At the time of conception the idea seemed perfectly feasible and relatively sane – to cycle from Whitehaven on the west coast (the Irish Sea) to Whitley Bay on the east coast (the North Sea), a distance of approximately 160 miles in three days. Broadly speaking, the first day would take in the Lake District, the second would see off the Pennines and the third the North York’s Moors/Northumberland. Game on. Ah, but doesn’t that go over some hilly ground? Beer has soooo much to answer for.

As way of a backgrounder, the C2C can fairly claim to be the most popular and widely known long distance cycle route in the UK. It is to cycling what the Pennine Way is to walking. The route uses a mix of cycle paths, off-road tracks and minor roads together with several optional sections where rougher (and steeper) terrain can be encountered. Brilliantly ‘way marked’ along its length, the C2C can be completed by the whole gamut of cyclists – tourers, mtb’ers and racers – with just one caveat…you gotta be fit and you must travel light. Here are some stats from a recent survey which you may find of interest:

– 69% of competitors were travelling west to east to take account of the prevailing wind.
– The average age of competitors was 38.
– 85% were male.
– The average amount of cycling on each day was just shy of seven hours.
– The majority were regular, experienced cyclists but 25% were occasional cyclists including a few who were completely new to the sport.
– The youngest ever competitor was a four year old boy who pedalled a ‘tagalong’ bike attached to his dad’s cycle. It was completed as a fund raising effort as the little boy’s mother had recently died from cancer.
– The quickest ever recorded time is sub-12 hours which represents an average of around 12 miles per hour. Taking into account the terrain and gradients, this is a phenomenal performance and way, way beyond the ability of mere mortals.
– The central hills are used by international cyclists as training for ‘the European circuit’ as the gradients and lengths of climb are greater than many of those experienced in the mountain sections of the Tour de France. Ouch, now they tell me!

The C2C undoubtedly takes in fantastic scenery. The mountains of the Lake District yield to a subtler but equally beautiful Eden Valley, around Penrith. Stiff climbs onto the rolling and bleak Pennines provides a further contrast before the gentle descent into the industrial heartland that was Newcastle.

So, 11.00am Tuesday morning saw Stu Hart (brand new Chris Boardman Comp Pro), Mark Taylor (classic Mark 1 Specialised S-Works) and myself (ratty-shitter of an e-bay purchased Stumpjumper that the other guys were running a book on as to when it would break down or snap in half!) ceremoniously ‘dipping the wheels’ in the Irish Sea, having the obligatory picture taken under the C2C sculpture and off we go through the town of Whitehaven. For those of you familiar with Channel 4’s ‘Shameless’ I’m sure we cycled through the ‘Chatsworth Estate’ (thank heavens the McGuire family were still in bed!) and all the directional signs had been swivelled rounds and all the paths kindly littered with broken glass. Nonetheless, we made it through unscathed and the true mountains of the Lake District are soon in sight and up into the the hills of Kirkland and Murton Fell we cycle before dropping down to Loweswater for a couple of medicinal pints at the Kirkstyle Inn. We’d only completed 17 or 18 miles but signs of weariness were already evident and knowing what lay ahead of us in the steep but spectacular climb over the Whinlatter Pass made it even more difficult (than usual) to drag ourselves out of the pub!

Whinlatter Pass at almost 1300 ft did prove as arduous as we had anticipated but the descent through the forest was truly fantastic and I went just about as fast as I want to go on a bike with the disc brakes zinging, pinging and smoking every time they were brought into play. After this twisting off-road descent the quaint villages of Braithwaite and Portinscale were accompanied by relatively easy pedalling on quiet minor roads into the tourist town of Keswick. Relatively easy, yes, but with Skiddaw to the left and Blencathra up ahead we all knew we were in for some…er…treats.

With 32 miles down and about another 20 to go it became apparent that Stu was starting to suffer and was getting left behind on anything but the flattest of ground. Uh oh. He was not a happy man. I am told the technical cycling term for this is ‘bonking’ and my, was he doing it with some gusto! To his credit he dug in and ground out the last few miles until we reached our first watering hole, The Herdwick Inn at Pennruddock, at about 7.00pm. Great home cooked food and real ale was the order of the day and bed by…9.15pm! Some boys’ trip this was turning out to be.

The second day saw an early start in the usual heavy Lake District rain (well, it’d have been rude for it not to) but at least it started with some leisurely tracks through thick woods, crossing and re-crossing the River Greta and the gated roads around Mungriside and Greystoke provided some tremendous views of the surrounding peaks. Stu seemed more than recovered and even took the lead on sever…er…one occasion. The first ten miles took us into Penrith before the steep stuff started to kick in on the long climb up Beacon Edge. Somewhat worryingly this signals the start of of a 16 mile climb to the spectacular viewpoint of the 1800 ft Hartside. Throw in the ‘extreme’ off road option that we’d already decided we were going to have a crack at and it was stoic silence all round. Hartside proved to be painful but at least much of the terrain, proving to be too steep and too boggy to ride, provided the opportunity to get our breath back by having to push the bikes as opposed to cycle them. Hartside Top Cafe, which lays claim to be England’s highest cafe at 1904 ft, was a veritable oasis for us and the dozen or so motorcyclists that had congregated and for those of you in the know, the supermotads (KTMs, CCMs and a Honda CRF) had spanked all manner of R’s, Gixers and Blades on the way up. I wouldn’t have fancied my chances on those corners in summer let alone on a wet and wild April morning. Surprisingly, the mist seemed to clear whilst we were tucking in to pie and chips and the Northern Pennines as ‘England’s last real wilderness’ became apparent to all. Though lacking the alpine quality of the lakes, the sombre, desolate, wide open spaces present, if anything, a more powerful landscape where the great northern rivers of the Tyne, Tees, Wear and Derwent all rise from.

The descent from Hartside was a laugh but we were now wise enough to know that for every descent there was always a b*gger of an ascent and this was to be no different as we knew the highest point of the whole journey, Black Hill was looming imminently ahead of us. At exactly 1998 ft you at least know your head’s above the magical 2000 ft mark…and before anyone says it, yes, the guys did give me a bunk up so I could claim the same! If anything the scenery now becomes wilder and grander and continues to be pockmarked by the (somewhat depressing) remains of former mines and mining activity. A quick pint in the obviously in-bred community of Allenheads made us thankful we were actually stopping in relative civilisation, at The Rookhope Inn, Rookhope. And after the previous early night it was bound to be a booze-fuelled late one…yep, this time we were in the land of nod at 9.30pm.

However, whilst Stu and I slept like the proverbial log, not so Mark who started to come down with something during the night and from 2.00am took up permanent residence on the pan. By 7.30am, when we got up, it is fair to say he was a shadow of the man he used to be – exhausted and dehydrated…and those were the good points. Northern humour did little to raise his spirits as the landlady apologised for not having any medication to help him and explained that she didn’t ‘do sympathy’ on Thursdays! Ouch.

The good news was that according to our guide book assured us that after Rookhope we could be secure in the knowledge that we had conquered the mountainous sections of the route and we should look forward to some easy downhill cruising to our final destination of Whitley Bay. Liars! The hills out of Stanhope (were we detoured for the nearest chemist) were as difficult as any we had encountered. Thankfully these hills led onto the Waskerley Way which proved to be an excellent, easy-going and largely well-surfaced dedicated cycle trail that carries us into the North Eastern town of Consett. Mark felt secure in the cork that the chemist had administered and he fairly sped along, averaging something like 15 mph at times on this track. Consett itself is a funny old place and appears to represent the two extremes of society – at one level there were whole families selling off their possessions in a sad and depressing town centre market opposite bijou bistros selling toasted paninis for six-quid and three pound tall-skinny lattes to ‘ladies who lunch’. Not a nice place we all agreed and we were glad to be leaving it behind.

Consett to the Tyne takes in much of the lovely Derwent Walk Path, based on the line of the 19th century Derwent Valley Railway. It crosses spectacular industrial revolution viaducts such as Pontburn, Fogoesburn and Nine Arches and it tickled us that all were adorned with “Need to talk to someone? Call the Samaritans on…..” signs. In truth, not a great deal happens on this bit of the route and by now we were all well and truly jiggered and just looking forward to finishing.

Newcastle upon Tyne, most famous for heavy industry and coal (and of course, The Likely Lads) was previously the largest ship building and repair centres in the world and entering it on the Walker Riverside is still a highly impressive spectacle. Also famous for bridges, most notably the Gateshead Millennium Bridge, the world’s only tilting bridge, allowing shipping to pass underneath and apparently highlighted by a stunning high-tech show in the evening. Not that we could be fussed about any of that. Our only thought at this point in time was to getting through the final 14 miles, getting off the damn cycles and calling it a day! And so we did soon enough, arriving at Tynemouth Pier at 6.00pm, dipping our wheels in the North Sea and heading off for a well-earned night of the weather-beaten tiles of Whitley Bay. Now there’s a place which makes Morecambe look up-market, Whitley Bay. When you can’t afford a week in Fleetwood there’s always Whitley Bay. Sh*t, showered and shaved, we hit the town at 7.00pm and the police had already closed down some pubs for fighting! Mind you, at £1.50 per pint or £2 for a double vodka and red-bull what do you expect? Mind you we had a top-ol-time and it rounded the adventure off to a tee!

In summary then, what did we make of the adventure? Excellent, excellent fun but way tougher than we had initially expected as the hills of the Lake District and Northern Pennines do go on for ever…and ever. But if you do get the chance to have a crack at it we would all urge you to do so and there’s a real sense of achievement to be had. And if you’re that stup…keen have a nosey at www.c2c-guide.co.uk and everything you need to know is there. Go on, you know you want to and…don’t worry…it’s OK, it’s all downhill from here! Ta, Carl.

PS It can’t have been that bad as Stu managed to run a 1.43 in the Stratford half marathon yesterday and good on him.