some absolute belters here! I'm still giggling about the electric fence! 😆

Mine is very tame. After fitting brand new V8's I went off to Queen Elizabeth country park for a play a few weeks back. 5 min into the ride I was going round an off camber trail when the back wheel decides to go its merry way along a root, making me crash on to my left side. Left leg gets sandwiched between said V8 and ground and gets ripped open by those nastily sharp studs. Quick visit to Petersfield minor injuries unit results in 4 stitches (none of those pishy paper ones!) and a shed load of glue.

Went to Les Arcs last autumn, arrived at the hostel, quick bite to eat, went to bed. Up at 2 am, puking/crapping my guts out, and every 20 mins after that until the uplift van arrived. Climbed into the van, sweating and dizzy, long uplift, at the top I have to run behind a cable car station to crap out all the water I tried to take on, then a push up to start the most technical, rocky route in Les Arcs (can't think of the name, was recommended on here). Can barely concentrate on the trail ahead, and every time I lift the front wheel or pop off a rock, I'm battling not to crap myself. Fantastic trails, beautiful weather, amazing scenery, and all I wanted to do was make it down the hill and go to bed. Basically spent my entire holiday dehydrated, exhausted and sick, didn't eat for about three days, and came home.

The only bike rides I've not enjoyed are when mates bring someone else with them who's idea of a mountain bike ride is diametrically opposite to mine.

e.g. a short blast around the local loop turns into an all-night-lets-stop-and-take-pictures-of-the-scenery epic

or an all-day ride in the mountains has to be cut short by someone else's ineptitude

Some real horrors here.

Mine - a bit different but the most miserable I have been on a bike was this spring - sunny ride into work for a night shift, dressed for sunshine. Time to go home in the morning its downhill into driving icy rain. I was soaked cold and miserable within seconds. Only 20 mins or so home but it was a most unpleasant experience. Just miserable

I was going to say ,the Keilder 100 last year,but I have to +1 Mafiafish and BoardinBob on Ae .
I did an XC race there a few years ago,and I have never had a Midge session as bad (ever) .I should have known something was up ,when there was a lack of people walking about in the car park.
I really should have known how bad it was going to get,when the guys at signing on ,had midge nets with built in goggles( they were like something out of Doctor Who).I really should have got back in the car and driven all the way back to Edinburgh,but no,I was there ,so man up and get on with it.
I had so many bites around my eyes after the first lap,that I couldn't see where I was going in the forest sections,and the trails were a mudslide fest. Game over ,muddy bike in the car,back up the road. I have never been back.

All these near death adventures and soiling oneself episodes at least have the advantage of being in some way epic, or funny.

I joined a group ride round the Mendips, which have some of the best riding you'll find anywhere if led by someone who knows his onions. Note "if".

Ya know those trails that you'd only ever ride in order to link to something else? This ride was ALL those. Absolutely no technical challenge to be found in the entire 3 or 4 hours. In the pouring rain all the way.

Worst of all, someone just a tiny tiny bit famous came along to be "shown the Mendips". How desperately embarrassing. 😳

Got a puncture one night and my spare was knackered too. A 6 mile walk back to the car alone, in the dark, in the rain, was less than pleasant.

I also had to abandon a train one day on the way back from a ride. No toilet on board and I was bent double trying to hold the jobbies in. I begged the guy at the station to let me use his toilet but he was for none it. I limped out of the station, climbed over a fence into some bushes and let rip.

I dunno, most of my bad rides have some redeeming features, even if they end with broken body parts that usualy means the rest of the ride had been good.

Tough days that broke you again and again until you slipped into a weeping pit of despair... and then you carried on, are remembered as the best days of your life. They are the days you truly fought; truly lived.

Did this on the road bike accross the NYM's from Skelton, the Whitby, Scarbrough, Pickering, Whitby, Skelton. 100 miles. With abosloutely no training (not even regular bike riding for the last couple of months!)

Skelton - Whitby, feeling good, had a coffee, congrats to myself on the first 25 miles incident free and on time.

Whitby - Scarborough, Ok, starting to feel it in the legs, but making good time and almost halfway through.

Scarborough - Pickering, this bit broke me, it's just an unrelenting series of short climbs and decents, no rythym, no views, just pain and light drizzle.

Pickering - Whitby, if I thought the last stage was bad, this was worse, big climbs over several miles, with short sharp plumets over the other side, repeat untill Whitby.

Whitby - Skelton. Not feeling too bad now, reached a point of such eppic bonked-ness that I could only ride as fast as I could eat jelly beans. And as I only had half a bag left I was pretty sure thi was going to hurt.

Made it as far as the climb out of Sandsend when I started hearing voices, then about a minute later, the crying. Then about a minute later I realised they weren't in my head, I really was crying and swearing at lamposts!

Made it upto the top of the last hill and it's startting to get dark. Magical time to be out on the road bike in the middle of nowhere. I always think of the NYM's as pretty barren and devoid of wildlife, but on the roadbike your completely silent passing heards of deer that have been hidden all day and owls flying allonside the road looking for food. The last 20 minutes almost made up for the previous 7 hours of pain!

Summer 2007

Set off on a south lakes epic, with the plan of meeting my mate half way round.

Taking in a section of the North Face i mistimed a jump and went down hard. Knocked my self out briefly on rock, trashing my helmet. When I came to I had to use the scissors on my leatherman to cut the flaps of flesh dangling from my palms (forgot my gloves). With my palms taped up with electricians tape and bits of collar from my jersey i set off down the descent at Lawson park. Hit a rock coming off one the drops pinch flatting, whereupon i realised i'd forgotten tubes/repair kit. Also noticed my back seemed quite wet and upon inspection had split my camelbak, anywhoo, bodged a knot repair and set off for consiton hoping to find a tube there, which i eventually did but had no money to pay for it. Time was pressing on and Davo would waiting at Iron Keld so I manned uponce more and headed off. When I finally met him, some 1:15Hr late he thankfully had plenty of tubes spare and we fixed the flat and set off up iron keld.
2/3rds of the way up the steep climb the threads on my crank bolt stripped sending the arm to the ground. There was just enough thread left to resecure the crank by neither of us had an 8mm allen key and so I did the descent on one crank, perching my other foot on the spindle skicking out the other side of the BB.
Once the fun bit was over and all that was left was a tedious road climb we met up with some other bikers who lent me the allen key. I'd originally planned to cycle home but thankfully my mate took pity and dropped me off - a sh!t day out and no mistake.

Allegedly! The worst for me was, when i was run over by a farmer, myself and four mates were just ridin along and missed the right turn for the bridleway and carried on down a nice quick hill, when i got to the bottom i looked back to see my mates, followed by a purple faced farmer, my mates oblivious to him carried on past me, i pulled up onto a bank of a ditch, farmer pulled up and said, "get of my laaand", i did smirk a little, i said sorry didnt realize we were not on a bridleway, i said il catch my mates up and we'l be off your land, he said no you wont and he reached round for his shooter and stuck it under my nose, i said, thats a bit naughty, i moved the gun and rode off in front of his 4x4 so he couldnt shoot me in the back, so he just run me over, crushing my bikes rear end and front wheel,he probably realized i could be hurt so he rolled back off of me, the ground was really hard at the time and i luckily wasnt hurt, but he soon was.

As we drove north over Dunmail Raise towards the start of the route at Wythburn, I jokingly said to Pete, "We'll enjoy climbing back over here at the end of the ride", adding, "at 7pm tonight". 7pm was a good three hours later than we expected to be finishing the ride. My sarcasm didn't seem so funny at 8pm, as we winched miserably up Dunmail.

This was a ride where enthusiasm but a lack of fitness collided with 'it looks good on the map' route planning. Death Ride 2009. There's a reason why the bridleway from Stonethwaite, over Greenup Edge and down Far Easedale Gill doesn't appear in many (any?) mountain bike route guides. It is because it's completely rubbish for mountain biking.

The ride prior to Stonethwaite had been good fun, although the wet ground of the fell tops had meant that pedalling was a near constant requirement, even on the descents, in order to maintain any form of momentum. This had sapped energy and seriously slowed progress, but the main problem was the heat. It was ludicrously hot, with no trace of a breeze to provide any sense of respite.

Around about the time we thought we'd have been in the car on the way home, we found ourselves hefting our bikes up the almost-rock-climb of Lining Crag. Disco slippers were not the right shoes for this terrain. Eventually things leveled out at Greenup Edge. I was feeling pretty desperate, but a glance at Pete's salt-encrusted face - his sweat had quite literally baked onto his head - suggested he was in worse shape than I.

Better lighten the mood, I thought. "It's okay pal. Downhill now, it's the payback." Then Pete noticed he'd got a puncture, which he didn't have before the hike-a-bike section. It was a pinch flat. How do you get a pinch flat, carrying your bike? Dark forces were at work. I distinctly remember the look on his face. It was exactly like that you'd give when your wife rings you to say she's not going on that long weekend away with her friends after all, so you can spend some time together instead, 'cos that'll be nice, won't it?

Puncture fixed, but a further blow was about to be struck on poor Pete. Ring ring. "Hello dear... No, we're still out... Yes, I know I said sixish... I don't know, three hours? Look, I'm on the top of a fing mountain, what do you want me to do? Fing fly home?" I sensed he was running out of patience with this whole sorry affair.

And so the descent began. My recollection of this is hazy. I don't know if it's genuinely unrideable for most of the way, or if we were just too smashed to make sense of it. Either way, it was beyond us by that point, so the hard-won descent was mainly negotiated on foot. Then there was the little treat of Dunmail Raise to enjoy, back to the car.

It was about 9pm when Pete dropped me at home. Immediately I phoned to order curry. I didn't bother getting changed out my stinking riding kit before going to collect it. I think I managed the food and half a can of beer before 'I'll just close my eyes for a moment' became 'awakening on the sofa at half four in the morning'.

All that said, though, should the wife ever grant me permission to ride my bike again, I'd probably still have another shot at that route, just to see if it's as bad as I remember.

stevestunts - I'd probably still have another shot at that route, just to see if it's as bad as I remember.

I once attempted to ride at Glentress with the worst hangover ever experienced.

Unless there are two people with the same luck, forgetfulness and shonky cycle maintenance routines, who also rode that route in 2007, then [b]thestabiliser[/b] is someone very familiar to me, but who's online persona I was not aware of until now 😛

In which case, it only seems right to make some corrections to his account:

Taking in a section of the North Face i [s]mistimed a jump[/s] thought about vampires, took my hands off the bars to cover my eyes and [s]went down hard[/s] fell off.

Noticed my back seemed quite wet and upon inspection had [s]split my camelbak[/s] voided my bowels when I fell off, anywhoo, bodged a [b]balloon[/b] knot repair and set off for consiton

2/3rds of the way up the steep climb the [b]dodgy[/b] threads on my crank bolt [b]that I'd known about for ages but ignored[/b] stripped sending the arm to the ground.

Happy to help clear that up, Pete 😉

Red route at Dalby forest. Boring and long for the sake of long

Last Thursday, on the way from the very top of Les Arcs to 1800 via route 9 ( easy enough) until. Massive bee flew into my helmet. (mate says it was a fruit fly)

I simply panicked and HAD to get my hat off. I Lost the front wheel and fell heavily onto my shoulder thereby ripping a muscle in my back.

It sort of screwed up our plans with white 8 and black 8 for that afternoon as well as a few runs around St Foy the next day.

Luckily we were due to fly home late on Friday night so I only lost a few hours riding out there but looks like it will be a week or so before I can ride a bike and a month or so before I can be considered fully recovered.

Snapped chain in a powder storm. Everything got cold and wet and then I had to put wet oily hands into my previously clean dry gloves. Still loved it all and ended up doing about 25kms through deep powder snow. Not really worst, just least bestest. 🙂

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As we drove north over Dunmail Raise towards the start of the route at Wythburn, I jokingly said to Pete, "We'll enjoy climbing back over here at the end of the ride", adding, "at 7pm tonight". 7pm was a good three hours later than we expected to be finishing the ride. My sarcasm didn't seem so funny at 8pm, as we winched miserably up Dunmail.

This was a ride where enthusiasm but a lack of fitness collided with 'it looks good on the map' route planning. Death Ride 2009. There's a reason why the bridleway from Stonethwaite, over Greenup Edge and down Far Easedale Gill doesn't appear in many (any?) mountain bike route guides. It is because it's completely rubbish for mountain biking.

The ride prior to Stonethwaite had been good fun, although the wet ground of the fell tops had meant that pedalling was a near constant requirement, even on the descents, in order to maintain any form of momentum. This had sapped energy and seriously slowed progress, but the main problem was the heat. It was ludicrously hot, with no trace of a breeze to provide any sense of respite.

Around about the time we thought we'd have been in the car on the way home, we found ourselves hefting our bikes up the almost-rock-climb of Lining Crag. Disco slippers were not the right shoes for this terrain. Eventually things leveled out at Greenup Edge. I was feeling pretty desperate, but a glance at Pete's salt-encrusted face - his sweat had quite literally baked onto his head - suggested he was in worse shape than I.

Better lighten the mood, I thought. "It's okay pal. Downhill now, it's the payback." Then Pete noticed he'd got a puncture, which he didn't have before the hike-a-bike section. It was a pinch flat. How do you get a pinch flat, carrying your bike? Dark forces were at work. I distinctly remember the look on his face. It was exactly like that you'd give when your wife rings you to say she's not going on that long weekend away with her friends after all, so you can spend some time together instead, 'cos that'll be nice, won't it?

Puncture fixed, but a further blow was about to be struck on poor Pete. Ring ring. "Hello dear... No, we're still out... Yes, I know I said sixish... I don't know, three hours? Look, I'm on the top of a fing mountain, what do you want me to do? Fing fly home?" I sensed he was running out of patience with this whole sorry affair.

And so the descent began. My recollection of this is hazy. I don't know if it's genuinely unrideable for most of the way, or if we were just too smashed to make sense of it. Either way, it was beyond us by that point, so the hard-won descent was mainly negotiated on foot. Then there was the little treat of Dunmail Raise to enjoy, back to the car.

It was about 9pm when Pete dropped me at home. Immediately I phoned to order curry. I didn't bother getting changed out my stinking riding kit before going to collect it. I think I managed the food and half a can of beer before 'I'll just close my eyes for a moment' became 'awakening on the sofa at half four in the morning'.

All that said, though, should the wife ever grant me permission to ride my bike again, I'd probably still have another shot at that route, just to see if it's as bad as I remember.

Last years Rough Ride sits up high in my list, along with a torrential Gorrick Enduro from 2-3 years back...

Ooh, Gorrick 50, from years back. Swinley Woods. Horrible conditions. I managed 10 of the aforementioned 50, in the hub-deep, ten-foot-wide, trail of mud, then thought "sod this" and went home.

Edit - probably not my worst ever ride, but you stirred up a bad memory.

Mine is easy...second lap of Dusk Till Dawn in 2010, if you were there you know just how bad it was. If you were not then try and imagine pushing a bike through a forest in the dark in heavy rain and deep mud for hours on end with no sight of a decent downhill or anywhere you could actually pedal a bike for more than 10 metres and you are surrounded by hundreds of equally miserable,angry, muddy, wet and tired cyclists, oh how we all laughed...My second lap took about 2hrs 50 minutes and was almost fun for approximately the first 2. Oh I forgot to mention I forgot to refill my camelback before my second lap...

The horror of the course was only matched by the state of the toilet block after 1000 muddy cyclists have used it...

I am never doing dusk till dawn ever again.

The one when I laboured up the big hill, slogged along the big fire road, got 2 minutes into the first fun bit and my frame broke in half was not great.

Failing that, 10 Under the Ben, in 2010 I think it was. Not really the event's fault, just wasn't my thing but having a crap time while riding under the gondola cables every lap and thinking "I could be doing that instead" was salt in the wounds. Came very close to just cutting my number board off and going for a ride.

That Gorrick wasn't that bad, just expensive and slow, although i would say that as I managed to not come DFL by virtue of not stopping after lap 1!

Tonights pootle was fairly epic though for mud. What looked (and probably was) a nice 2 mile detour tot he other side of the valley and back to add a few miles onto my usual evening training loop turned out to be a favored route with horsey types, 3 miles of calf deep stinky midge infested horse crap filled 6ft wide swamp superimposed onto the hillside which meant i missed the chippy at the end of the ride.

The worst bit is I've spent 2 evenings looking for that f****** bridelway and it looked mint on the map (steep + corners). For the effort and expectation I was certainly expecting more!

A quick time for that ride would probably be an hour (13 miles, 20% ST, 50% farm track, 25% road, 5% carrying), my fastest is about 90 minutes, tonight took double that!

Whereabouts, thisisnotaspoon? You've got three profile locations and I only live in one of them, but I'm interested...

(...in avoiding it, if it's one of my local ones)