Angus Young 4/13/23 Angus Young 4/13/23

Dales Divide 23: my first time racing as a pair

The Dales Divide is a 600km MTB race that has quickly become the go-to season opener for UK bikepackers. This year, nearly 200 riders answered the call to push themselves to the limit, making it the largest gathering of its kind in UK history.

Last year's race was particularly memorable for me, as I not only brought home the win but also set a new FKT. It was an opportunity to put my gear and a new bike to the test for the upcoming HT550, but it came with a price: intense fatigue. So this year, I managed to convince my partner, Megan, to take on the event as a pair. It would be her first ultra, and while she is fast and trains hard, it would bring many new challenges.

The night before the race, we stayed in Arnside, and the weather was on our side, providing us with glorious sunshine on race day. The start was steady, and we took it easy until the first hike-a-bike section. After that, we encountered some bogs before returning to smooth gravel under the famous Ribblehead viaduct.

We quickly settled into a rhythm, and I took on the role of "gate bitch," making sure the chain was tight and our progress steady. The first 150km of the course had the most elevation, but we managed to power through it with ease. As evening approached, we prepared for the night ahead, donning our warmest layers and devouring a pizza in Boroughbridge.

The section from Boroughbridge to York was flat and fast, and we sped through the city centre, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling nightlife. It felt like an alien world, having only been out for 15 hours or so. We planned to ride for another hour or so and then make camp. So we bivvied down just after 1 am in a damp cow field. I took the opportunity to test some sleeping gear for the HT550. But as the temperature dropped, I found myself shivering and unable to sleep that well so had to put on some of the spare warm kit.

The 4 am alarm was a rude awakening, but we got going again and soon fell back into our familiar tempo through Driffield and over the Wolds. The coldest time of day, from 6-8 am, was upon us, so we tried to keep up the pace. We arrived in Scarborough at around 10 am, refuelled with a bacon sandwich, and continued on our way to the North York Moors.

The next 100km or so were a challenging slog, with steep, technical sections and plenty of bog-pushing. But catching sight of other racers gave us a much-needed morale boost. We stopped in Northallerton, deciding to push through the night on the second night. We got a kebab, went to the loo, and stocked up on snacks at the Tesco's before heading back into the Yorkshire Dales.

By 1 am, we were feeling the effects of sleep deprivation, so we set our sights on the Bothy just before Askrigg. We arrived to find a warm, dry place to rest for a few hours. Another 3-hour nap gave us the strength to tackle the final push. The grassy field section before Askrigg was a tough climb, but we made it just as the sun was rising. As we ascended the famous Cam High Road, the excitement of finishing the race began to set in. We pedalled on, switching to our granny gears and chatting away, enjoying the stunning views of the surrounding landscape. Surprisingly, the climb felt much easier than we anticipated, and we were left wondering if our lively conversation had served as a welcome distraction. After a final climb up past Newby Head, we were rewarded with a thrilling descent before the remaining hours of flat farmland and gates.

After 52 hours of intense cycling, we finally reached the finish line, surpassing our initial expectations. Throughout the race, Meg and I had a great time together, with very few low moments or disagreements. As we reflect on our experience, people are already asking what's next for us as a pair. While we haven't made any concrete plans, we are excited to see where our next adventure will take us.

Angus Young 6/7/22 Angus Young 6/7/22

Legs, Lungs and Lack of sleep: My experiences on the HT550

The Highland Trail 550 is often described as the jewel in the crown of British bikepacking and it was one of the first races to truly capture my imagination. In 2018 some friends and I tried to tour the middle loop, vastly underestimating the severity of the terrain we got as far as Poolewe before throwing in the towel. But since that rainy week in August I was determined that I would race the route. It took four years before I could make it to the startline in Tyndrum. When I finally did arrive many faces both familiar and new but all friendly welcomed me with open arms.

The journey to the start had had its ups and downs, training this year had been inconsistent with illness and injury. I finally hit some flow post Dales Divide with a five week block of 15-20 hour weeks, hitting some power PB’s to boot. Yet two weeks before the start I started to feel super burned out. Whether it was overtraining, work stress, lack of proper recovery from DD, long covid, illness or most likely a combination of factors. I simply had no energy, both in training and daily life often struggling to stay awake during the day. I made the call to reassess my goals and take two weeks completely off the bike and arrive at the start well rested, even if not in 100% shape.

From a kit and equipment point of view I felt as if I was well prepared. I was once again on my Mason RAW that had taken me to victory on the DD and the setup was near identical. I had made the addition of a hydration pack and some extra warm layers from dhb but other than that it was unchanged.

The rest helped a little but when the day came to travel up I was not feeling ready to go extended periods without sleeping and push my body to the limit. I told myself that my goal was clear: to finish. Anything else was a bonus however I find it hard not to get carried away and really stretch myself so If I were being truly honest it was “to finish but as fast as possible”

I slept like a log the night before and made my way to the unofficial race HQ of the Real Food Cafe for one last hearty meal before starting. Before long, we were sent on our way by some kind words from Annie and Liam, last year's winners. It’s easy to get sucked into the pace at the start and that's exactly what I did. I rode the first hour or so chatting with Simon who had come over to race from France. I noticed that he was carrying very little kit and not wearing socks. When he mentioned that he didn’t have a bivvy or tent with him I was shocked and had half a mind to tell him to go back and get one. I resisted the urge and told myself that he was an adult and can look after himself. All this chatting and we look down at our Garmins and realise that we have been cycling off route for the last 3km so double back and chase back on.

I feel like a prize idiot for going so far wrong early at the start and costing myself about 20 mins. I chase back to the front and slowly overtake people feeling the need to justify myself as to why I was behind them . Looking back at the Strava this section was my only KOM of the route. Whilst passing a group of riders on the road I pull up alongside Rich Rothwell and just about exchange a nod before BAM! I’m on the deck, I had clipped his handlebars, It was my fault I knew it. I got up quickly and went over to Rich, he didn’t look good, clutching his side and looking a bit dazed. I stayed with him for a few minutes without really knowing what to do other than making sure that he wouldn't come into any more danger. He sends me on my way and I feel a sinking feeling that I have just ruined this guy's race through carelessness. I found out later that he had scratched from the race. With all of the adrenaline I hadn’t really realised that I had actually cut up my knee and the right side of my body pretty badly.

My hand was also aching and I was struggling to hold the bars. Was this race over? I decided to press on and see how it went. So I pedalled on for the next 20 mins or so. It soon becomes apparent that my shifting is a little clunky and as soon as I move into the granny gear to go up a hill the chain drops. This means one thing: a bent hanger. Luckily I brought a spare so I get to work and after 20 mins replace it and get going again. By this point my head is full of demons. Nothing was going smoothly, I had already lost an hour and we were only 30km in, my body was already broken but worse I had caused another rider's race to end. I remind myself that I am in a lucky position to even be there and press on through the negative thoughts.

With my mind wandering I neglect the beauty of the landscape but the Ben Alder singletrack climb and descent snap me out of it and I genuinely start to appreciate my position. As I crest the bealach I'm greeted by Annie who tells me that I'm only 10 mins off the lead. All of a sudden I'm back and have the urge to push myself once more. I've ridden this next bit a few times and before I know it I'm cresting the Corrieyairack pass and rolling into Fort Augustus for my first resupply. I grab a basket and stock up as I know that its around 24 hours until I reach Drumbeg. I’m joined by Simon and Jean and we exchange pleasantries before heading off together Simon drifts away up the steep gravel climb to Loch na Stack but I find him there struggling through the boulder field. There is a faint line that is rideable if you are lucky and I stick to it and just about manage to clean the section with only a couple of 5m pushes. That was the last I saw of SImon as I decided to put the power down a little and establish a gap.

I love this next section as it's on the GBDURO route so I know it well. The Path of a Thousand Puddles lived up to its name and I cruised past Orrin dam before having to turn my lights on for the road section to Contin. One of my highlights of the night was coming down Allerdale and seeing a huge deer hit a 5m road gap ight in front of my face. For the first time in weeks I'm feeling good so I made the decision to press on through the night and make it to the Oykel bridge just after sunrise.

The relative warmth of the Drumbeg stores greenhouse

The next highlight of the route was Bealach Horn, the most Northerly point of the route. There was some savage hike-a-bike through a peat bog to make it up there and I underestimated it for sure. However I made it over without too much drama and rolled down to Achfary, the end of the first GPS section about an hour up on record pace. Knowing that I hadn’t slept whereas Neil had I didn’t think much of it. It was never a target of mine but I had used the splits as a guide to approximate leg times. This moment was significant as we had been experiencing a headwind for the whole northward journey and I was looking for some assistance on the way back south. From here I was expecting a nice easy road section to drumbeg stores yet I was disappointed by how hilly the road turned out to be. It was here that I started to notice that my cough was starting to get worse. Nonetheless, I arrived at Drumbeg stores and was greeted by the owners who filled me with hot tea and loaded my pockets with enough food to get me to Poolewe.

The next few hours I spent gearing myself up for the Ledmore traverse, a Hike-a-bike section that would complete the Northern loop. Soon Suilven looms and the traverse starts, the first few km are rideable in sections but soon it turns into a slog. That sort of terrain where you can ride 10m sections but you are probably better off just going on foot and keep moving forward. Progress is slow and isn’t helped by the rain which has been on and off for the past 24 hours now. When I arrive at the junction I see that I have lost about an hour over to Neil’s time in just this short section. A sign that either Im really tiring or the conditions were starting to take their toll, I had no idea as I didnt feel too bad. The answer soon came as the darkness fell and I began to see things, my mind was all over the place. The section to Ullapool should be fairly straightforward but my mind was ruined. I wasn’t feeling sleepy but I had lost my grip on reality. I didnt really know why I was cycling and felt like I had multiple voices in my head each with its own personality, it was pretty freaky. I had never felt like this before, especially after only one night without sleep. Nonetheless I was still pedalling and wasn’t too tired and made it to Ullapool where I found shelter from the rain under a bridge and set up my bivvy for a night's sleep.

The alarm was set for 2 hours but after 45 mins I woke myself up coughing and realised that my mat had a puncture so figured that it would be best just to get going again. The next section was the infamous crossing of Fisherfield, one of the most remote sections of the route. To warm up we had the Coffin Road a 9km stretch that on a fast day takes 1.5 hours but as I was crossing it in the dark and the ground was wet too me over three, things were starting to fall apart now, my front tyre lost traction in the muddy descent and I went over, covering myself in mud and snapping my Garmin mount. It took me a few minutes to get my spare one out and in doing so noticed that my tracker was busted, not sure when it happened but looking later I think it must have hit a rock or something during the hike-a-bike.

The crossing of Fisherfield itself was relatively straightforward, it was much more boggy than last time I rode it and the river crossing was up to my chest in places. I kept moving and made my way down to Poolewe via the long flowy singletrack descent. Here I refuelled and made use of the public facilities. From here I was into the unknown. The Tollie path was up ahead, I had heard that it wasn’t the best but it was by far the part of the route that I disliked the most, there were moments of joy in the odd slabby descent but mostly it was pushing your bike through a river bed, all in all I would say that it was less than fun. Eventually, however I made i to the road and into Kinlochlewe where I grabbed a quick drink and then pressed on up towards Torridon.

Now my mind was sharp and legs were good so I put some pressure on the pedals all the way up to the highpoint just off Torridon. The climb was sublime, it was flowy with the odd technical section but mostly rideable. Upon cresting the pass I was rewarded by one of the best descents that Scotland has to offer, the slabs seemed to give unlimited traction and I was having a blast. There were of course the odd section that I had to push down but I’d love to be back with a bike that's a little bit more set up for the steep chutes.

Torridon completed, I set my sights on making it to Dornie where I would get a couple of hours' kip. The road was smooth and I make good time through Strathcarron and up the hill, I was greeted by a nasty surprise that was Glen Ling. I was expecting a nice gravel track but instead only found a horrible overgrown boggy singletrack that at night I had to walk most of it. It's times like this that knowing the course would have really helped with my mental state as once again the voices in my head were back. It was odd as i didnt feel as if I was drifting off to sleep rather I was just insane. Additionally my lungs were so filled with gunk that I was struggling to maintain any sort of steady breathing. I do make it to Dornie eventually but must have lost a significant amount of time on what should have been an easy section. At Dornie I find a bus stop and get into my bivvy bag. I set my alarm for two hours but once again I woke up coughing after 90 mins. I pack my bags and start the push over towards Glen Affrick. This was one part of the route which I underestimated, whether it was due to my growing illness or just lack of energy but the hike-a-bike took a couple of hours longer than I had initially expected. On the way up I saw a set of Maxxis tyre tracks and assumed that Huw had passed me in the night. He too had no tracker so I wasn’t that surprised especially as all of my energy was gone. He must have been flying as I didnt even see his lights on the way up. He clearly had paced this way better than me. When I reached the bothy at the summit I saw that Lars’s bike was propped up against the side and he came out for a 5 min chat. He told me that he had got there three hours earlier, I spotted that he was running Maxxis as well and he didn’t see Huw pass. This made me think that I was in the lead again and gave me some good motivation so I enjoyed the descent through Glen Affrick even if the going was slower than what I would have hoped for.

The next two climbs before FA went quick and I was in a good mental state when I hit the Spar for a second time. Andy and Tay were staking out the shop hoping to get a glimpse of what was going on at the front. It was good to see them and with my pockets loaded with scotch pies and sandwiches I leave for Fort William. A few Km down the great Glen way I meet Pete who is recording an audio log of the race, he rides with me for 10 mins or so and we talk through what’s going through my mind. As far as sustainable and non-intrusive documenting goes it was up there with the best. After leaving Pete, I checked my phone for the first time in a while and saw that Huw had in fact passed through FA about an hour before me. I was a little bit taken aback by this. It made sense when I thought it through and just goes to show how much people go to respect the unsupported nature of the rides that they didn’t tell me. I love it.

Im now feeling motivated to push, so I stamp on the pedals to squeeze out some power. This was an unwise decision as over the next couple of hours my lungs fell apart. When I arrived in Fort William I was coughing more than not and unable to inhale deeply. Certainly suboptimal cycling performance. I take shelter from the rain under a bridge and think through my options and figured that I had best carry on.

I don’t really remember much from the section along the West Highland Way past the initial gravel climb. My mental state was in bits and I was struggling to get enough oxygen to hold a high enough tempo to clear any of the rocky sections which meant that I did a lot of walking. When I arrived at Kinlochleven I was a mess and found refuge in the Trailracers Inn. I order a meal (or three) and call up 111 as I'm starting to worry about my long term health. When describing the symptoms they say that it is very clearly Bronchitis and there is nothing I can do but rest. It's around 1900 now and I sit in the pub and contemplate my options. I'm so close to pulling the pin. On one hand I feel that I have had enough excuses and it's sensible, no one would argue but on the other, was I just being wet? I also had in the back of my mind that with no SPOT tracker I had no safety net and in the rain and cold didn’t want to be the mug who called out MRT. I have big plans for the summer and didn’t want to derail them so eventually, I decided to compromise. After a great degree of looking I found a B&B for the night. The plan was to get a full night’s sleep and then roll into Tyndrum at a relaxed pace to claim the finish.

So thats what happened, I slept for 12 hours or so and woke up at 8am to find the sheets covered in blood, whilst spooky at first it became clear that I had just had a colossal nose bleed and slept right through it. The rest had worked its magic and my lungs seemed to have been able to mostly clear themselves. The coughing was still there but less frequent and there was less gunk coming out. I leave the B&B around 10 and start the climb up to the Devils staircase, stopping periodically to try and stem the bleeding of my nose which had ruptured once again. It just seemed to keep on fishing blood so eventually I gave up and just got on with things. The final 40km or so pass quickly, its amazing how a full night's sleep can make everything better. There is one final sting in the tail but soon its over and I arrive in Tyndrum. I look later and my final time is 4 days 6 hours 13 mins.

At the time I didn’t really feel much of a sense of accomplishment. I wasn't convinced that I had achieved much by completing that last leg. My race ended in Kinlochleven and I was still down and kicking myself that I effectively pulled the plug there. I sat in the real food cafe for the rest of the afternoon and chatted with the rest of the riders as they came in and out. Huw had finished super fast and his time was only an hour off the FKT and in conditions that Alan had described as the worst he had ever seen, it's a ride he should be proud of. I clearly have a lot to learn from him. He tells me that in the days that come I will be glad that I finished and he was of course right. I'm glad that I got to the end. A finish of the HT550 is nothing to be sniffed at.

One thing is for sure now: I can’t wait till next year.

Angus Young 4/22/22 Angus Young 4/22/22

Dales Divide 22

What is the Dales Divide?

For the past couple of years I have been watching the Dales Divide grow from a small event with only a few entries to one of the most exciting races in the UK. The 605km route starts in Arneside just south of the Lakes and follows a mixture of gravel tracks, singletrack and roads to make its way to Scarborough and back via the Yorkshire Dales and North York Moors. The 2021 edition was a cracker to dotwatch and James Craven took a decent chunk of time off the record.

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My main goal for the weekend was to test out both my legs as well as some kit before the HT550 in 6 weeks time. I told myself that the result didn't really matter as long as I put together a clean race. Nonetheless, as the day grew closer the inevitable nerves grew and I found myself packing and repacking for the umpteenth time. It was due to be the first time that I was going to race on the Mason RAW and I was finetuning things. I had some new bags from Straightcut which fitted the bike like a dream and I began to pack them with all the usual stuff. See kitgrid below for a full breakdown. Whilst I wasn't planning on sleeping I still packed my OMM sleepsuit and bivvy. I also went fairly conservatively on tools and repairs, batteries and warm kit. The clothing I chose was all from dhb and pretty much the same as I used for GBDURO21 with key items being the Aeron Ultra jersey and shorts which are both super comfortable and have a million pockets to stow snacks. One new thing for me was that I was trialling using a bladder to store all of my water in the frame I had a 3L Camelback which I normally put around 2L of fluid in.

How the race happened

I managed to blag a last minute lift from Steve and Angela, the 5 hour journey passed in a flash of bike chat and I arrived at the pub where I was staying in good time. The inevitable nerves picked up again and I only really got about 3 hours sleep before it was time to make my way over to the start.

The atmosphere was buzzing and after a few choice words from some inspiring people we were off. I remember previous winner Alex Pilkington telling us to leave the racing till Scarborough. With this in my mind I set off at a reasonable tempo, settled into a pack and then slowly let the lead drift away. The first 50km or so were hilly but the terrain was fast and on the first extended climb of the day I caught sight of Chris up the hill and Harry not too far behind him. Before long, I passed Harry nursing his gravel bike through the babies heads and exchanged a few pleasantries. That was the last I saw of anyone for about 15 hours. After descending down to Ribblesdale and under the viaduct we quickly climbed again and I kept pressure on the pedals. I knew this part of the route better than the rest of it and I had a smile on my face as I remembered all of the good times from previous rides.

I kept tapping away until I made it to York 220km into the rote at around 1930. Here, I stopped for a quick meal deal and resupply of fluids. I remember being incredibly frustrated as I waited for what felt like an age for someone to approve the age restricted red bull from the auto checkout. Eventually I have to go find someone. When you are in full race mode these things can get to you when in reality when I look at my gps data I was only stopped for 7 mins.

From York darkness started to hit and the next section of the course was fairly flat and relatively uninteresting so I put some music on and settled into a rhythm and before I knew it I was through Driffield and approaching Scarborough. I look back and see a front light in the distance, I know it must be Harry and sure enough he approaches, his Aerohead and aero socks must have been working on the fast roads. We only ride together for a minute or two before he turns off to find a 24hr petrol station. I press on to Scarborough. Just on the outskirts I notice that my rear tyre is a bit bouncy and in need of some air, I must have been rolling on 10psi for some time as it had mostly been road for the past few hours and I can't think what I would have punctured on.

I had ensured that I had enough food when I left York to last at least 15-16 hours, this meant that I could forgo the kebab shops and petrol stations of Scarborough and pass straight through. This must have been when I passed Chris but I didn’t see him. Feeling strong and relatively awake I left town just before 0200 which meant that I was around 90 mins up on James’s time from last year. Thinking back to what Alex said, now was the time to start racing so I start to turn the screw a little bit and keep my heart rate up as I climbed onto the North York Moors.

This excitement only lasted a few hours and by 0500 I was feeling low, the mist was in and visibility was around 30m and there was a strong cross headwind that didn’t seem to let up. The paths were mostly very smooth but there was the odd section of bog. I quite like these parts and always seem to find that I make time on them. I checked the tracker for the first time since leaving Scarborough and saw the pursuivants were only 10 mins back or so. This gives me a boost of motivation and I once again wind it up.

Some of the riding across the Moors was the highlight of the route for me; miles of flowing technical single track separated by punchy climbs really let the RAW shine and I found myself more than once grinning ear to ear and pushing it on the descents. I had planned to stop at Northallerton 460km in but after making good time I still had plenty of food and water so I decided that I would push on another 25km or so to Catterick.

The Co-op at Catterick was good to me and I came out with three meal deals, some wine gums and a pack of pork pies. Eating on the move I began the steady climb up into the Dales. The visibility had improved and the sun was out. As a result of which, the landscape here felt much larger, the climbs were less punchy and longer than the rest of the route and I was able to turn up the pace by another notch, conscious that Chris was only half an hour behind or so. Before long I descended into Askrigg and then began the long climb up the Cam High Road, a dead straight roman road that gains 400m of elevation over 10km. Whilst on paper it doesn’t sound too hard however there were some serious ramps and the loose rocks made it challenging at times. From the summit I knew that I had one more serious climb before “it was all downhill”. It was one that I had done three times before as It was on the GBDURO route as well. One last push and I was at the summit. From here I knew that it was my race to lose so I kept it easy and tried to ride conservatively.

Long story short the last 50km were not all downhill there were a few nasty pinches in there but I made good time and rolled onto the pier at Arneside at 1943 to give me a total time of 35 hours and 43 minutes taking just over 4 hours off James’s time. The finish was as ever an anticlimax, with no one there waiting for me I sat on a bench and started to let everything sink in. Just over an hour later Chris arrived. We shared stories for a bit before heading our separate ways in search of food and a bed.

The subsequent day was spent sitting in the sun on the pier whilst eating ice cream and welcoming the riders in as they arrived. I had one more day of recovery before I was then back in the classroom teaching.

A couple of reflections:

The control and comfort of an MTB is well worth the reduced rolling speed on a course like this. The dropper also makes it fun.
In future I would pack a little lighter, I didn’t need any sleeping kit and could have got away with less clothing, battery packs and food but it was good prep for HT550
I had mixed feelings about the bladder in the framepack, It was convenient and had a good capacity but it was hard to regulate how much I had drunk. Never knowing if that sip is going to be your last can be quite mentally taxing. I might try something else for HT550.
Don’t put cans of RedBull in your frame bag as they will explode everywhere.
Minimising stopped time by carrying 12 hours of food is more than manageable.
Not setting off super fast can be an effective strategy to win the race.