The Fred Whitton Challenge

The Fred Whitton Challenge is one of the hardest UK cyclosportif rides. With 110 miles on the menu, and the infamous 30% Hardknott Pass, it certainly lives up to its name. Club member Danny Conway rode the event in 2005 and went back for more in 2006. Here he tells how he got on.

For the second year in a row, myself and a group of friends took on the Fred Whitton Challenge. On a route of 110 miles, taking on all of the major passes of the Lake District with 4200 metres of climbing, it is a tough day. Last year I was worried because I didn't know what to expect, this year I was worried because I did know. I had not done as much riding over the winter this time, so I did not feel as well prepared. I was pleased to find, however, that an additional year of experience in the saddle meant that I could ride smarter and that my strength had not completely abandoned me.

Things started well out of Coniston. The wind was light, although there was also a light drizzle. I picked up a fast group whilst climbing Kirkstone Pass, and settled in to ride with them for as long as possible. We kept up a good pace through Patterdale and made fairly light work of the A66 into Keswick. Riding in a pack of around 50 down through Borrowdale and alongside Derwentwater was great fun. The group almost pulsed as we contracted and expanded to fit onto the narrow, winding road through the valley, and the scenery is fabulous. As I expected, we fragmented a lot as we hit the first steep pass of the day - Honister. I learnt last year that the pack did not reform very well after Honister, so through the climb I kept an eye on who I wanted to keep riding with.

Painfully, the descent did not go to plan. The road was lightly wet from the drizzle and I was keeping a conservative speed. A car had passed me near the top of the climb, and on the descent it was having to slow for other cyclists. As I hit the steepest part of the descent, I started to lose braking power and found myself getting closer to the car. I was terrified of ending up in the back of it, but didn't make it that far. I had the gut wrenching feeling of my wheels losing grip and the bike slipping sideways, and then as it always seems to, everything went into slow motion. On my right was a dry stone wall, and on the left a narrow grass and rock verge, which fell away ten metres into a creek. The bike went to the right, but I flipped over it and went left. I thudded onto my back, skidded across the road and stopped on the grass. Fortunately I had stopped between two rocks and short of the edge.

The horrifying part was while I was regaining my senses, a few other people came off on the same stretch of road. I saw two people other people crash into the stone wall, and I believe at least one person suffered some very serious facial injuries. Fortunately by this stage people were realising that the road was very dangerous, and the other riders were being warned to slow right down.

A friend caught up with me, and after he helped me put the bike back into the right shape, I very hesitantly got back on and continued down Honister. I know it is prudent to get back onto a horse after a fall, but it was terrifying for me to continue down that hill. It was only a few miles to the first food stop in Buttermere (the 45 mile mark), and so I was able to clean up a bit, get some food and stop shaking. My back and ribs were sore, but I could move. My plan was to go a little further into Keswick, where it would be easier to get back to Coniston.

Once I got moving again, I was keen to try to finish the ride. It is a great atmosphere, and after months of build up I would have been very disappointed to pull out. My friend and I found a third guy who was riding at our pace, and we had a steady ride through the western area of the Lakes. Last year I lost all motivation, strength and almost consciousness on this leg of the ride, so I was pleased to feel much more alert and in control. Even with my pains, we were able to glide along at a strong pace and the views were great. Even Sellafield gleamed in the sun.

As we started to near the second food stop in Gosforth (the 85 mile mark), I was getting a lot of pain from my back and ribs. At the stop, after some generous slices of chocolate brownies, the first aider confirmed that I had broken a rib on my right side. We still had the worst two climbs to go - Hardknott and Wrynose - with gradients of up to 30%. I did not think I had the upper body strength left to climb these, nor the strength to control the bike on the treacherous zig-zag descents. My decision to pull out was confirmed when it started to rain. My confidence on wet descents had not been restored that quickly, and even walking down in cleats would have terrified me. Alas, I made the phone call for a very generous friend to drive out from Coniston to pick me up. I was pleased with my 85 mile ride, and my broken rib gave my effort extra credence.

The rest of my group completed the ride, and we all had a great chat over dinner that night. The two non-cyclists in the party were probably very bored with our tales, but it was a terrific day. I am always enamored with the atmosphere of large, challenging rides, and there had been a real buzz on the Fred Whitton. Now I nurse my rib and somewhat dented bike.