Written in brain-dump format, no spell checking or proof reading (I do realise that will irk some of your – oh and my lawn is shit, and my patio is well over due for weeding) but this was ready to be out of my so here it is…

I am slowly leaving the incredible, and frankly unbelievable bubble that I’ve been privileged to inhabit for the last few days. It was a very peculiar and otherworldly experience. Actually I can’t process what had happened. I’m hoping that writing this will help me

After I finished people told me it was a great ride – quite right, it was a great ride. And I don’t mean to sound conceited when I write that. Actually what I’m trying to convey is that the route, scenary, trail conditions and people were all truly great. Alan has created and nurtured a classic, a masterpiece, a delicious, tempting, beautiful route that promises so, so much and delivers it all. And more. It is the stuff that dreams are made of. I spoke with him briefly the afternoon after he got back, he seemed pleased that so many people had loved their ride. He was proud, and rightly so, he should be, the man is an evil genius and should be knighted for services to making people unfeasibly happy.

every one loves a ride report, right? Well I’m writting one so you can read it if you want…

The HT550 had been on my radar for as long as it had existed. But back then, being honest I wan’t up to it. I knew that, and if you know that there is no chance of finishing then theres no point in starting.

Over the last few years I’ve managed to overcome some pretty significant health issues, which is maybe a story for another time, and have ridden my bike quite a lot. It had got to the point where I thought that actually I could give it a respectable go.

Prepartions went ok. plans for various rides went in the diary, some were missed due to family stuff, ilness and work. But I had some good long rides – usually in the rain or snow! I got used to those long measured efforts. Particular highlights were a 4 day recce trip of the southern loop of the ht550 new start and all with Mark Evans, also PostieRichs Jennride – an incredible route, in incredible weather and trail conditions in celebration of an incredibe woman, it was maybe my bestday ever on a bike and almost too perfect a day to have been real. I know I’m not alone in thinking that.

Thursday
I traveled up to Tyndrum nice and early. Left after work. I’d decided that parking the camper up by the devils beeftub would be a nice thing to do. It’a lovely spot, but also is the scene of my first bivy during an attempt at Ray’s B350. Although I didn’t finish that I rode enough to know I could knock out some long days over tough and unknown ground. So it seemed right. I cruised up the M6 etc and parked up. heated up some dinner, cracked a beer. Ahhhh, lovely. Nice easy drive tomorrow and all day to hnag out, eat, chat to like minded folk and all that. ace.

At about 11.30pm there was a knock at the door. odd as I was parked up a long way from anywhere plus hadn’t and couldn’t see any lights. Sorry, can you help me a quiet voice said. hmmmm, I thought.

I slid open the side door. standing there was a man covered in blood. I’ve rolled my car he says. Ok, no worries come in and have a seat. Lights on, blue Vynil gloves on, kitchen towel for him to hold on his head while I clean his face up. Seemed to be one big cut on his scalp. He is lucid and remembers the whole thing. Police and ambulance called on the handsfree while tending to his wounds. You seem to know what you are doing he says. Yes, well I’m a nurse who used to teach BLS and first aid at work so this is no biggy. Oh my god how luck yis that he says. Hmmm. I think. Police and ambulance come, take him away. Drama over I think. then at 1:40am another police car with a massive tow truck arrive, knock on for more questions and to recover the car. So much for a restful night.

Friday
I pick up Eric and Jill from Canada, well, a hotel near glasgow airport to be precise… Chatter in the van on the way up. They are two lovely people and we chat about the differences they are likely to encounter and a host of other stuff.

Tyndrum, the start, people milling about. forecast is good. Folk are keen to get it done. A group of us have a steady ride out to over the first 10km or so, then back to tyndrum for venison burgers in the real food cafe. they are the best!

Saturday
Breakfast in the RFC then a group roll out to the start line, I spy two of my heros and have to say hello. Jenny Graham – she of the 20 odd hours attempts to cross fisherfield epic from last year. how many others would have slunk off home? And Lee Craigie, founder of the Adventure Syndicate – as the very proud dad of an utterly awesome 12 year old daughter I’m a massive fanboy when it comes to resetting the general perception of what women and girls should be and do. It’s an easy and socially acceptable thing to compliment folks on their new bikes so that is the brief topic of discussion. Jimmy Shand is a handsome fellow and Radberry Pink ain’t a girly colour, it looks great!

Howard had finished his ride the morning we were due to start so was the official starter. He did it well, we started. I had decided to spend the first 3 or 4 hours riding to heart rate. One of the few hangovers from my health issues is that I’m not good at judging perceived effort so a HRM is essential for me these days. I diliberatly start well back and pedal out easy, chatting brielfy to a few folk as I pass. Saw and wished Jill the best and get a fist bump from Eric. make gradual progress as we turn off the WHW and on to the new route. it’s a beautiful day but not too hot. time and KMs pass, riding with people passing and being passed. I pass a while with Gian, a lovely swiss guys who is in it for the downhills and has some great looking home made bike bags. I never did get the chance to have a proper scout of them, maybe next time Gian!

After a few hours I spot Ian Barrington stopped ahead, now I’ve never told him this but I’ve always admired him. He was the first person I really noticed as being really good at long distance bike packing, I’ve never finished in front of him and he has always been what I consider as a benchmark of a really good rider. We chat briefly, he says the fast boys and girls have gone off quick and he’s decided to drop off a bit and ride him self into it a bit. I know from emails we’d exchanged that he’d not managed to get his usual level of preperation done. I peddle on and over take making up some distance on a rough down hill section. not surprising as I’m on a Spearfish full suss and he a fully rigid 29er with Plus size front. On this loose descent Gian comes hamering past shouting ‘Chainsaw Forever’. for the next few days everytime I get to a lairy downhill section I feel like Gian will come screaming past again, but I don’t see him after this. Ian catchs me on a long cimb when I’m back to HRM watching, and stops to take some pictures. I get to see a slide show after we are finished. There are some great shots in there and are well worth looking up. He has a really good blog and I’m sure they will find their way on there. I see Ian for the last time at Ben Alder Cottage, which as good a bothy as any in Scotland, just in case you happen to be passing…

…I was, 80 odd KM into the route, it was early afternoon at this point so onwards to Fort Augustus for pizza. In my many and varied musings on how I would ride this route I had come up with a set of pace notes. each leg brocken down into I figured I’d be at FA for after the pizza place shut at 10. I’m well ahead of that schedule though, so figure a stop at Laggan cafe is worth doing. On the road section before this Fraser comes flying past tucked down on his clip on aero bars. Now I’m conflicted by this, lets face it aero bars on a mountain bike look sub standard. and thats from a guy who runs front, rear and down tube mudguards ALL YEAR ROUND. but clearly, i relise as fraser blusts psat, they really do make you fly on the road. Hmmm. I have Jones Loop bars, I shuffle back on the saddle lean my forearms down on to the bars, oh, aero position. OK then how does this work, straight back like wiggo, instantly I need to change up 3 gears as its too easy peddling now. Right, game on, lets fly then. Laggan, phone goes on – loads of texts and messages ping through. TURN YOUR SPOT ON is the general message. It is on I think. call Helen and text Greg and figure out a fix. hmmm, doesn’t work as I find out when I call him while pushing up the Carriarick pass. so a manual ‘OK’ meassage every hour is agreed on. This results in, erm, quite a large volume of spamming via my Facebook and Twitter accounts, sorry everyone!

Arriving at 7.30, so hours ahead, the pizza place is run by a very efficient, if slightly grump Turlish family, I’ve been before and had decided what I was having about 3 hours ago. Hello, sir are you eating in? Yes, I’ll sit with them please. Man turns away, clearly use to people needed menus and time. But I know what I want, Shish Kebab, raice and salad and a 10 inch perperoni pizza, coke, Efes and a pint of water. of course sir, you want to wait until your friend arrives before I bring it? Nope, it all for me, I’ll take it as soon asits ready thanks. I sit down, there are helmets, empty glasses and, I notice, a 7/8s uneated pizza. soon Alan apears looking shell shocked and a like he has heat stroke. I really didn’t expect him to still be here when I rolled in. OK Alan how’s it going? I’m an Idiot, Bloody Lee Craigie, and that blood Scott Lindsay. What, Why? I’ve cooked trying to keep up with her, with him, hammering down from the col to Culra. bloody elite rider, that scott too. Practically cheating, I’m going to DQ the pair of them for being too good. His pizza goes in a box, nearly uneaten and he leaves. people arrive, see my food, order the same. looks good. My pizza goes in a bag for later. Pay up, not before buying snickers (4 of course) and roll out.

Through the woods above loch ness heading for invermorriston. along the road and turn up the forest road, sun gone now. I remember the length and steepness of theoad climb up to loch na stac, on the recce we pushed most of it. No worries I think, HRM, and all well ahead of schedule, I arrive at the first lochs, hang on that means I’ve ridden nearly all of the climb, no recolection of it really. push and ride the bouldery lochsidealong Na Stac, past the haunted house and deceide that I’ll risk Corimony Bothy, or Chews Hut as its also known. It a very small nonMBA bothy and I figure it could be very busy as the new start seems a fair bit quicker. I’m thinking the fast lot will be well past but it brings it into play for the next group back. Only one other bike outside and Frasers light is just still on in the scruffier right hand room. in the main room are some folks stying over to see the Black Grouse Lek (google is your friend here…). I think I’m the only rider He didn’t speak to, everyone else seems to have had a lecture. I toss and turn, a bit to amped up to sleep but…. first day 184km/3200m. I check later and am staggered to find that I have the KOM on strava for the section Alan was talking about. 45 seconds quicker than Scott in second over a 10 minute downhill segment, water bars a-plenty

Sunday
during the night I hear someone come into the bothies other room, thinking it’s another racer. at 3.25 and alarm goes off next door, there’s light in the sky and I feel OK. I know the next section is easy riding so get up and pack. Set off in the grey morning, high clouds a bit chilly. down to Corimony and the turn off at Cannich, its early and the campsite cafe, lovely as it is wouldn’t be open for hours. the long climb up to Orrin loch is not fun, muddy (imagine that!) rutted and the wrong sort of steep. But pushing and peddling and drinking out of some murky stream I get it done. quick descent to Contin and the shop at 8.30am. The woman there knows our game, what we are doing. Here’s one she beams to an older guy in for his morning paper. It’s the first place I’ve been so far that are following the dots, looking out for when we will be calling in for re-supply. In many ways perfect customers. realing in, grabbing 15, 20 quids worth of flapjack, snickers, crisps, pies. maybe something hot if there is. shovelling some down outside. pack the rest into bags and roll out. all in less than 5 minutes. So even if we stink (we probably do, certainly do later), if we are wild eyed (we are), if we talk TOO DAMNED LOUD because of the wind passing our ears and the crunch under our tyres and too fast becuase we’ve spent hours and hours and hours riding bikes too fast so our sense are so tuned, ramped up on high alert, so that flying a supersonic fighter plane would be just too easy and if we are covered in dust, mud, blood, snot, grazes and deer sub standard at least we are in and out quickly plus a good topic of local gossip too. But actually its not like that at all. Without exception all of the lovely people in the local hotels and shops that watch the dots are so, so welcoming, so kind. In awe of what we are putting ourselves through, even if they think it is a bit daft. Heads are shaken when told how far has been ridden that day, and moreso when how far still to be ridden is discussed. but all this with a smile.

The women says that only a few have been through, there was a woman waiting here at 6 when I opened up she says. Lee I tell her, what Lee Craigie she says. that’ll be her I confirm. Wish I’d known that she says. WAtched her at the Commonwealths down the road the other year. I figure that Lee will be pretty near the front. which is only two and a half hours away. wow. would not have expected that. a sit down, two ginsters pies, a snickers, fizzy orange and crisps. the cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast. more snacks in the bike bags and on the road, forest tracks over to the lodge at inchbae and onto the estate tracks leading the Oykell Bridge Hotel. big grey clouds out right in some of the smaller glens and after a while a massive bang, thunder really close but confined to the next glen. a few hours of rain follow me north and for the first time I feel tired. stopping at a stream for two bottles to drink now and one to put on the bike. I only carried one 500ml bottle and employed this tactic through out. If the stream looked good I’d neck at least one full bottle there and put it full again, back on the bike. If it look OKish I’d just fill up and hope to find something better down the road. soon enough the turn for Oykel bridge hotel arrived. I’ve ridden most sections at various times but never any of the, much feared and much discussed northen loop. Inot the OBH, its a very exclusive salmon fishing hotel in the grand old tradition, catering mainly for very welathy southerners ant several hundred pounds a day. Gulp, being a stinky, loud sub standard covered, and currently soaking wet biker feels wrong being here. But again a warm smile and welcome from Sean a mancunian in exile. There is a HT550 menu printed out, a few simple meals that are quick to serve, easy to keep in an edible condition, are very tasty and served in huge portions! theres also great tea and coffee and home bakng. THe OBH really go out of their way to make us racers welcome, it would be a very differant propect without this essential oasis to aim for. I’ve heard they have run peoples kit through the tumble drier in wetter years. and they are watching the dots, waiting for us to land, spaced out and stinking amongst the regular customer and, if the bar is closed, we are welcomed into the carpeted and plushed armchaired main lounge. no, no please do sit down, what can we get you. Amongst all the people raving about how great they founf the OBH to be I did hear one racer say they thought it was a bit expensive. I totally disagree, the costs of staffing and running a business as remote as this must be huge, and being able to get a warm welcome and hot food at anytime between 7am and 11pm this far out is, as they say priceless.

As I’m readying to leave Sean asks what my plans are. I tell him i have no idea but am well, well ahead of schedule. that my only plan had been to drink a beer on my 40th birthday. I ask what time they will be open until. he says food until 11 for us and if I’m back the beer is his gift. Ok, well back for evening and a roll along to the school house bothy, another great one if you are nearby. along the long peddly road section, all cruised in the new found aero position. at one point a car over takes, slowly and still manages to screetch to a halt next to me. Look at them, look they say, pointing at two big birds, Ospreys they tell me. I love to see wildlife when out oand about but am hopeless at know what is what. Ospreys are big and have a very elbowy way of flying which actually looks a bit awkard complared to eagles I’ve seen before.

The other good thing about the aero position is that as I keep savoury food items in the Wildcat Lioness up front i can reach down and eat pies as I go. aawesome! this section is long and has a lot of peddling, unlike the first of the main events of the northern loop, a truly off grid encounter with the tussock and peat hags between glen golly and bealach horn. But thats still a few hours peddle away. it’s before the climb of the mettaled road up moavally that I begin to expereince long periods of ‘the zone’ the mental state that sports psychologists name as the state where you are not really excercising concious control over your performance, I’ve had this a lot in climbing back in the day, bouldering or on the few short and nasty solos that i did. Never so much on a bike though. Its mesmorising traveling through the landscape for such long periods, so many stunning views all arround, near and far. But I don’t stop to admire them, I don’t need to – I’m absorbing them into me. I am part of them and they are part of me. We are all part of the same story, the same journey, I’m being drawn forever forwards and It’s as though I’m being remotley controlled or in a dream. My legs hurt now, my contact points, feet and sitting area hotspots of pressure. niggles in my right knee and achillies. But it doesn’t matter. they are all just stimuli and it is entirely in my control how I choose to respond to them. some I will adress, creme for chaffing, food to be eaten, water, but swelling tendon sheaths. just accept it, know that no permanent damage is being done and pedal on. It hurts. So. ****. What. I’m doing what I came here to do. Although I never really told anyone before (although those that know me knew!) I came to race this not ride it. that meant racing myself and the clock I’m not into head to head racing. well, it turns out out that I am but we won’t find out about that until tomorrow…

to be continued