Fred Whitton May 8th 2011

This was a glass half full kind of day. The weather was bloody awful at the start. As we arrived the heavens opened and it lashed it down. We sat in the car for a while silently listening to the rain thundering on the roof contemplating what lay ahead. I think Arthur wanted to go home in fact I don't think Arthur really wanted to set off. He'd had the forecast from the met office, officially shit all day (no cloud symbols just a big turd). We forced ourselves to get out of the car and made a dash for registration, surly this was just a shower.

On our return the rain had started to ease and we got changed secretly hoping some official would formally cancel the whole thing. It was a long shot so cape on and a mad ride down a muddy field to the start. Ten minutes in, at the top of the first climb the cape came off again. I don't remember it being too bad at this point over Kirkstone pass and onwards towards Honister. It was raining but light enough not to be unpleasant.

On the top of Honister it got nasty, hail, heavy rain and lashing wind. We caped up and headed for the feed station five miles down the road. This was grim going, If there'd been an exit opportunity I'd have taken it. At the food station everyone was diving for cover, sheltering where they could. Even the butties, cake and flapjacks couldn't lift the assembled fugitives.

It was pretty miserable until 1.00pm, then amazingly the sky cleared and the sun emerged. The met office had it bang on. Arthur was vindicated and we could now concentrate on our date with destiny (Hardknot pass).

It appeared from out of nowhere and even from a distance you can see the slow procession of riders flagellating themselves up its impossible gradients. Mike was psyching himself up, shouting encouragement to himself. Arthur once more facing his nemesis looked resolute, focused, possessed. This was his moment, his one shot. The climb was dry, the sun was out. I faced my demons at the cattle grid and didn’t look back. Arthur was chopped down by some idiot swerving all over the road. If you can’t do it get off! Don’t make it hard for everyone else. Mike also didn’t make it and was one of the many casualties that would be humbled on these harsh slopes today.

From the top of hardknot you could almost smell the cheese and onion pasties at the finish, only Wynose and a short sprint. As we sat there scoffing our well deserved post race meal Arthur was already talking of his return. Hardknot pass will be waiting.

SR