Welcome to the forum
2018 National Hill Climb Championships
Sunday saw the 2018 National Hill Climb Championships at Pea Royd Lane in Stocksbridge, near Sheffield, to which Jenny and (amazingly) myself had both qualified. Jenny loves a hill - I'm less excited by the competitions, and haven't done much specific training this year, but they're a great spectacle and foolishly thought that if we're going to be there anyway, I might as well join in the 'Type-2 fun' bonanza. For reasons that nobody’s very clear about, the competition was suddenly moved with a month’s notice from Shelsley Walsh motor racing venue in Worcestershire – some people weren’t very happy about this, having booked accommodation and trained for the specific climb, but the CTT had done their best to find a replacement hill with similar attributes, so I can’t say we were particularly inconvenienced by it.
Waking up on Saturday morning in the campervan parked on the top of a hill, we were shocked to find near-freezing temperatures and snow flurries – we’ve heard it’s grim up North, but this was spectacular… Riding over to recce the course, we got very wet and extremely cold – suddenly didn’t seem much fun anymore, as we lost feeling in hands and feet. The hill itself was a corker – less than half a mile, but averaging 12% with ramps of up to 26.5% - very hard to get into any kind of rhythm, and a blasting headwind for the second half. I only managed a couple of practice runs, but had to be revived in a nearby café as my body started to shut down and I started blacking out – something that seems to happen when I get too cold…
Fortunately, Sunday brought an improvement in conditions – blue skies and a heady 4 degrees, and the wind seemed to have dried out the roads nicely. Signing in at HQ was a slightly surreal experience – a big Trek dealership in the Fox Valley retail park (Tour de Yorkshire stage finish), as Sunday morning shoppers mixed with painfully underfed cyclists and a mist of embrocation hung low over the car park.
Being seeded as one of the slower men, I was off pretty early, for which I was very grateful – the feeling of dread kept short, rather than having to kill time for up to 4 hours. The level of support from spectators was great, they’d obviously read their programmes, as they seemed to know each riders name, which confused my oxygen-starved brain for a while, amongst the cacophony of battered pans and hunting horns. I can honestly say that this was the most unpleasant hillclimb I’ve ever raced – there’s not really many comparable hills to train on in Hertfordshire, and right from the first section (the 26% bit), my legs told me I was woefully overgeared. The feeling of absolute desperation grew steadily as I moved up the hill, but it just went on and on and on – I think the only thing stopping me from climbing off was the potential embarrassment in front of all these people who seemed to know who I was.
Dave Video Link
Finally I arrived at the last turn, and spotted Jenny who confirmed this time that I really was nearly there – although that last 15 metres or so seemed to take an age, and I was overtaken by the guy behind who started 30 seconds after me just before making the line. Unlike any other hillclimb I’ve taken part in, the finish was still on an incline of about 15%, and two catchers were deployed to support every finisher- without which I almost certainly would have fallen off. The longest 3 minutes 43 of my life. The verge suddenly became the softest, cosiest bed, drawing me in from the madness....
Fortunately Jenny was able to peel me off the bank, and we span back to the van, conveniently parked (with my bed in it) in a field at the top of the hill. She still had an hour before she was due to depart, and still seemed very calm and relaxed. There was a good women's field, and due to this season's run of hillclimb podium results, she was way down the list of 50 or so women, close to serious contenders like former champion Jessica Evans. Whilst Jenny went off to warm up, I had to man-up and get out of the van, and headed off to join the other spectators, who had grown in number since I finished. By now, the weather was starting to look very threatening, with definite storm clouds moving in. I waited towards the top of the climb, marvelling at the strength of some of the riders - despite some of them looking somewhat emaciated, they must be as tough as old boots. After a short wait, a spec of familiar Ashwell blue appeared in the distance, getting closer surprisingly quickly for the gradient - Jenny looked far more relaxed and smooth-pedalling at that stage than I did...
Having said that, I was gratified to see that she needed the catchers just as much as I had, barely having a spare pedal stroke at her disposal after the finish line before also collapsing into my favourite bit of soft verge - a respectable 25th place at 3minutes56.
Jenny Video Link
In all, a great weekend away - turns out neither of us is the National Champion (the honours went to Fiona Burnie and the appropriately-named Andrew Feather), although we can't be 100% sure, as they still haven't published the results. I'm fairly sure I'm not, though, I like pies too much, and we didn't waste any time in finding the local bakery to celebrate the end of a very long racing season...
Waking up on Saturday morning in the campervan parked on the top of a hill, we were shocked to find near-freezing temperatures and snow flurries – we’ve heard it’s grim up North, but this was spectacular… Riding over to recce the course, we got very wet and extremely cold – suddenly didn’t seem much fun anymore, as we lost feeling in hands and feet. The hill itself was a corker – less than half a mile, but averaging 12% with ramps of up to 26.5% - very hard to get into any kind of rhythm, and a blasting headwind for the second half. I only managed a couple of practice runs, but had to be revived in a nearby café as my body started to shut down and I started blacking out – something that seems to happen when I get too cold…
Fortunately, Sunday brought an improvement in conditions – blue skies and a heady 4 degrees, and the wind seemed to have dried out the roads nicely. Signing in at HQ was a slightly surreal experience – a big Trek dealership in the Fox Valley retail park (Tour de Yorkshire stage finish), as Sunday morning shoppers mixed with painfully underfed cyclists and a mist of embrocation hung low over the car park.
Being seeded as one of the slower men, I was off pretty early, for which I was very grateful – the feeling of dread kept short, rather than having to kill time for up to 4 hours. The level of support from spectators was great, they’d obviously read their programmes, as they seemed to know each riders name, which confused my oxygen-starved brain for a while, amongst the cacophony of battered pans and hunting horns. I can honestly say that this was the most unpleasant hillclimb I’ve ever raced – there’s not really many comparable hills to train on in Hertfordshire, and right from the first section (the 26% bit), my legs told me I was woefully overgeared. The feeling of absolute desperation grew steadily as I moved up the hill, but it just went on and on and on – I think the only thing stopping me from climbing off was the potential embarrassment in front of all these people who seemed to know who I was.
Dave Video Link
Finally I arrived at the last turn, and spotted Jenny who confirmed this time that I really was nearly there – although that last 15 metres or so seemed to take an age, and I was overtaken by the guy behind who started 30 seconds after me just before making the line. Unlike any other hillclimb I’ve taken part in, the finish was still on an incline of about 15%, and two catchers were deployed to support every finisher- without which I almost certainly would have fallen off. The longest 3 minutes 43 of my life. The verge suddenly became the softest, cosiest bed, drawing me in from the madness....
Fortunately Jenny was able to peel me off the bank, and we span back to the van, conveniently parked (with my bed in it) in a field at the top of the hill. She still had an hour before she was due to depart, and still seemed very calm and relaxed. There was a good women's field, and due to this season's run of hillclimb podium results, she was way down the list of 50 or so women, close to serious contenders like former champion Jessica Evans. Whilst Jenny went off to warm up, I had to man-up and get out of the van, and headed off to join the other spectators, who had grown in number since I finished. By now, the weather was starting to look very threatening, with definite storm clouds moving in. I waited towards the top of the climb, marvelling at the strength of some of the riders - despite some of them looking somewhat emaciated, they must be as tough as old boots. After a short wait, a spec of familiar Ashwell blue appeared in the distance, getting closer surprisingly quickly for the gradient - Jenny looked far more relaxed and smooth-pedalling at that stage than I did...
Having said that, I was gratified to see that she needed the catchers just as much as I had, barely having a spare pedal stroke at her disposal after the finish line before also collapsing into my favourite bit of soft verge - a respectable 25th place at 3minutes56.
Jenny Video Link
In all, a great weekend away - turns out neither of us is the National Champion (the honours went to Fiona Burnie and the appropriately-named Andrew Feather), although we can't be 100% sure, as they still haven't published the results. I'm fairly sure I'm not, though, I like pies too much, and we didn't waste any time in finding the local bakery to celebrate the end of a very long racing season...
Comments