The Resurrection [of the blog... and some training]

May 2013 seems like a long time ago..... I have had good intentions since then with draft blog entries on Mongolia (July 2013), cycling (Paris, Amsterdam, Alpes, Pyrenees), riding out for the Household Cavalry Mounted Regiment, a road trip round France, my first ever Olympic Distance tri (Hyde Park), becoming a Godmother (twice) and some back-country skiing to break up the winter drudge. Add to this a few issues with my back, intensive pilates and sports massage and working far too hard, the training has, if I'm honest, been a bit of a challenge.


Last year saw a break from triathlon with the focus on cycling and the Raid Pyrenees (720km and 12000m ascent in under 100 hours from Med to Atlantic coastlines). I was a little scared putting my wetsuit on for the first time two weeks ago as I thought either a.) I wouldn't fit into it or b.) it would disintegrate. In fact, it was fine, aside from having to cut a bit off one of the legs, but I figured that wasn't an integral part to it.


So why get back into the open water I hear you say?


Some of the Raid Pyrenees crew came up with a hair-brained idea to do a half-ironman this year. I was heard, in true Steve-Redgrave style, announcing my retirement from any more ironman competition and refusing to run any further than 10km at the time. This was probably after I'd broken down in tears at the top of the Col de l'Aubisque having been chased by an angry French hotelier and only done 40km of uphill in circa 4 hours with 120km still to go. Sense of humour failure (the second of the trip). Tick.


However, the seed had been planted. Ali, Smithy and Sam had entered the main ballot for Wimbleball and been given places. And then tragedy struck. Wham. Early December and one of the lads from University - probably the most outgoing, driven and adventurous of our uni crowd - very tragically committed suicide. He'd been with all his friends the previous weekend and, despite recovering from knee surgery, had also mooted having a go at the half-ironman.


A bit more about Vijay here: http://inmemoryofvijay.org/ in particular here: http://inmemoryofvijay.org/post/104746036554/example-check-out-from-about-minute-50-to-see


So what better excuse to come out of Ironman retirement, or half-ironman [I mean, lets be sensible, I definitely don't need to do a full one again] and take on probably one of the more challenging courses down in Exmoor at Wimbleball? Some have branded it 'the world's toughest half-ironman'. Good. I'm more into the 'spectacular scenery' than the 'challenging bike course' (1400m ascent with a tight cut off time).


Either way, it's going to be a great weekend away with a big group of us. Profiles of our fellow competitors to follow and no doubt plenty of entertaining stories from both training efforts and antics on the day. At the end of all this misery, drudgery and pain, most of us are simply trying to raise money for Charity: Vijay's Dad is setting up a fund in his memory. Details to follow but hopefully you'll all agree it's a worthy cause.

Dolomites - May 2013

This is the start of a pretty epic catch up on my blog-writing, starting with a trip back at the end of May 2013 and the commencement of the TGS cycling season. Having absolutely loved the eastern Dolomites last year (see July 2012 blog entries) the decision was made to return to Italy but head west to Bormio. With a resident population of 4,200, Bormio is a major ski-station during the winter nestled in the Lombardy region amongst the Alps of northern Italy. This meant big, long climbs and less of the dramatic, sheer faces of the Dolomites but plenty of equally stunning scenery.

TGS kit was out in force thanks to our kit secretary WJD insisting on formal-wear for the first day. From L-R JK, Williams, Em, Flynn, Gibson, Me & WJD, outside Hotel Genzianella. Most of the time kit was hidden amongst layers of clothing as spring weather struggled to shift the wintry conditions out of the way.

The girls: Chrisie, Em & I.

The warm up (Passo di Cacano I think... this is the problem with writing the blog 6 months late...): 

WJD and I at the top of Cancano:

Superb view looking back over the Cancano switchbacks:

Day 2 - Motirolo and Gavia

Late May is always a little early to be hitting the high passes, of which we were going to be attempting three over the next five days (Gavia, Livigno & Stelvio), and our first big day of the trip fell foul to the lack of any spring conditions having been present in the previous weeks. It made the scenery more dramatic as we were surrounded by snow-capped mountains. 

The first big day we took on the Mortirolo. Anything with 'death' in the name isn't going to be enjoyable and this was easily one of the most challenging climbs I've ever done. Every time you turned a corner the road seemed to get steeper and it didn't let up until you got to 1km from the top. This demonstrates what the climb involved: an average gradient of 10.5%. Savage. 

Relieved to reach the top. The lack of photos from the climb is testament to the amount of effort required - I didn't have the chance to take my hands off the handlebars for a photo!

We enjoyed the descent down into Monno and then started the gentle climb up to the base of the Gavia and the village of Ponte di Legno at which point we were on the home straight to Bormio with the small issue of the Gavia standing in our way. Another challenging climb, albeit a lower average gradient than the Mortirolo (not difficult) and then a quick descent down into Bormio. That was, until we met Sam Brown and Paddy coming back down the climb having hit 3ft+ snow drifts circa 2km from the top. Had I made it that far I might have insisted we carry our bikes through the snow when we were so close to home but I was assured it was freezing at the summit and the snow was quite simply too deep even to walk through - especially in cleats.

Whilst I don't like to admit to having to get a lift home, I'm afraid to say that this is what we resorted to, mainly because the boys had cooked themselves on the Gavia. Saying that, I'm not sure how keen I would have been for the Mortirolo again or the 35km's back up the valley into Bormio. The hotel came to its own at this point having phoned them to ask for taxi numbers they sent out two vans and a serious bike trailer to collect us for what was a 3 hour round trip. We hit the pub in the interim.

Not wanting to be outdone by the Gavia we decided to do a gentle out and back up the north side the following day. Here the late starters catch me up as I nearly fall over (as do they) trying to get my camera out.

Chrisie heading through one of the lighter tunnels.

Getting as far as we could. I full appreciated the decision our advance-party had made the day before at this stage. I'm looking surprisingly happy given how freezing cold it was up there.

Could have gone with some ski poles and a hat at this point. All the layers went on. 

Williams on the hoods proving why he doesn't go very fast downhill. That said, there were some big wide open straights as we approached Bormio and we topped out at just over 70kph at one point with me following in his wake.

JK looking very pro. 

Back in the bike room where there was plenty of bike porn. 

Below is the view from the front garden of our Hotel, 'Genzianella' http://www.genzianella.com. I cannot recommend this place highly enough for a cycling holiday. We were treated like Kings and Queens, fed to full at every meal and the service was excellent (and beautiful - the boys were all very prompt for supper as a result). They washed your kit every night and the sauna provided some much need muscle-soothing. They even gave us a pair of cycling socks to remember them by.

Final big penultimate day on our way to Tirano and then Livigno via Switzerland. Probably my favourite shot of the holiday:

Into Switzerland (without any requirement for a passport check, which was lucky, because we'd all forgotten them), cycling along next to the train track which caused issues for Em shortly after this shot was taken. Our only fall of the trip but luckily no injuries or damage as a result.

Stunning views across the Lago di Poschiavo and then on up to the Passo del Bellina, at which point we turned right, dropped down along a wide flat valley and then on up the final brutal climb to Passo del Livigno.

 

The final climb up to Passo del Livigno hit 14% at one point and at the end of 35km's of uphill it was long and draining. I was glad of JK and Em's company by now, steadily plugging away with them to the top. Our progress was halted at various points as we kept getting flagged down by various Germans on bikes and Dutch in their camper vans telling us there had been an avalanche and that the road was impassable. This was slightly concerning as all the others were ahead of us - only Flynn was still to come. We ploughed on to reach the summit of the Passo, only to jump back on the bikes expecting to descend and immediately see the others parked up for what had to be the best bowl of spaghetti carbonara we'd had all holiday. At this point we realised we'd lost Chris 'what avalanche' Beard. In an attempt to get ahead of the crowd he hadn't bothered to stop at the top of the pass (lunch is for wimps right?! Pah), so had continued straight down the descent. He was seriously lucky by the sounds of things because the others weren't far behind and had to turn back due to about 50m of road being covered in large piles of snow.

Looking back down the climb up to Livigno:

At the top of the Passo di Livigno and very happy to have made it:

After the disappointment of the Gavia, we were now faced with another pretty serious logistical issue. Luckily our resident mountain goat, Roly 'the 'tache' Chuter, was straight out and down the road to make enquiries as to how long it was going to take to clear. He came back looking concerned. "It could take 2 to 3 hours to clear I reckon, I'm not sure we're getting through this afternoon". This wasn't what we wanted to hear. It was a long descent back to Tirano and, again, the slog back to Bormio was not one any of us was going to relish. At this point Flynn finally turned up - he'd dogged out the climb at his usual steady pace and needed food, so we had another 20-30 minutes camped out in the restaurant. There was a train from Tirano to Bormio if all else failed, but we didn't want two failed round trips this holiday. Luckily Roly was superbly wrong with his guestimate and as Flynn devoured the last mouthfuls of his spaghetti there was much activity in the restaurant as the information filtered through that the avalanche had been cleared. 

We enjoyed the descent after picking our way through the snowy avalanche remains. I had to stop to take pictures of these palominos. Too small for Haflingers I think, but maybe they are a smaller Alpine variety?

Back at the ranch warming down, stretching and drinking beer in the gardens of the Genzianella. 

The final fling. The last morning we decided to make a final ascent of the Stelvio, probably one of the most famous Passo's in the area. We'd been unable to do the whole loop due to a race that weekend, but we enjoyed the switch backs on the way up and back down the south side. 

The Passo dello Stelvio with a very enjoyable hot chocolate at the top.

 

A superb photo of Em, courtesy of JK, on her way back down the south side. 

Switch backs on the south side. If you look closely you can see Roly, Beard and Gibson on their way down. 

Enjoying the view and the photo opportunity.

Stunning views on the way back down the valley to Bormio - sunshine on a church in the distance.

And then back on the bus to Verona airport where the obligatory weigh-in took place. What with pizza, beer and perhaps not enough pedalling, most of us had put on weight. Bring on the Raid in 2014....

Spring - where ARE you?

It's the end of March. It's almost Easter. And the temperature outside is 1C. My cycle in this morning was miserable. In fact cycling pretty much every day this week has been miserable. It's difficult to motivate yourself to get up in the morning (the lighter mornings do help) and even more so to get out and do some exercise.

I was lucky enough to enjoy a weather window on Saturday and get out with the Bonito Bikes http://bonitobikes.com/ team for one of their regular training runs. Since living back at home WJD (Durden Jnr) has been spinning, training and now racing with them. Not only did the rain stop but the sun even came out. It was a pleasure not only to ride in a group but with some other really competent lady riders. They had a number of years on me and took me to pieces in the sprint finish back towards the Cardington air hangers.

The extent of the situation concerning this weather has got so bad that I even joined the gym in February. This means more yoga, power yoga in fact, pilates (my abs have not stopped hurting for a month) and, finally, spinning. I went to my first one last week and, whilst it was a pretty miserable experience sweating in a darkened room, it was surprisingly motivational and uplifting. I am going back tomorrow because the forecast is snow and rain.

Desert of Wales

50 years ago (well, it might have been 49, no one is quite sure), two families set off for a day's excursion in an old Series I Land Rover to the Desert of Wales (DoW). The two families were the McNamara's and Durden's and, 50 [49] years later, the two families looked to repeat the trip. More commonly known as the Cambrian Mountains the DoW label comes from the late 18th Century when travellers described the landscape, not for being arid (we are in Wales after all), but for being completely devoid of any people. It is still known as the least populated part of the UK so not much has changed.

The two vehicles we took this time were 1949 and 1951 series I Land Rovers. A project over the last few years for Uncle William was to overhaul these two vehicles and, having put the trip in the diary, he soon had a deadline to work towards. For anyone that has read about the adventures of the 'Oxford and Cambridge Far Eastern Expedition' in the excellent book 'First Overland' this, along with the original family trip, was the inspiration.

1949 - 109 VDE

1951 - HWN 157

No modern comforts for the trip ahead.

In the run up to the trip there was much route-planning and dredging up of old memories: trying to remember where they'd been all those years ago. The main orchestrators were my father John, a Durden, and Uncle William, a McNamara. The Mac's, as they are fondly known, live in a beautiful corner of Pembrokeshire and the families have holidayed together both in Pembs and various other locations around the world for years. My Grandmother (aka Nanny), Eunice, and Uncle Wiliam's father, Geoff, were first cousins and were very close throughout their lives.

The night before we departed we had an obligatory slide show of the original DoW trip [I will try and get digital copies of some of the slides to add to this blog in due course...] along with a few comedy photos of the now 'oldies' in their much younger years - from kids on the farm in the 50's through to the 60's and 70's when they were all getting married. We had a real giggle and enjoyed seeing some of the original DoW photos when they had to re-build bits of road and navigate their way down narrow farm tracks. Very little tarmac in those days.

Sunset on the eve of departure:

The work horses and the 'support vehicle' - needless to say, no one wanted to enjoy the comforts of a brand new Discovery: we were all fighting to have a go in the Land Rovers!

                            

The convoy leaves Glenafon Manor, Haverfordwest.

The planned route took us from Haverfordwest up the old A40 to Llandovery. The first part of the trip involved my first ever McDonald's Egg McMuffin for breakfast (surprisingly good) and some of the only overtaking we saw the Landy's do that week...

Queuing up in the drive thru' McD's: the next generation. 

From here we headed due north towards Cilycwm and Rhandirmwym along a beautiful single track road along the bottom of a valley that took us up into the foothills of the Cambrian Mountains.

Once we were satisfied that it wasn't going to rain preparations were made to enjoy the most of the sunshine. Having been unsure as to the state of the roads it appeared that they were mostly tarmac so progress was fast and at one point our concern was that we would get to our end-destination - Strata Florida Abbey - far too early!

One of our co-drivers and hot-water bottle for the camping.

More tarmac...

First stop: the Llyn Brianne Dam. This categorically was not in existence 50 years ago having been built in the 70's. It included a dramatic storm-water run-off which can be seen below. Fun on a skateboard perhaps?

View from the edge of the Clywedog Reservoir which was created by the Lynn Brianne dam in the early 70's. Possible open water swimming venue? It would have been pretty fresh at the end of April so I was glad I hadn't brought my wetsuit with me. 

Heading deep into the Cambrian Mountains. The colouring of the landscape at this time of year also alluded to a 'desert'.

After lunch one of our map readers spotted another track which appeared to be passable and we set off to enjoy some off-road entertainment. Again, everyone was clambering to be in the Landy's but the Discovery was pretty impressive, if a little boring.

There is a similar shot of the trip 50 years ago as the one below. A few different outfits / haircuts and just the one Land Rover back in the 60's.

The Discovery did suffer a few scratches, which may have been the result of going a bit too close to the edge. I'm relieved to say that it was not me driving at this point.

Hold on to the dogs!

The final approach to Strata Florida Abbey

They made it look easy...

 Strata Florida chapel and graveyard.

The first abbey actually lay 2 miles from the current site and was founded by the Norman Robert Fitz Stephen in 1164 for the Cistercians by the banks of the Afon Fflur. The name "Strata Florida" derives its name from this stream (Vale of Fflur, or 'flowers'). The abbey was a daughter house of the great Cistercian abbey at Whitland, and the first colony of monks would have come from there. The abbey was moved to its present position on the banks of the river Teifi, most likely as a result of politics: in 1166 the Welsh prince of south Wales Rhys ap Gruffydd conquered Norman holdings in Ceredigion and took control of the area. The Cistercian order, committed to a life of rural simplicity, was very successful in Wales, and Rhys was happy to take over the new foundation. Indeed, he later even became known as the founder of Strata Florida for which he had a special affection. The north and south transepts can still be seen along with a number of surrounding burial mounds. Otherwise there is very little left of the structure.

The west doorway of Strate Florida Abbey.

Strata Florida chapel / stained glass window.

A power nap after a long day at the wheel.

Our faithful assistants and carriage dogs.

Another ruin, with a stunning garage / stable...

... and one hell of a view.

Incredible views from the top of the hill climb out of Pontrhydfendigaid after we walked from the abbey.

Gorgeous Welsh Cob stallion (section D / C?)

A new born lamb.

Food and shelter for the night. The Black Lion at Pontrhydfendigaid. Delicious steak and ale pie.

Setting up camp. Who needs a tent?

We were treated to an incredible aerial display by a couple of red kites at sunset. These birds had once been perilously close to extinction after the Vermin Acts of the 16th century and further persecution in the 17th and 18th centuries. At the end of the latter gamekeepers were employed on country estates specifically employed to kill the kites which threatened game birds and other wildlife. By the late 18th century red kites had bred for the last time in England but only in rural mid-Wales did an unofficial protection programme attempt to safeguard the bird. Over a period of about 100 years a fragile breeding population was maintained by committed generations of landowners, rural communities and individuals. They now thrive in this area and in certain parts of the south-east. 

After a somewhat cold and disturbed night's sleep, not to mention Uncle Robert in a very noisy 'bivvy bag' which provided much hilarity at 2am, we awoke to another gorgeous day. The camp fire was already roaring again and we enjoyed a full fry up at the Black Lion. Before setting off that morning the cars were checked over and an unusual rattle noticed by James Mac (William's son). This was an excellent spot because we'd actually lost one of the main bolts holding the gear box in place. One remained and was doing its job but with more off-road planned today, it was a vital find because we would have been in trouble if the second bolt had failed. 

We hung around waiting for the local garage to open and then raided it for a similar bolt to the one we'd lost. 

Running repairs were completed and after some limited conversation with the locals off we went on our merry way.

Astoundingly, for Wales, there was not a cloud in the sky and we set off to find some more of the off-road tracks that we had enjoyed the previous day. 

Our first and only serious mechanical of the trip was, of course, on the Discovery with both Landy's avoiding any huge disaster (second incident to come...). A puncture and, I'm delighted to say, when the old man (JD) was driving so he had no one to blame but himself.

Definitely by luck rather than judgement we saved the best until last in terms of the off-road. The overhang on the back of the Discovery meant that it didn't even attempt it - pah! James lead the way...

And then the old boys had a go, not wanting to be outdone by the youngsters. I've blown this one up a bit so that you can see the look of exhilaration / terror on their faces.

The final, and biggest, of all the water crossings.

James (standing, on the far left) was heard to shout loudly, "stay left, stay left" as the 1951 Landy was seen to almost submarine in a deep pool.

As the three vehicles moved through the water the '49 Landy started making the most horrendous noise: loud, rhythmical clunks as the engine turned over. Once the water was shallow enough William stopped to inspect and, as she was turned over a couple more times, we heard another bang and a 'plop' as a small stone was spat out of the fan. The mechanics weren't ever required as she sorted herself out!

We trundled home after a delicious lunch on the river bank and a final snooze before hitting the tarmac again. I was suddenly very jealous of the Oxford & Cambridge Far Eastern Expedition of the 1950's: was it still possible to do London to Singapore Overland, and would a couple of Series I's still make it? Based on their performance in Wales, we didn't see why not.

Watch this space.