The Pendle 600: Sophia's Grueling Audax Adventure

This was my self-redemption arc from not getting around APN in the time limit - getting around the Pendle 600, which could be considered a more challenging ride.

10,000m of climbing in 40 hours, including Hardknott and Wrynose, with a brutal headwind for most of the ride, reaffirmed that I am a badass and hardcore rider.

It should have been 616km, but I missed the first 11km because I forgot to press start. I had no sleep, just Red Bull and a can-do attitude.

I set off from Clitheroe in the drizzle after having ridden from Blackburn Premier Inn (so technically, I did do an extra 17k), but the rain soon cleared, and I was riding along the road to Pateley Bridge, contemplating putting on suncream.

I had done that road before on APN, but I couldn't remember it at all; as far as I could recall, I left Pateley Bridge and then teleported to Grassington- so it was good to see what I missed.

Corless was waiting outside Stump Cross Caverns to stamp our cards, so I took the advice of Pendle 600 veterans and pressed on to Ripon Greggs rather than stopping in Pateley Bridge, which was too early. I was still smarting from my APN mistakes and had resolved to make sure to absolutely pig out on this ride.

So, I had a pasty and two buns at Greggs and got a vegan sausage roll for my back pocket. We had a cracking tailwind, which I knew we'd pay for later.

Next, it was over to the North York Moors, a place I view with apprehension because I don't know it so well and I don't like steep descents, but aside from one or two (like Rosedale Chimney which I walked down), it was all tough but rideable, and an enjoyable section of the route.

At Robin Hood Bay, I got a can of pop because I didn't want to wait for food to come, scrounged chips from all the other Audaxers, and then pressed on to try and make Stokesley in good time.

The headwind was certainly rearing its ugly head, but I was pleased to note by Stokesley my average speed had only dropped to 20.9kph, and I was on track time-wise.

Having yet to learn what to expect with the Moors, I had earmarked a pizza place, which I often do pre-ride. However on most Audaxes, in the heat of the moment, I often decide to save time by just going somewhere like the Co-op.

Still, this time, I resolved to be steadfast with my plan, and I got myself a big pizza. I was planning to have half and take half with me, but I ended up only leaving 2 slices to take for later.

I left at 8, and it was 60k to Barnard Castle, where the petrol station closed at 11 pm. I knew it would be a faff having to go into the town and find somewhere else to get a receipt, so I time-trialled myself into the wind all the way there, along the way, meeting a rider I had met earlier in the day who told me of his plans to DNF and got the train back home from Darlo.

I'll always encourage people to stop if they feel in their heart it's the right thing to do; we do these things because we love it and it's massive amounts of fun; if you're not having fun anymore and there are places you'd rather be, there's no shame in admitting that there are many facets to your self-image other than the one that rides bikes crazy distances. (I'm speaking about others here, obviously; if my very being was a vase, every shard of glass would have the glimmer of cycling locked within. I respect that others are well-rounded individuals more than myself).

I made it to Barny Co-op in time to grab my receipt, then togged up for the cold night and pressed on. Around Eggleston, I started getting pretty sleepy.

As I had tried to slim down my kit this time, I only had an "emergency bivvy" and I didn't feel like I'd be warm enough sleeping out on the moors. I slogged forward, thinking I'd get down to Stanhope and see if the Durham Dales Centre toilets were open.

At the bottom of Unthank Bank, I met a man who had run out of water. I told him to follow me so I could show him where the toilets were, but they were shut.

At this point, either the excitement of my favourite hill, Crawleyside, had kicked in, or the Red Bull had because I was no longer sleepy, and I enjoyed both Crawleyside and the route over to Blanchland immensely.

It's a bit sad that I do all these awesome events that go to cool places, but I always get most excited about the North Pennines—my local stomping ground.

At Blanchland, I showed the rider from before where the toilets were. Hurrah! They were open for water. I briefly contemplated getting a bit of kip in there as they were clean, warm, and dry, but I was nervous that the headwind had sapped so much time that I didn't have kip allowance. So, I pressed on to Hexham, and I was absolutely flying, just like the Skittles that fell out of my pocket on the descent to Slaley.

At Hexham, as I suspected, I didn't fancy braving the local culture in the pizza shop, so I got a receipt. Some chav guy (oh, sorry, lovely Hexham local) came over to ask if I could ride over to the hospital because his mate had had a seizure (I guess that's another name for a drug overdose?). I was like, well, obviously not, I'm on an Audax with a time limit.

One thing about this route—I do think the reason it's so feared and especially hard is that the "overnight control" is at 400k/7000-ish m of climbing, at which point you're past the point where you'd want to sleep. Hexham @ 330k would have been the ideal stopping point on this kind of route for most riders. And, true to suspicion, the Hexham-Alston section was where I got the sleepiest.

I read somewhere that our bodies are naturally preprogrammed to send us to sleep at dusk or dawn, so if you disrupt the circadian rhythm by staying up all night, the "night shift" one kicks in and makes you sleepy at dawn instead 😴 Eventually at the big tall pillar thing I gave in and got in my emergency bivvy, set my alarm for 20mins but woke up after 10 when I got cold.

Then I shivered my way down to Whitfield and warmed back up on the Alston Moor climb, but got dozy once I'd warmed up again, so I had to have a five-minute sit down to get cold again to wake me up. Go figure.

Then, Alston Petrol Station appeared on the horizon. Forever my haven, my saviour, the shining beacon of hope in the darkness of eternal hellfire. The invisible hug from the coffee gods. The fruitcake stop for #1 fruitcakes (aka Audaxers). I had a double espresso and a banana and returned to human form from night Audax mode, then pressed on up the more tedious side of Hartside, where the headwind did its best to stop me from getting up and over.

Still, I prevailed and, like all points north, had one of the best highlights of the ride on the Hartside descent with some quality tunes blaring. I reached Langwathby control at about half past 8, which was a relief. I had breakfast, cleaned my teeth, and charged (I can't wait to get my dynamo built) before pressing on at 9 am.

I had too much breakfast, arguably because I felt sick and had to stop for a bit to give my stomach a chance to digest. I was really flagging now, so I stopped in Braithwaite to have a coffee nap.

I downed my flat white and then lay down at the bus stop for 10 mins, except I was awoken by some elderly hikers who needed to know the bus times and were very bemused by me explaining to them how to have a coffee nap and what I was doing. I did feel better afterwards, although I regretted forgetting to change my shorts at the control, even though I had put a spare pair in my drop bag.

It wasn't critical; I was more concerned about timings and how to ensure that I stayed alert and awake without sleep to make sure I made good time and returned on time.

So, at this point, I had 10 hours to do 160k, and I figured if I worked off 50k every 3 hours, including stops, plus an hour for the 10k, which included double trouble Hartside and Wrynose, I'd be set. I had decided on a new tactic for this ride: if I could spin up the climb, I'd ride it (which is up to 20-ish% with my gearing), and if I had to stand up, I'd push.

I usually take the piss out of anyone that pushes up a steep climb; if you've been affected by my hill-related bullying, feel free to call the Samaritans, but today, I wasn't too proud to push. So, I walked basically half of Hardknott, which I had anticipated, and all the descent (I've never been brave enough to attempt the descent even though I have ridden the whole climb on the Fred), then all of Wrynose except for one section where a car spooked me, and about half the descent.

How the hell did I ever try to do these two devils on a loaded touring bike? I'll never know; I was young and had too much energy pre-Audax!! This took precious time; however, it was longer than I had factored in, so I figured I would not stop again except for one "useful" stop at the last Control at Carnforth services.

There, it started to chuck it down, so I put on my waterproofs, got a coffee, another big Red Bull, some sweeties, and a big sandwich, and was out and done in 10 minutes or so. Some other riders arrived while I was there and asked me if I had a time I was hoping to be back by. I was like, well, in the time limit, obviously, I want my bloody 6 points. (I don't think they cared about Audax points).

I was glad I had put on my heavy-over trousers, as the rain was coming down heavily, and it wasn't warm either. I was feeling strong, well-fuelled, and alert, and the only things standing in my way were the impending sunset, poor surfaces, and roads unknown to me. These slow me down as a generally cautious individual, as I like to know what's around the next corner.

After Quernmore and the big climb through there, I noticed that my bottle cage was loose and my bottle was rattling around, but after 30 seconds of trying to tighten it, I figured I didn't have time to faff, and if it fell off, it fell off. I also didn't have time for a wee either. I got over the Trough at sunset, but there wasn't much to see in the way of an actual sunset. It was too misty and drizzly, but the descent through the valley landscape was still awesome.

I'll always encourage people to stop if they feel in their heart it's the right thing to do; we do these things because we love it and it's massive amounts of fun.

At Dunsop, it was bang on 10 pm, and 16.6k and 160m of climbing were to go. One big climb I later learned was called the Jubilee Tower, or was it up to a tower I didn't see? I was pushing on, my shifter wasn't working because it was raining, and I had to take my glasses off because it was too misty. Still, I was getting rain in my eyes and couldn't see very well; I was descending faster than I normally would allow myself to on flooded wet lanes in the dark, but I could taste my arrival, and I had to step out of my comfort zone.

I swung onto the bridge at Clitheroe with 20 minutes to go and knew I was going to make it, although I forgot about the roadworks on the main street and cursed as I hit a raised manhole cover and almost came off! I sprinted up the steps to the hall with my bike on my shoulder, abandoned it outside, and collapsed through the door, waving my Brevet card! I'm here!!!

A fantastic route overall, special shout out to my favourite "new" climb out of the whole route, Cold Fell, which was spectacular in both gradient and gorgeous landscape. The wind was a killer, but the alleged most brutal 600 on the calendar should leave you feeling a little battered, shouldn't it?

My hotel in Clitheroe was also absolutely awesome; if anyone needs accommodation there for any of Corless's rides, I 100% recommend it - Spinning Block at Holmes Mill.

Sophias shiny new Sonder Sedona ready to ride on future adventures.

Looking forward to the TOBG 600 next weekend; perhaps that one will be a little more social.