Attracted by its billing as the 'Toughest Sportive in the UK', I signed up for the Etape Cymru in January. Back then this was easily the biggest challenge I'd faced in my relatively short cycling career, but with nine months to go I was confident I'd be fine on the day. Sunday 14 September arrived. It was now that day, and was I fine?
Well, with a couple of 90+ mile sportives completed, the RideLondon-Surrey 100 and an altitude training camp in Spain (actually a family holiday with a cheeky bike hire and early morning rides) under my belt, I felt pretty ready.
The Wiggle Etape Cymru, organised by Human Race, is a 2000-participant, 86-mile, 2500m climbing monster of a sportive set in the picturesque countryside of North Wales. It is set apart from most contenders by the inclusion of a timed KOM Challenge (with prize) and the major attraction of being completely run on closed roads.
However, there were a couple of hardships to overcome before you could access this rarest of amateur cycling treats. First off, the price of the event. At £62, the Etape Cymru is at the premium end of the sportive market. Although it's a pricey event, compared to other sportives I do actually think you get your money's worth.
The second hurdle is the mandatory pre-event day registration. Registration was held the day before the event start in Bangor, from 12pm-7pm. This meant a very long journey a day early and an overnight stay at an hotel. Around a month before the event, I felt I should start to look for accommodation close by but soon found I had left it too late: everywhere within a 10 miles radius was fully booked. We were left with a chain hotel in Crewe, 27 miles away, and event-day alarm clocks for myself and my two ride companions were instantly set another hour earlier.
I felt that the mandatory pre-registration was something of a dupe to be honest; I can't really see how it is necessary. But seeing as we faced a 3-4 hour journey to the event anyway, it was probably best for us to come the night before and we didn't moan too much.
The pre-registration itself was a simple straight forward affair. A quick flash of the ID in exchange for a brown envelope full of number attachments for bike, helmet and jersey and we were done. Elsewhere on site there was a mini Wiggle van selling some bits and pieces and a few Watt bikes set up for testing, but that was about it.
We made our way back to the hotel, checked in, put the bikes in the room and went off for some carb loading at a Pizza Hut down the road. Fully stuffed, we returned and set the alarm for 5am in preparation for our 07:09 start time.
Having woken up at 5am, we were soon on the road to ensure we were at the event 45 minutes early as instructed. However, when we got there it was announced that the organisers were running 20 minutes behind schedule due to delays setting up the necessary resources around the route. With plenty of time to spare, we pumped tyres, stuffed jersey pockets, checked weather forecasts and made vital clothing decisions. The weather was set to start out around 12 degrees and rise to 18-20 degrees throughout the day, with no rain and no strong winds forecast. This forecast was spot on and I was very happy with my clothing choice of a long-sleeve base layer under a jersey.
At approximately 07:30 we were off, and soon rolling at a nice pace out of the starting venue. Less than 5 minutes in we passed a rider who had taken to a strange scooter-type contraption for the ride, claiming he was attempting to ride the full route. Chapeau!
With only 12 miles undertaken we were received by the first feed stop of the day. I unclipped to grab a quick bite and was pleasantly surprised to see one of the finest feed stop offerings all year: jaffa cakes, jelly babies, Haribo, chocolate bars, crisps, pretzels, salted potatoes, bananas, cranberries, cheese pasties, sausage rolls, flapjacks, a range of Power Bar products and energy drinks (I think that's everything) were set out for us. This same spread was available at all three remaining stops along the way too, along with mechanical and first aid tents.
Up until now, the scenery had been sort of just...ok. A few fields and some quaint villages. Deep down I was slightly worried, hoping there would surely be something more worthwhile for our epic travels and pains.
No sooner had we rolled down the hill from the feed stop than all my worries were set aside. A glorious road opened up out from the forest and snaked its way down a road carved mid-way up a valley hillside. The view to the left was of sheer drops into the most beautiful of Welsh countryside, and to the right, steep green hills with large rock faces randomly protruding.
This was quite a danger as my eyes were distracted with the sights while my bike was quickly gathering speed down this resplendent descent. Eyes back on the road we weaved our way round the valley, narrowly avoiding resident sheep while praying none decided to step a couple of feet into the road.
So far the terrain had been slightly lumpy but nothing too serious. At around mile 20 the Horseshoe Pass was upon us, representing the first major climb and also the timed KOM challenge. At 6.1km in length it was a gradual climb with the odd ramp here and there, but nothing too bad.
Coming at such an early stage in the ride, I didn't want to go too hard and leave myself empty for later - but I also wanted to try to break into the top 15% of rider times. A fine balance of conserved effort was exercised along with some food to replenish the spent energy. I ended up sneaking in around the 16th percentile I believe.
We continued on and a pattern soon seemed to emerge: 10 minutes' hard climbing followed by 10 minutes of kamikaze descending. The descents were easily as challenging and energy sapping as the ascents as the concentration levels had to be set to 'sharpest'. I found myself covering miles without hardly a turn out the pedals, yet a firm grip around the brakes was never far away.
Some of the slops were along very tight lanes, with some rough, worn roads. I employed a circumspect approach, however, lots of well-placed warning signs scattered the route at the most treacherous and deadly of the bends. The descents though were really where the closed road value for money became noticeable. Being able to follow the best line of the road, while only having to worry about the position of other riders and the quality of surface, is clearly a perspective normally only experienced by the elite, and yet here we were flying down hillsides pretending to be Fabian Cancellara. Whizzing over junctions and taking the apex of bends without having to worry about a head-on collision with a car was simply a joy.
Around mile 45 came the next big climb which seemed to go on forever. The Shelf crept upon us suddenly but seemed to go on for an age; 25 long minutes later we were blessed with more spectacular vistas and the pain just about eased away as I attempted to capture some of the beauty.
In between The Shelf and The World's End, more of the same continued. Ten minutes up, 10 minutes down. Awe-inspiring scenery and pain followed by breakneck-speed descents. Occasionally the road flattened as we jumped to a new region, and once again this was an opportunity to fully appreciate the space and emptiness of the closed road. Whether you wanted to jump on a fast train or just mosey along at a steady pace, owning the road was an absolute pleasure and something we all tried to take in and cherish for as long as possible.
The last major climb was soon upon us. The World's End, at just over 195m ascent in two miles, was a solid test towards the back end of a very challenging day of climbing. By now the legs were nicely warm and dull, and as I climbed an eerie silence of suffering pervaded the hill as efforts were focused on breathing and slow turns of the smallest of rings. Never have I been in the granny gear on so many occasions as on Sunday. I'm fairly certain my 34/28 was the most frequently used ratio of the day.
We were soon upon the last feed station of the day at 71 miles, and after a quick top up of free (not really free) supplies we were on our way out of the hilly region and back into flat territory as we headed back home. Somehow, with around 8 miles to go a six-man train formed, my group of three and three strangers. Without speaking a word it seemed to be agreed that a fast finish was the order of the day, and we were all soon taking turns on the front as we maintained a 20mph average. As we sped into the finish a mini bunch sprint ensued. Very spontaneous and good natured, it was the perfect end to an enthralling day in the saddle (mainly because I won the sprint!).
Overall, the Etape Cymru was extremely well organised and run. Every closed road and junction was posted by an event marshall, and all the marshalls showed genuine enthusiasm in cheering us on as we raced by. Locals came out into the streets to support and cheer also, which all added to the experience of tasting what the pros must only take for granted.
The weather was perfect for cycling: dry, not too cold, not too warm and not too windy. If I'm being picky I would have preferred the landscape to have been coloured with some brighter hues, to really pay justice to its splendour. Nonetheless, the muted, nondescript grey tones could not suppress the real performer of the day that was the Welsh countryside. Views and roads like today are what made me fall in love with cycling and what motivated me to train in cold, wet February days; and today I have to say, it was certainly worth it.
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