The Great IBC Bike Ride

Each twist and turn, each grind and coast...

The way out:
Day 1: Cardiff to Swindon (145km with 950m ascent)
Day 2: Swindon to St Albans (137km with 710m ascent)
Day 3: St Albans to Epping section (39km with 330m ascent)
Day 3: Epping to Harwich section (111km with 600m ascent)
Day 4: Hoek van Holland to Nieuwegein (90km with 270m ascent)
Day 5: Nieuwegein to Amsterdam (74km with 260m ascent)

The return:
Day 1: Amsterdam to Hoek van Holland (105km with 430m ascent)
Day 2: Harwich to High Wycombe (190km with 1470m ascent)

Well, my work here is done. Tomorrow I climb back on the bike and sprint for home. I'm looking forward to it. Life on foot is too slow for those of us used to the wind in our face and the rain down the back of our shorts.

Sadly, there will be only four of us returning by bike (Rhys, Nigel, Gabriel, and me). We always knew the risk was there. The Halls of Rai can suck the energy from the best of us. Most of the rest have opted to travel home in a gigantic aluminium tube which will be propelled high into the atmosphere by a series of thousands (if not millions) of barely controlled explosions. It sounds like an immensely complicated system, and even if it all works according to plan, they will still end up travelling at more than 500 miles per hour in an environment with no traffic lights or roadsigns. Personally, I'll stick with the bike.

Which isn't to say you shouldn't sponsor us. It's still going to be a brutal ride. There's a reason you never see the Queen doing charity rides like this. It's not the kind of thing you want to risk your one and only monarch on. Plus, what would you do with the corgis? You couldn't teach them to ride. Their paws would never reach the pedals.

So, come on, cough up some dough so we don't feel like fools. We are still well short of our target -- our promise, if you will, to the CHILDREN OF BRITAIN! Surely they are worth a few thousand of your English pence.

Well, a day has passed since our arrival. IBC is now fully underway and I bump into many friends & colleagues as I prepare for my session. Time to take stock of the experience.

Things I'm glad I took:
Waterproof covers for my bike bags - no fun arriving at the destination and the clothes you want to change into are also damp.

Spare inner tubes. The thought of finding & then fixing a puncture in the rain, with 9 pairs of eyes looking on doesn't bear contemplation.

The iPod. My team-mates frowned upon this (mainly when they were shouting commands to me), but it kept me going as my spirits flagged.

Bike shorts. Everything I was told about them is true - embarrassing to wear, but hugely practical. Saved my bum (& the rest).

Boxer shorts. God, I couldn't wait to peel off the bike shorts every evening.

No rucksack. Everything on the bike. Nothing to carry. That's the way to go.

Fluorescent jacket. It gets scary out there as dusk falls.

A sense of humour.

Lots of pictures.

Lem-Sip!

Some Vignettes
Gabriel's amazing turn of speed on his folding bike - always the first to dash off on errands (like chasing me down a long hill in Harwich to get me back on track).

Dean's bike, that he seems to have borrowed from his grandma. Where others have panniers, he has a Waitrose bag lashed to the back.

Chris Hulme gradually shedding garments and safety gear to increasingly look like the Tour de France hopeful from Belleville Rendezvous - (compare).

The agony of being tailed by 'Red Top' Rhys and hearing him freewheeling at least half the time he's there, while I am having to pedal continually just to keep going.

Nigel's voluminous waterproof panniers, looking more like two wheelie bins strapped to the back. They hold all his worldly possessions, including a proper suit that he wears in the evenings.

Chris Yanda's endless stream of amusing comments. A witty riposte for every occasion.

Adrian's crazy helmet-mounted camera, filming us all from his position at the front: "You are a coal miner, no?" asks the man serving us coffees.

Chris Hulme, continually riding in the leader's slipstream. When I find I am actually in front, he's more of a 'presence', so close I can't even see him when I look back.

Regularly being overtaken by tall blonde teenagers with their flawless looks and riding their rattly Dutch bikes. Somehow puts everything in perspective.

The day doesn't begin well. We await Chris Y at the agreed meeting point while he goes to his boutique bike shop to fix his flat. Hydraulic bike lifts, coffee while you wait, discounts, stickers & personal service. It's a different matter at the rendezvous: Nigel uses his space-age pump to super inflate his tyre & it springs a leak, triggering a tube change. This seems to take forever, with broken tyre levers & the like. The main delay comes from the incredible number of strokes required by THAT pump to reach 100psi. 3 of us take it in turns, with two others variously holding wheel & valve. I am feeling smug when something similar happens to my bike after pumping up the front tyre. Thankfully my inner tube change (and tyre inflation) is mercifully brisk, it only takes some 10', and we finally set off at 10am.

Of course, the delays have piled on the pressure a bit. We have a date with destiny (well, the IBC photographers) at 3pm in Amsterdam, so Adrian is setting a fierce pace. No early breaks today. 20 miles have to be completed before the first coffee-stop, where Appelgebak isn't even served, so ice cream has to serve as a substitute. The ride at this point has been along a canal (no change there then), but this is a particularly beautiful one, lined with spectacular houses. Similarly breathtaking prices no doubt. We pass a palatial residence only to realise it's actually a prison - as picturesque as its surroundings.

On the way we have travelled through Utrecht, where we join the morning ride to work. I have never been in a bike traffic jam before. They are everywhere and the locals keep splitting up the party. We see forests of bikes parked in the Centrum, although it's not all modern - a good, old-fashioned windmill suddenly appears from between the office buildings. Adrian's GPS takes us past some houseboats on the way out of the city. I remark on a tanned, statuesque woman in a bikini having a smoke outside one of them. After I spot three more, the penny drops - we are passing through a rather quaint red-light district. At 11am and in the bright sunshine, it all makes for a dramatic contrast with Amsterdam by night. Maybe this is still going through my mind when I have the first of my near misses during the day - I VERY nearly pitch headlong into a canal as the narrow cycle track takes a sudden left. The thought of the merciless ribbing I would have got leaves me chastened for the next few miles.

As we press on for lunch we are on some pretty small roads. Single-track, we'd call them in the UK. Frequent shouts of "Car Up!" (as in "up yer backside") and "Car Down!" go up and down the column. I am following the leading three at some speed through the winding roads when the shout goes up and the lead (Gabriel) brakes to avoid the Range Rover that refuses to yield. We narrowly miss both a pile up and injury, but only just. Near miss number two. My third fright was boringly simple. I just nearly rode straight into an oncoming car on one of these lanes. It did however prove my theory that dark green cars are actually invisible and should be banned (you try it and see).

It starts to rain. We come to a sudden stop several times as Adrian's GPS database fails to keep up with the lastest Dutch roadworks. We are quite weary when we finally stop for lunch at 30 miles. The restaurant is very smart. We are not. We are therefore tucked away out of sight of the rest of the clientele in the workmen's cabin at the back. At least that's how it feels. Upon seeing the fantastic menu, Chris Yanda is appalled to find that Rhys will only allow him a main course and no starter as time is tight. They resolve to pass back this way on their return ride (yes, some of them are riding all the way back).

After lunch, the pace remains brisk. I think Adrian and the leaders have get-home-itis, whizzing ahead of the rest of us, past the sign marking the Amsterdam city limits and on to the RAI exhibition centre. Just outside, we all put on our official tour polo shirts. Now we look like a team. At the RAI we stop, slightly dazed, for handshakes & team photos in the sunshine. It all seems to be over so quickly.

Rarely have I looked forward to a corporate hotel room as much. The prospect of a long, hot bath and beer was desperately enticing after the 55 miles we covered today. This is of course a mere trifle to my battle-hardened colleagues, but the most I've ever ridden in a day. One hour of bath, Dutch Classic FM, a packet of Pringles and a Heineken later and I can settle down to write this. Human again. Well, not a sweaty cyclist, anyway.

The day went very well, the weather improving through the journey until it was quite hot approaching Nieuwegein (just south of Utrecht). No major disasters (although the Great Rhys took a tumble, to everyone's amazement) and just one puncture - Chris Y again, just as we came to the hotel - we 'lost' him suddenly and he reappeared clutching bike & panniers with that 'yes, it's me again' look.

Riding in Holland is a revelation. It's no coincidence that of the eight punctures, only one has been in the Netherlands. Most cycle tracks are well laid out, flat and billiard table-smooth. It's almost a welcome break to encounter some kind of incline. The one exception to this rule was when we had to negotiate a long series of overlapping steel plates, covered with slippery sand - the cause of Rhys' downfall.

The pace was largely steady, but picked up after lunch. Whether that was the effect of alchohol, or Rhys (who was leading) trying to demonstrate that his Wit Beer had had no effect on him I don't know. Normally he's to be found at the back, like a good shepherd (actually, make that 'sheepdog') making sure we don't lose the waifs & strays. Rhys is amazing - the oldest of the bunch by a mile, the progenitor of this whole event six years ago and the ONLY one to have taken part in all six. We treat him with some respect, if not awe. Over lunch he was seeing if anyone would be interested in his next project - the hundreds of miles over the Sierra Nevadas from LA to attend the NAB convention in Las Vegas. I don't think there were any takers. There were mutterings of 'Death Valley' and the like...

By and large we rattle along at about 15mph (according to my gadget - everyone's seems to read differently). This is of course pathetic for some of the team and Chris Yanda couldn't help but slip in behind a faster rider that was overhauling us and vanish, tailing him into the distance. Maybe it was the fact that the rider wore a yellow jersey that made it irresistible.

The bike has behaved impeccably and performed well, with just that little tweak from Chris Yanda (to the gears). Actually its motive unit hasn't done badly either, topping 20mph for some stretches (but not for long!) No serious problems and even my bum doesn't hurt. Amazing. I think I may have felt the merest hint of a knee starting to say something at 52 miles, but I decided not to listen and we're still on speaking terms as I write. The coughing & runny nose has been an ever-present backdrop, but doesn't seem to have dulled my performance or enthusiasm.

I am beginning to understand why not all of the team are as lean as 350-miles' worth of exercise might imply (those clinging bike clothes give everything away, guys). It may be high energy activity, but the calorie intake has been enormous. I had to give up at the second stop for coffee and appelgebak met slagroom (apple pie & whipped cream to you and me). This was less than an hour after lunch. No doubt tonight's meal will not be an order for nine salads (ah yes, nine - we've lost another from the gang: Paul Lewis, who's had to skip off to Amsterdam early, by train this time).

So, not far to go to Amsterdam and we're all set. Can't wait.

This turns out to be rather uneventful. In fact incredibly smooth. The only sign we were in a moving vessel and not a hotel-with-no-windows was the slight quivering of the ship. Excited to be at sea again no doubt. This must have been a blessed relief for one of our party who clearly hates the crossings (this is his third trip). The ship was well run (Stena); the bikes well stowed and locked away. I was delighted to find that I hadn't missed anything vital from my tightly packed panniers.

Oh, and Rhys did sleep badly. He says it was the ship, not me. Actually through the night he gave plenty of evidence of sleeping soundly, so I don't know what he's complaining about.

Hearty breakfast (as in 'the prisoner ate...') and off we go. A an early stop for quick tweak from Chris Yanda to my bike, new batteries for Nigel (well, for his bike computer), a bumper pack of Ibuprofen for Nick Leach and we're off...

...before it heads out of range of on-shore GPRS coverage.

Well, I joined the gang as it hit Wivenhoe (near Colchester) and stopped for fish & chips. A bit odd really. Like a lone mongrel attempting to join a pack of feral dogs. I guess the cycling equivalent of sniffing the backside before letting me join - comparing gadgets on each bike. Adrian takes the prize on that one - GPS tracking, HD video, helmet-mounted VGA camera, solar panel on the bike to keep it all charged (not enough sun for that), alarm (as in car alarm). There's probably more I haven't spotted yet. I was enthralled to find my bike was not the only one sporting toe-clips.

Seven punctures on the trip to date, apparently. Chris Yanda takes a hit on the way to Harwich (which overall was a manageable ride & not too stressful, despite my coughing & spluttering along the way). Nigel Megitt shows me his bicycle pump, which has a pressure gauge - it's clear you would need a research background from Kingswood Warren to be able to operate it. I am afraid he's going to explode my tyre showing me how it could be inflated further.

A straggly ride to Harwich for eleven of us, with a fantastic sunset over the Essex countryside (yes, we do get them). Some have peeled off at Epping, and one will leave at Harwich to catch a train home, leaving just ten for the overnight. Poor old Rhys gets me for his cabin companion - I am praying I don't keep him up all night with my coughing and sneezing. (Actually so is he, but he's too polite to say so).

So the ferry is on the move. Time to hit send and head for the windowless cabin. I am warned that I will not mistake the wake-up call at 0500.
Oh goody.

Oh God, oh God, oh God. What a time to catch a cold. Months & months of no runny noses & on Sunday the first signs of a sore throat appear. A practice ride that morning (in sympathy with my hardier colleagues setting off that day from Cardiff) brings on the rain and wind, and by Sunday night I can't sleep for the small fire raging in my throat. I can't believe it. Monday at work is a washout - I am however determined to go, even if one of the panniers has to be filled with Lem-Sip & Strepsils.

The Sunday ride was out to Harwich. Where we all ride tomorrow. I just couldn't face the embarrassment of admitting I had never cycled my own patch. I dragged along a local friend for the trip - he has all the gear and a neat bike, but is even less practised than me. Outbound was fine, with a healthy average of 14 mph (that's good for me, I assure you). If we'd had the time, we could have stayed and watched some 7-8,000 bikers (the ones with engines) ride into town. Hence the big police presence & bouncy castles. It was nice to arrive to crowds lining the route - through we clearly didn't deserve any applause (and didn't get any!) Harwich is a nice place. In the sun I imagine it would be quite festive, although I doubt that Felixstowe Docks on the opposite bank was the view the Victorians had in mind when they built the railway and developed it as a holiday destination.

The return ride from Harwich was another matter. I think I am going to stop watching the BBC weather. In theory (their theory) Sunday was going to be the better day for a ride in East Anglia. Ha! Lots of showers & a nice little headwind. The average speed dropped significantly. If the bike computer had words instead of numbers it would probably have rated it as 'depressing'. I did however spot a giant puffball on the way back and snaffled it for the family tea, so it wasn't an entirely fruitless trip - choosing to set out with the full bags & pannier set did have an unexpected advantage.

I visited the bike shop for the last time on Saturday and failed in my quest to not limit my spending. I bought new front and rear lights on the pretext that I really don't want to get hit by anything in the dark, and some (cheap) pedals fitted with toe-clips. I am not going for the proper shoes & clips for this trip, despite the sales patter. It's too late in the day for such a change to the human-machine interface. The toe clips were bad enough - I spent the whole trip home from the shop trying to look adept at inserting my trainers into the clips without wobbling or falling off. I failed. (Looking down to see what's going on doesn't help). I had however cracked this (without realising it) on the trip to Harwich.

So, off to Harwich & then Hook of Holland tomorrow. Bike bags almost packed. 'Proper clothes' (the set that doesn't involve Lycra) packed into a van for Amsterdam. All being well, it and I will meet up in the right place on Thursday. I am not hopeful - the van wasn't where it should have been at the allotted time today, so my confidence is shaken on that one. If it doesn't go to plan, I will be chairing a session at the conference in black Lycra and (probably wet) tee-shirt. I bet you can't wait.

I now just need to fill the bike panniers with work reading, PC, power supplies, camera, iPod, batteries, cables, adapters, good luck charms, clogs (no, wait - that's on the way back). You get the gist. Next entry from on the way, common cold permitting.

I've done a bit of figuring and I've discovered that we may need to cycle at more than 280 kilometers per hour in order to stick to the schedule. I'm a bit worried about this.

Details at http://www.yandatime.com/archives/000535.html.

Last year, Tim Harness and Peter Ransom put together a short film of the ride. It's a bit long to show the whole thing, But, here, for the first time ever on this particular website, is a video of some of the out-takes.

Enjoy!