Sleepriding between Edinburgh and London

"Do you think it's ever going down again?" John shouts from behind me. Although he is quite used to a
howling wind, the combination of headwind, Scottish mountains and barren highlands is causing some
problems, even for him. For two days we had been blown forward by a fierce south-western wind,
making the first day of London-Edinburgh-London into a sleigh ride. But now, after the turnaround in
Edinburgh, we had to inch our way back to London against the wind.

All started very easy two days earlier in Harlow. This little town just north of London was the southern
start of the 4th edition of LEL. Most foreign entrants had chosen Harlow as their point of departure. So
the start was not the typical AUK-style of starting to pedal and taking it easy. No, it looked more like a
road-race. A mad pack thrust itself forwards, aided by a strong tailwind. Italian was the language to use
here, and the pack was an organised chaos, but moving swiftly. For two brief moments the pace was
slackened, once we missed a sidestreet to turn into, but one of the few British around helped out, the
other time was more spectacular. Hubertus Hohl managed to get his brake-lever caught up in the rear
rack of Andrei Hanalainen. His bike was pulled from underneath him and he ended on the floor. But
this did not stop him in realising a very fast time, together with Richard Leon. Anyway, we arrived in
Longstowe just a few minutes after the control opened.

In Longstowe I took a leisurely break. At least half of the fast pack just got their card stamped and their
pockets stuffed, but not for me. After a while I set out again. Since the tour was already in full action, I
started listening to Dutch Worldservice. In between the static I could inform the other riders around me
about the happenings in the Pyrenees. No problems for that stage, and the reception in Thurlby
youthhostel was as good as ever.

Halfway towards Lincoln I was finally overtaken by a nice group. Pedals and Dr. Box were leading it,
and the pace was typically audax, easy going, but steady. In Lincoln the control was a bit chaotic,
hardly any facilities. I still wanted to eat something, but had to be content with sandwiches from the
nearby service station. With the group I set out again, but a call of nature eased me into riding solo to
Thorne again. Anyway, the group was sprinting to Thorne, in order to catch some sleep there. I
preferred to take it a little easier and continue during the night.

In Thorne it was an organised chaos. Bodies strewn everywhere, and lots of bikes for overnighting.
Group after group arrived, but hardly a soul left the control. After more than an hour of eating and
lounging I set out with a novice rider for the long stretch towards Hovingham. This novice proved to be
a very weak nightrider. I had to drag him along for quite a while until he disappeared from behind me.
It was light already when I approached the feared hills around Howard Castle, signalling the end of the
flatlands. I knew that they would hurt. But I managed to get over them and reach the nice control in
Hovingham. While I was still eating and restocking from my bag, some large groups arrived. They had
set out of Thorne just before dawn. Most of the Italians were in this group.

A while before they got out again I was on the road already. But soon they overtook me when I was
helping a rider with a broken spoke. In Barton Truckstop I saw them again, but they dashed off when I
was interpreting for the Lepertels. Finally I realised that it was impossible to do some interpreting,
assist before the start, take pictures AND make a decent time. I forgot about that and went completely
to the tourist mode.
From last time I remembered that after Barton Truckstop the stage would be short but tough. Yad Moss
can be compared with a medium-level mountain pass, to speak in Tour de France language, a cat. 2
climb. So at the foot of the pass, in Barnard Castle, I bought some refreshments. While entering the
shop, I put my radio & earphones on the handlebars. Of course I forgot them when I started again,
resulting in a defected earphone. So no info on the tour anymore. The pass itself was beautiful again. I
thoroughly enjoyed it. An Italian couple was not enjoying it at all. I had seen them in Thorne, where
they were already completely worn out. The fast pace of the first two stages was taking it's toll on
them. I passed them at the foot of the pass. Halfway up the pass, at the Langdon Beck YH control they
already lost half an hour on me. Finally they decided to pack in Langdon Beck. The control itself was
great. Heather Swift was leading it. With her I had a 24-hour long duel during the Mersey Side 24hours
last year. She started 1 minute ahead of me, we saw each other lots of times during that race. Now she
was leading the control, in a very good way.

Continuing up the pass after the control, I encountered many sheep. They were running around
everywhere, often crossing the road just in front of my frontwheel. The descent of Yad Moss was
finished off with a decent cobble-hill. Some British riders had problems negotiating it, but with plenty
of Flemish cobbles on my usual terrain, I just crashed down on it, overtaking two startled car drivers.
That cobble hill really woke me up, towards Carlisle I continuously overtook other riders and small
groups.

In Carlisle most of the other riders decided to sleep. I judged it way too early and decided to push on to
Eskaldemuir. The road to Eskaldemuir was nearly completely upwards. Still on the A7 I decided to
take a short kip on the verge. Within a few minutes a car stopped, and the driver started enquiring about
my well-being. Wide awake again, I resumed riding. Within a few kilometers I had to turn left, and the
Scottish darkness fully enveloped me. I didn't see anything more than the small bundle my light threw
on the road. Up it went, and continuously. Only for some brief moments the road turned down again.
The villages, when remarkable, looked completely deserted. Only in Eskaldemuir I started to sense
some signs of civilization. But the control was located behind the village, descending for a change.
After a while I finally spotted a small sign towards the Tibetan centre.

Inside it looked like total carnage. Bodies everywhere, bikes leaned to every possible and impossible
object. In a far corner a few controllers and monks were huddling together around a small jet-engine
like heater. It all gave a really special atmosphere, completely detached from the outside world. Some
riders, though, were spending time on earthly matters, wolfing down enormous amounts of food. I
joined them for my first serving of temple-food. No mattresses were vacant, so I extracted two
spaceblankets from my rackpack, and selected a nice spot. After some two hours I was informed in a
very nice way by Barbara from Milan that a bed&blanket was free, she gently draped the blanket
around me. But first things first, some food in between two periods of sleep. A while sleeping later I
woke up again, to see a whole new group of riders in the temple. Most riders who were sleeping when I
arrived already had set out, and the first units of riders from Carlisle already arrived. I ate again,
calculated my schedule, and decided that I had time for another two hours of sleep.

After sleeping more than 6 hours I finally left the temple, fully refreshed for the turnaround ride to
Edinburgh. Many Thorne-starters had been coming the other way while riding around Carlisle, now it
was time to greet Harlow-starters already riding back. I continuously met other riders while heading
north. The Italians were still riding strongly, although their bunch had lost some units. In Innerleithen I
restocked on coke at the local newsagent's. It's one of the few villages of any size between Carlisle and
Edinburgh, so quite crucial for your supplies. The last bit towards Edinburgh was rather uneventful,
although it was a nice sight to see the sea and Edinburgh from the top of the Moorfoot hills.
The Edinburgh control again was one of the better ones. Plenty of food, and good seats to rest. I spent
way too much time there, but never mind, it's not a race. The Pedals/Dr. Box gang already had left,
staying not that long at the control.

Leaving Edinburgh was still possible, but the hard ride started when I was at the foot of the Moorfoot
hills. The Northern ascent is nearly completely oriented western, so right into the blowing gale. All the
ride to Eskaldemuir would be like that, constantly battling the headwind. Even during the descents I
had to keep on pushing, topping 40km/h in the descent was hard work. Still, riders were heading out to
Edinburgh. For them it would be a hard ride back, being nearly out of time, and heading into the wind.
I spotted among others Mark Beauchamp and the Slann's tandem. After a while John, the other Dutch
starter in Harlow, caught up with me. Together we battled on, until we lost each other due to
waterstops. I rode on together with Steffen from Germany.

It was a small group which assembled in the temple at dusk. Together we set out. The wind was dying,
so it was a bit easier. Also I remembered from the previous night that from Eskaldemuir to Carlisle it
would be mainly downhill. That proved to be the problem for the majority of our group. Only those
with excellent headlights (at least more than one) could keep up the speed on the downhills. So it lasted
a while in Carlisle until everybody was there again. Most riders went for some sleep, only the
Farnhams and myself set out into the night. We knew that the Jack Eason/Mike Ellison group was also
riding through the night, all others were asleep. I planned to sleep somewhere at a convenient place.
The first place I tried was too windy, so I rode on for a few villages until I found a nearly full enclosed
busshelter. I locked my bike, took my spaceblanket, and spread out on the bench. It was a real comfy
busshelter.

I woke up when the Farnhams passed. A few kilometers later I caught up with them when they stopped
for a call of nature. Dawn had come, and together we plodded on to Alston. In Alston they opted for a
small kip, while I started negotiating the cobbles. Halfway up the hill, a local newsagent opened shop,
so I stopped to buy some snacks and enquire about a new battery. My helmetlight was nearly
completely dead already. To my surprise they had a 4.5V battery, but well hidden on the shelf. Yad
Moss from the northside is not that tough, but still quite some work, especially since the wind was
picking up again. Near the top I was overtaken by the Farnhams. Together we descended to the control.
The descent was quite tricky with all the sheep running around. We arrived at Langdon Beck just when
the Eason/Ellison gang was setting out.

Food was excellent again, but even a touring-schedule doesn't allow for long lingering.

While riding to Barton, memories came back from '97. Then I left Langdon Beck in a state of complete
sleep-deprivation, having slept nothing since the start. The film of that part was partly wiped out. Now
the recollections came back, and I started to mend the film. In Barnard Castle I went to Boots to buy
some supplies (antiseptic wipes & second skin). My hands were getting a bit bruised due to the
constant pounding of the bad roads. The saleslady at Boots was already completely informed about
LEL. Previous riders had already nearly completely emptied their supplies of certain products.

Barton Truckstop was getting more and more busy, as some quite fast bunches had overtaken me.
These people were riding faster than I was, but they slept a good deal more. It's all a question of what
fits you best. I prefer to plod on and hardly sleep. I met two US-riders in Barton They were riding a
softride and a Titanflex. It was a pleasant ride to Hovingham, staying together with them for most of
the stage.
In Hovingham it was time again to resupply. There was a bagdrop here, and I sent lots of stuff
forwards. The shorts I rinsed on the way up were already dry and the food was still present. Before
darkness set, I headed out again. Only the Castle Howard hills to negotiate, and then all flat to Harlow.
I was feeling good, and kept going towards Thorne. Shortly before Thorne, a supermarket was still
open. I headed in to resupply for the night. While leaving the shop, the Pedals/Dr. Box gang passed me
again. I had seen their bikes in Carlisle, where they obviously had been sleeping. Directly after the
supermarket I got lost while leaving the small town, but soon I found the road back. In Thorne lots of
already finished riders were sitting and chatting. A really good atmosphere. Here I finally met Wim, the
third Dutch rider present. I had been looking for him before the start, but nobody in the Netherlands
knew him. It turned out that he is Dutch, but lives in Britain.

Again, only a small group was preparing to head out, most people started snoring after a while. Only
the usual suspects not, Jack Eason & company. I set out from Thorne where the Eason gang was
preparing to go out. They would catch me sooner or later. The area around Thorne was flat and hard to
navigate, everything looks the same in the dark there, no clues on altitude. After a while I spotted some
lights behind me. That could only be Jack & company, so I stopped and waited, taking a 5min kip on
the handlebars to make maximum use of the time. It indeed was the group around Jack and Mike. To
my surprise, there was also an Italian was riding together with them. Just like me, they were
considering taking a busshelter somewhere halfway. Since it's hard sleeping with six people in one
busshelter, I opted for an earlier one than they. At daybreak another short kip, and the ride went on to
Lincoln. For a long time a nuclear power station was dominating the view, but finally I could get rid of
that nuisance.

The Lincoln control was quite calm when I arrived. A tired Dave Yates was the only rider visible.
Again hardly any services, so again I got my food from the service station. I wanted to take a short kip,
so I spread out my spaceblanket. But that kip wasn't quite short, in the end I slept two hours on the
grass! Away my plans to ride with groups overtaking me for a while, nearly everybody had passed me
already. So back to plodding mode. I constantly met other riders coming from Harlow and riding
towards Thorne. Now I could see most of them in daylight, not in the dark as around Carlisle. Just
before Thurlby I had to deviate from the route. The new route from Thorne to Harlow was very scenic,
in fact too scenic. Hardly any services, and I was running low on cash. The nearest bank was off-route,
so I had to do that.

In Thurlby lots of riders were assembled, and a nice atmosphere reigned. I sampled lots of their food
selection. After a while Vicky and Dom arrived. Vicky was looking quite tired. Probably her new
position as a PBP-ancienne was wearing her out a bit, now she has to lead the bunchlets as an
experienced rider. It was good to see so many faces I knew from PBP. After about two hours of eating
and talking in Thurlby, I finally set out again. John was already on the road, but he would wait for me
in Longstowe, afraid to get lost again in the dark. Towards Longstowe the route went through many
tiny villages. In one of them the inhabitants had made some nice signs to urge the car drivers to drive
slow. Huge policeman were located at various places, and a big sign at the entrance of the village with
'Sleeping Policemen'. No humps this time. Around that time the wind decreased a bit, a welcome
change.

In Longstowe several riders were already preparing for the last 60k. John had indeed waited. I stayed a
bit shorter than usual, and together we set out into the dusk. The first bit was easy navigating. About
halfway we wanted to have a drink in a pub, but they were not serving anymore, too late. That's a bit
hard to understand for continentals, especially in Belgium the pubs stay open as long as there are
customers. The lanes north of Harlow were quite tricky. We had to ride very slow, otherwise we would
get lost. The battery of my Petzl had died down, and the new one bought in Alston proved to be empty
upon sale. So route-sheet reading was quite hard. In the end I simply navigated along the lights of
London, showing against the clouds. But also an end to that came, and the final kilometers to the finish
were easy again. Inside the finish lots of people were sleeping, but food was still available. And my
sleeping-bag for the first 8-hour night in a long time.

Ivo Miesen