It is impossible to not be affected by the rich history that embraces you when arriving in Abbeville, located on the River Somme. Our wonderfully quaint Bed & Breakfast was nine kilometres east, in the picturesque village of St. Riquier, opposite the British Cemetery for casualties from both the 1st and 2nd World Wars. Littered with historical attractions and incorporating a stunning landscape, the route of the Ronde Picarde takes riders through the heart of the Bay of the Somme.  Initially heading inland from Abbeville before turning for the coast and the Bay of the Somme and the climb of the 'la Bosse de Long', the route returns inland past lakes and battlefields towards the finish at Eaucourt sur Somme. Despite being extremely flat, weather conditions (heavy rain and strong gales) last year made riding extremely challenging and it was the first time I had experienced racing in echelons to shelter from the winds as we crossed the vast Normandy plains. Despite the atrocious conditions, my mates and I had thoroughly enjoyed the experience and we were back for a second assault on the Ronde Picarde. The sun was shining and there was a mere breeze - this was going to be fast.

Released to the heart-thumping sounds of Metallica's 'For Whom the Bells Toll' Jay, Dean and I were surfing the wheels at over 40 km/h, working our way out of Abbeville, while avoiding traffic islands and slower moving riders. Graham was enjoying the chaos far less and witnessed a crash close by but generally the groups started to form not long after the road narrowed for a bridge crossing on the town outskirts. The first few climbs were to further re-organise the mass of carbon, aluminium and flesh into more orderly pelotons of which Jay had placed himself into the front, while Dean and I were in one following, and Graham in a group not too far behind.

In these types of events it is critical to keep a careful eye on your position within the group. My intention was to stay towards the front and not allow myself to drop too far back. Every time we took a corner, riders would need to accelerate powerfully to stay in the wheels and the further back, the more extreme the acceleration. Furthermore, on a couple of climbs, I could feel myself slip back a little so I tried to ensure I would still have others nearby to help me back towards the front. A moments lapse in concentration, and I slipped off the back on a longer climb and I found myself isolated. Fortunately, I was swept up by a small group of team riders and I was soon safely ensconced back in the peloton.

As we hit the Bay of the Somme, a sharp right led us onto the 'la Bosse de Long', a short but steep hill, where a decent amount of locals cheered us on. The first of two feed stations was passed after 95 km, and Dean stopped for water and had to start a 30 km chase to get back to our peloton. Feeling smug that I hadn't needed to stop and was thereby saving precious energy, I came to a large roundabout at the 106 km mark where the shorter Medio route turned off to head back to Abbeville. The riders around me turned right and I followed before realising I should have carried straight on. I stopped, turned round but the group had already disappeared up the road. At first, I was virtually alone but desperate to catch the group I initially worked with a rider, who was already suffering and had very little to give. Fortunately, not long before my first ally dropped off, we were joined by a Dutch rider who was much stronger. I could see Dean ahead who was also tantalisingly close to getting onto the group but never quite making it. I wished I could radio him back so we could work more efficiently as a group of three. It seemed like an age before he spotted us and sat up. We then worked together and as we started to chip away at the gap, it was decided to make a concerted effort to re-join. The deficit closed but I was now on my absolute limit; apparently Dean was too (his heart rate hitting a new max of 184). I needed 20 seconds more effort to reconnect but then the lights went out as my heart seemed to explode. My allies were back on but I just slipped back - had I lost my chance? Fortunately, a group of 5 riders came past me, I managed to jump on their train and the catch was finally made. Back in the group, my major physiological signs normalised again.

It's amazing how much faster and easier it is to ride in a large group. Dean and I were now so comfortable that we were keen to go even faster. But any sustained effort to move ahead of the group would ultimately be reeled in by the chasing pack. Jay and Graham were experiencing the same feelings in their respective groups. It was not until we hit the last climb of any note, just outside Abbeville, that the group disintegrated. Around about 12-15 of us forged on to the finish. Dean and I crossed the line together to find Jay already tucking into his post race meal. As we did the same, a smiling Graham emerged from beyond the finish line. We had all exceeded our expectations for the race, all far quicker than the previous year.

Jay Baskerville - 5.04.15 - 37.7 km/h
Dean Turner - 5.28.57 - 34.8 km/h  
Phil Welch - 5.28.57 - 34.8 km/h
Graham Cheeseman - 5.46.58 - 33.3 km/h

This weekend is a must for anyone looking for a late-season race goal. But it's not just about the race. The village of St. Riquier is beautiful, the accommodation exceptionally comfortable and our French hosts extremely friendly. After we had raced, we took in the drama of the local criterium race lapping 40 times around the village and finishing each lap up a cobbled climb, then tucked into a delicious three course meal of frog's legs, steak, ice cream, beer and red wine while absorbing the talents of the 'French' country and Western dance troupe. The following day we took a pleasurable ride to the beach at St. Valery sur Somme before finally heading home. Without a doubt, this is an event that many of us have already entered into our diaries for 2019.

“FIENDISHLY SIMPLE, YET BRUTALLY HARD. EVERESTING IS THE MOST DIFFICULT CLIMBING CHALLENGE IN THE WORLD.”
The concept of Everesting is fiendishly simple: Pick any hill, anywhere in the world and ride repeats of it in a single activity until you climb 8,848m – the equivalent height of Mt Everest.

Our Everest challenge meant riding 60 reps of Toys Hill in Kent, which has an average gradient of 5% over three km, covering a total distance of nearly 380km’s and we planned on taking around 17-20 hours. Robb Cobb had mentioned his desire to do this over 6 months ago but planned on doing it solo believing no one in their right mind would possibly consider joining him. Wise thinking, but he hadn't taken into account the collective insanity of other riders in our training group. Jay Baskerville, thinking of putting in some solid hill training before taking on multiple ascents of Mt Ventoux, then brought up the idea of Everesting on 11th August, just two weeks before. I instantly agreed to it and Andrew Gleeson's initial reaction was 'no way, that's just mad'. Just a couple of days later and he was coerced into it and some fast-tracked planning was set in motion. Four lunatics from the Bigfoot Cycle Club would Everest but we would all be doing it for a number of worthy causes. I would be fundraising for CALM (Campaign Against Living Miserably), a charity aimed to help reduce the number of suicides in the UK to people far too young.

After almost perfect weather leading up to the event, severe thunderstorms hit the day before and 'Toys Hill' was suddenly deluged in torrents of water. Robb, happened to be visiting the 'Fox and Hounds', the pub at the top of the hill where we would have our support crew and he reported that in two spots there were rivers crossing from one side of the road to the other, streams running down on both sides, various large pools of water and a fair bit of debris. Fortunately, the rain abated in the evening but we now knew that the descents would be far more treacherous and the chance of mechanicals and punctures had substantially increased.

Jay, Andy and myself arrived bleary eyed at the Fox and Hounds pub at 1.30 am, only to find Robb, doing his own thing as usual, had already completed two laps of the hill. Confirming our worst fears, he told us the tarmac was badly potholed at the top, there was still a lot of stones and small rocks on the road and so extreme caution would have to be taken, particularly on descents. Despite the warning, on the very first descent I hit a large pothole and lost my water bottle; clearly not learning my lesson I hit it on the second descent and, with a loud crack, my rear wheel rim was shattered, forcing me to trudge despondently back up the hill, wondering if this event was meant to be. Close to the top, Jay and Andy overtook me and quickly fetched my heavy back up wheel from the support vehicle. I was up and running again but the wheel was clunky and the rear braking almost non-existent. Incredibly, I hit the same pothole on my third descent and on retrieving my water bottle, I found another (which I found out later to be Robb's), safe in the knowledge that I wasn't the only one to have hit this hole. Indeed, on hitting this, Robb had flatted his rear wheel and broken his light mount, leaving him to descend at over 60 km/h, holding the light in one hand and the rear brake with the other. With this precarious set-up, Robb flatted twice more in the night.

The daylight broke through after 5 am, and it was a relief to be able to see more clearly, particularly while descending. Surely, this would be so much easier now and the worst of the mechanicals would be behind us. The warmth of the day was starting to break through as we rode towards 9 am, when suddenly my front tubeless tyre exploded, possibly catching the edge of a drain or a sharp rock. I fitted a tube but half way up the climb the tube squeezed through the split tyre wall and blew, leaving me to walk to the top again. I had done 20 laps (a third of the required distance) and after assessing my options, Jay kindly gifted me use of his Planet X EC-130, Cycling Weekly's Aero Road Bike Of 2017 Award  Winner. Luckily, Jay and I are both vertically challenged and so very little needed to be done to fit me to the bike apart from a quick pedal swap and an inch off the saddle height. Meanwhile, Andy had punctured three times and Robb is heard muttering that he is about to throw in the towel. Andy reminds him that his brother, Mark Gleeson, is out emptying a local bike shop of inner tubes and CO2 cannisters, that we were all struggling through some adversity, and the show must go on. Robb gets back to Everesting.

This day would have been so much harder and not nearly as bearable without the support of riders from Bigfoot, several friends and our marvellous pit crew. During the morning, a tsunami of blue and white swamped Toys Hill and helped us up several ascents. It was heart-warming to pass multitudes of riders shouting our name and offering encouragement. So many people came out to support us and I thank you all. In particular, I must thank Chris Bell, who rode six laps with me and took me to 30 laps and half way, and almost immediately he was replaced by Richard Collier, who rode ten laps and took me two thirds of the way through. Graham Cheeseman, Myles Davidson and, as night approached again, Rus Kesley, all put in big shifts. Mike and Mark (Andy's dad and brother) were absolute legends and provided bottles and food every lap, charged lights and batteries, as well as so much more - just seeing a supportive face every ascent filled us with the desire to continue and we wouldn't have been able to complete this challenge as quickly and successfully without them.

With the sun sinking behind the trees, we are finally left to our own thoughts, the camaraderie of the past few hours an almost distant memory. The road falls quiet except for the occasional car returning from an afternoon excursion or shopping run. This time was mentally the most difficult, even if it wasn't as challenging technically as the night descending. Interestingly, nutrition strategies clearly differed between us. Andy and Jay are lapping faster and staying together but are taking longer stops and eating proper food; Robb is also stopping for a short break and sandwich after every five laps, while I stay on the road eating primarily gels and consuming protein and carbohydrate drinks. Although I am lapping more slowly, I manage to close the gap on the others while they enjoy time off the bike. In truth, I feared that any time off the bike may have dissuaded me from getting back on, so I just kept turning the pedals, just like I would have done if I was competing in a 24 hour solo race. Ironically, the only occasion I did stop to eat food, a slice of Robb's wife, Annie's delicious Millionaire Shortbread, my top front tooth broke off, leaving a gaping hole in my almost non-existent smile.

We had hoped to have finished before darkness enveloped us again, but the early mechanicals had long scuppered that hope. Furthermore, Robb had suffered even more trouble, when his rear derailleur had somehow become twisted with his chain, initially thought his ride was over, but patiently disentangled the drivetrain. At around 8 pm, we were all riding with lights again, and so speeds on descents, which had ranged between 60 and 85 km/h in the daytime, were now much less impressive, the spectre of the unseen potholes looming again. But we had learnt the layout of the road and surely they wouldn't trouble us again. Amazingly, we all appeared to be on the same lap, and so we completed the last few laps together at a more serene pace. Then Robb disappeared from our group, a victim of yet another puncture. We completed the 60th ascent without him, waited for him at the top and with fuzzy brains and poor maths we agreed to do one more lap, just to be sure we had covered the necessary 8848 metres of climbing. Once again, Robb failed to follow the script, perhaps not willing to risk another descent in the dark, and did it 'his way', riding just half the hill again while Jay, Andy and I completed the 'glory ascent' together. 390 km, over 9000 metres of climbing and 21 hours total elapsed time and it was finally over...

Although this is definitely a tough challenge, one that only 2200 people worldwide have completed, the discomfort is only temporary and it is our own choice to participate. My heart goes out to those who suffer pain and suffering every day, so much so that they often consider taking their own life. My niece was one of these and we must do more to listen and help as much as we can. By undertaking this challenge, I hope that this endeavour can help raise awareness and financial support to those poor young people that are suffering daily. I have set up a 'Just Giving' page to raise money for CALM, while other charities we were supporting were the Hearing Conservation Council, the National Association for People Abused in Childhood, Bromley Mencap and Freddie Farmer. Please give generously to help others considerably less fortunate than ourselves.