The West Kernow Way…the hard way (in 24hrs?)
Well if ever a challenge was created on the back of an envelope this is it. Is it possible to ride 236k of off-road track and trail within the first 24hrs of the new Cycling UK route being launched? That’s averaging 9.5k an hour. I’m pretty sure this can be done, and will be done, but will it be completed by me on the 3rd of September 2022…the odds are pretty much stacked against it. Let’s have a look at why I am unlikely to succeed in this attempt.
- 236k is a long way to ride on the road…never mind off it
- I’m only going to get the route at the point that I start; midnight on Thursday the 2nd, so I have no idea where it goes until then
- I’m not in the best shape
- I’ll be starting the ride in the dark
Ok, let’s backtrack a little…why am I even considering doing this? There are a few motivating factors here. After eight months of emails, pitches and meetings a major publisher has given me the commission to write a bikepacking guidebook. I have done a fair bit of bikepacking but I am definitely looking for a challenge to kick off writing the guidebook; a way of re-booting my passion for this style of riding after a summer of road cycling.
I have been excited by the prospect of the charity Cycling UK launching the West Kernow Way route since it was first announced back in April. Despite residing in Hackney in London most of the time (when I’m not under canvas) I consider myself a West Country Bey at heart having been brought up and raised in neighbouring Devon. It goes without saying that the friendly rivalry between Cornwall and Devon normally associated with cream teas extends to trail riding. For the Cornish, I will certainly have the status of an emmet.
Type II mediation
I’ve been riding since my 20’s and have often wondered what it is that keeps drawing me back to this type of ‘Type II’ fun. There are parts of a ride like this that are enjoyable as they are happening; the landscape inspires awe and endorphins are released. Other aspects are more ephemeral/ethereal. Not knowing what is next, Questions like: where is the trail going to take me? What obstacles are coming up? Have I got the right kit? Do I have enough food? Is my body going to hold out? So a bunch of unknowns that you hope to have planned for. It seems that part of the joy comes from the satisfaction of having planned effectively for a situation where you are flying blind. It’s guaranteed that issues will present themselves…will they bring the enterprise into jeopardy or be risen above? At this point it’s unknown…and that’s half the buzz. The frisson between what you can control and what you can’t. For me these journeys become a form of mediation; you are fully engaged but within the landscape as the kilometers roll by but you have to draw on something else to take you through the terrain.
New constraints
As discussed above I’m throwing down the gauntlet to myself…what can I change-up from my previous rides to improve things…how can I refine my processes? Can I improve myself, can I bring anything different to this ride, inspire anyone else to see things slightly differently? For that matter what can I see things differently?? So I’m trying to make this ride as eco-friendly as I can by taking on a few constraints:
- No car. I’m heading to Cornwall by train — not massively unusual as anyone who has tried making a bike reservation will confirm.
- No gels. I always try my best to avoid dropping gel wrappers and the little bits you tear off to get at the goodness (badness) so I’m making all my own snacks.
- No packaged food. I’ve never been a fan of dehydrated meals for a few reasons…but mainly their taste! Also, because their plastic sachets can’t be recycled. So I’m going to dehydrate my own food…it’s easy and a massive improvement of eating sofa stuffing.
- No animal products. I’m not a vegan or even a vegetarian but it's always a good idea to eat less meat and dairy. Also, when you are dehydrating food it’s one less variable to think about.
- No bottled water. This is a bit easier. It’s standard to only get refills from taps or streams but I’m also bringing along a water filter just in case.
Well, this is all I have time to write now. The date is rapidly approaching and I have loads of prep still to do so I will update this post once I have returned and we can compare the reality to the hype.
It’s now Sunday the 5th of September. My body aches all over: arms, hands, shoulders, and obviously thighs. But it’s a nice feeling. When I got to my house at 5 pm yesterday I had been thinking about tomatoes for most of the train journey, how they were going to feel in my mouth with an avocado and some salad dressing…I had had nothing to eat since a bacon sandwich outside Penzance station at 6 am. I had nothing fresh or raw to eat since Wednesday. I made a huge salad (olives, tomatoes, halloumi, half a bag of spinach, toasted seeds, avocado, sourdough croutons and 2 X mini-duck breasts). I ate this, drank a beer and then I slept 9 hours in my bed under clean white sheets with big fluffy pillows.
Back to Thursday and the day of the ride. I woke around 9 am and was feeling quite relaxed. I decided to do a final quick internet search to see if anyone was discussing the route just to give me some more clues. Then I really hit pay dirt. I discovered a page on Cycling UK’s own blog here. The focus of the post was highlighting all the ‘old ways’ that Cycling UK were incorporating into the new route. This was massively interesting in its own right, I am hugely passionate about the campaign to save unregistered bridlepaths (more info) but crucially it had a link to another site where they had created a map.
I had previously downloaded a random approximation of the route that someone has put on Ridewithgps (this turned out to be only 20% accurate) but I had the idea that I could trace the route out by cross-referencing their map with the OS maps. I did this. It took 3 hours. Zooming in and out of both maps until I could map each twist and turn. This was only meant to be a backup plan for me as I was under the impression that .gpx would be being dispatched to me from Cycling UK when the route was released at midnight on Thursday. Despite it taking an age to do, my plan would have fallen at the first without it. More on this in a bit.
So all packed and with one hour to make the journey to Waterloo I donned my cycling get up (no spare set of clothes to be carted around west Cornwall) jumped on my bike and set off at a pace on my loaded gravel bike to the station. Traffic was a mess with loads of post-covid road works and construction everywhere but it always feels good to be heading off on an adventure when I see people dressed up in their work togs, takeaway sandwiches, and cardboard coffee cups in hand spilling out of offices onto the streets.
I was already in a fix. I didn't have any water and so my idea to not buy any bottled water looked like it might be canned immediately. You can’t drink the water from the taps in train toilets. I got to Waterloo with 15 minutes to spare so I decided to walk around…I had a cheeky thought I would buy a pastry and ask the shopkeeper if they would fill my bottles but then I found this! Network Rail had installed a FREE water fountain for filling bottles. In a world where the basic resources we all have a right to are being commoditised wherever you look this sort of thing always lifts my heart, nice work Network Rail, more please. I drank a bottle's worth, filled up my two bottles, and jumped on the train with minutes to spare.
The South Western Railway had not provided any bike carriages on the train so to my shame I used a disabled space. Fortunately, the train was really quiet. Back when South West Trains ran this line you couldn’t reserve your bike a space so I hadn’t bothered for this leg of the journey. Luck was on my side. Nobody even asked to see my ticket. Next time I will follow this guide.
The train terminated at Exter St Davids. I masked up and jumped off. The Penzance connection was on time at 20.15. Plenty of space for my reserved bike.
The journey into the heart of Cornwall was interesting. The huge quantities of adrenaline I had manufactured in the lead-up to the off had been used up and replaced by low-level gnawing anxiety. Self-doubt was creeping in. The bright lights of the train carriage, sitting in a seat facing backward with no view and overhearing the two twenty-somethings in front of me comparing makeup tips and eyebrow threading. I was feeling a bit uneasy about my plan. In my head, after a six-month build-up, every gravel rider in the country would be itching to have a crack at this exclusive, as yet unknown, route. In my mind's eye each bike compartment would be stuffed with top-end gravel bikes accompanied by eager and focused riders, maybe people discussing their strategies for the ride? I was starting to yawn and needing a coffee, just a bit daunted about what I was about to do.
As the synthetic voice began to call down the stations in turn between Bodmin and Penzance I readied myself; made sure my phone and camera were charged, took advantage of the facilities etc. I had decided to make a little video clip as I got off the train to remind myself of what I was faced with on arrival. I stepped off the train at 11.45 (the train was late) and walked steadily out of the station into the cool Cornish air and found myself alone. Well not quite. Another rider had exited the train at Penzance and for a minute I thought I had company. I looked at her bike and stripped back set up and asked “are you here to ride the West Kernow Way?”, she replied, “No, Lands end to John O’ Grouts”. This made sense. It became apparent I was on my own.
I walked over to the wall beyond the station, made a cup of coffee, and boiled some water to rehydrate some food. Drank the coffee and checked my emails. Based on an earlier email from Cycling UK I had an idea that on the dot of midnight, or close to this, I would get a ping in my mailbox with a .gpx file or more likely a link where I could download one. The penny was starting to drop that actually maybe it was only me that was this excited about riding this route. I drank my coffee, put my little food rehydration pouch in my pocket, and got on my bike.
I rode out of Penzance, into Newlyn looking back on the harbour lights and onto Mousehole, and then took a sharp right turn. I peddled to the top of a hill. Stopped at a gateway and ate my lukewarm aubergine curry (tastier than it sounds). I was feeling nervous. I cycled on. After 20k I hit the first section of off-road. Looking at the GPS unit there was no denying it was taking me up a well-vegetated section of singletrack. This was the start. Game on. Hours of this followed. Dormant farm yards sheltering rusting machinery, flood-lit barns, medieval-looking stone bridges, piles of rubble, granite steps skirting opulent gardens. Briefly, a barn owl followed my course along a lane. Countless bats and badgers weaved in front of me.
The first POI was the Minac Theatre. I knew there was going to be nothing to see but a sense of completism and the fact I have never been there diverted me off the main route to take a look. It was dark. I saw the car park. This became a bit of a theme for the next 10k as I took the diversion to Landsend on the National Cycle Way #3 on a nice hard-pack path only to meet a big top and racks of nice-looking road bikes. I could hear the waves. But that was all I was going to get on this moonless night.
I rode a short section of A-road instead of retracing my path. The moon was low in the sky, a thin crescent glowing orange. I wondered why Cycling UK had not chosen to launch the route closer to the full moon. Half a dozen farmyards and hamlets followed. I was always conscious that my midnight manoeuvres might raise a farm dog from its sleep and see me facing down the animal and maybe waking its owners. This never happened.
There were sections where I had to double back. My GPS unit display suggesting one route and the path looking like it would provide but then the red lights would flash on the unit and I would have to about turn and re-think my plan. After a few of these fatigue started to set in. I made sure I was set on a good course and then I bivvied. I had done 48k since setting off at midnight.
I had decided to bring my hooped bivvy, a Terranova Jupiter. I rarely use this as it's literally a coffin-shaped tube with little room to do anything in but sleep. But that was all I was ever going to need it for so it was perfect. Head torch on I pegged it out, tied the guy cord to my bike lying a few feet in front, blew up the insulated mat already inside, shoes off, and slid into my liner and sleeping bag. It was very warm and cosy. Immediately a cockerel started to crow about twenty feet away. I was too tired to care. Soon I was asleep.
I woke at 7.30 am. It was a crisp misty morning. Now in daylight, I could survey my surroundings. I had found a little flat area not much bigger than my bivvy next to an allotment raised slightly above a village. The views stretched out to moorland on my right and the sea on the left. The skyline was punctuated by the shells of long-abandoned tin mines. I struck camp and headed out onto the moor.
This next section over Bosullow common proved to be one of the trickiest but most rewarding. As mentioned earlier Cycling UK's noble mission to use the West Kernow Way as part of an effort to reclaim the UK's old ways meant that any rider was going to be helping to forge the trail itself. What began as a stone farm track veered off over open moor as a line of singletrack.
This would have been ridable if downhill but impractical in the other direction. At one stage I lost the route whilst seeming to stay on the path. My GPS was set to automatically re-root to I didn't realise this at first. However, it lead me to a stone circle which was an unexpected bonus. After making the brow of the shallow rise I descended and caught up with the route proper again. I looked back to see where the route would have come off the moor and was hard pushed to make out any trail amongst the heather.
I stopped at a road junction in the Try Valley next to a sign directing me to towards the sea and the Gurnards Head peninsula and made some coffee. On two occasions surprised locals stopped and asked if I was okay. I told them about the new Cycling UK route and they seemed very interested.
The rest of the mornings riding from Amalveor Downs to Portleaven was fun. An endless procession of well-kept bridle paths, farmyard, and quiet lanes. Little or no traffic. It was around midday that I noticed an email from Cycling UK. They were congratulating me on my initiative to have pieced the route together and directing me to an ‘official’ GPX. I downloaded this to my gps. It felt good to be the supplied route and my confidence was lifted once more.
On to Relubbus, Millpool, Ashton and then a wonderful long downhill section along the high road into Porthleven. This busy, confident Cornish town looked to be making the most of the post covid trade. A sign outside the Harbour Inn was trying to tempt passers-by with the ‘Big Boy’ Lobster special for £60. A man with a tanned, weathered face in salmon pink shorts and a navy jumper sat with his partner enjoying a bottle of wine at a table outside the hotel. Families were enjoying crabbing from the rocks by the harbour wall. I rode slowly through following the route as it maintained the harbour's edge. Then passed the clock tower at the northern corner and out of the town slogging up the steep narrow streets to the southwest coastal path.
I was starting to run low on water. I stopped at the top of the rise, panting hard and feeling light-headed. This would become a reoccurring sensation as the afternoon progressed. The next section was a great bit of strategic route setting that takes the rider out over Porthleven Sands. This is unrideable as I soon found out when my bike sank into the sands and I hauled myself and my ride across the bay and then out onto a bridle path at its southernmost point.
On to Mullion and feeling exhausted. I stopped outside the town and heated water for my dehydrated food. My stove was playing up. The adjustment valve was stiff and I was unable to open it right up so the flame was meagre and the water seemed to take an age to get close to boiling. I was less than halfway round. I sat and ate some sweet potato curry and mulled over the realisation that I wasn't going to be able to cook again with this weak flame. The route stretched out in front of me. I had ridden 70k by this point in the day, so 110k of the 236k total. The official GPX was telling me I had over 130k to go. I was feeling pretty frazzled. Overwhelmed by the task ahead. I had ridden massive days in the past; sometimes close to 300 miles but never like this, off-road, each kilometre was hard-won, I was averaging 9–13k an hour depending on the terrain. I knew at this point I wasn't going make my 24hr target. But in truth that was the least of my worries.
The route really does its best to deliver you to the most stunning bits of the far west of Cornwall in a huge figure of eight. After Mullion it was down the Lizard Peninsula reached beyond a flat section of heathland the home of Predannack airfield. Lizard Point, itself is a tourist destination of sorts, beyond the bustling village, the lighthouse building acts as a focus for visitors. After a quick selfie, I retraced my steps and began the long ride north. Standout locations include Cadgwidth with its charming harbour and ancient inns, and beyond this Kennack Sands. It would be hard to imagine a nicer beach. I must have looked a sight hauling my bike over the sand dressed in a dark lycra outfit with fluro trim. The next section literally involved carrying the bike up the coast path at a 45-degree angle…then over rocks…then through three fields. I was dreading another section like that as the route steered me towards the next beach but Coverack was easier. I whistled through on an A-road and climbed out of the back quickly. This is retirement home central; lots of glass and granite, Aloe Vera and Pampas grass plants, weathered wooden signs with mineral blue lettering, SUVs in each neat gravel drive. Then the route took me inland.
Things got hillier. I walked up some 15% plus sections of road. Normally this wouldn't have phased me too much but I was wary of overdoing it with 100k left to go. Up and down, numerous hamlets and river fords. Plenty of opportunities to fill my bottles. It began to get dark at around 80k remaining.
This is when I had my wobble. After some stunning fast sections on hard-pack surfaces and a great ride along the shore of the Stithians reservoir, it was back to the fully vegetated bridlepaths around Threwithen Moor. This meant as much walking as riding and lifting ancient gates on and off their latches or loops of chain. By the time it was dark I was in a bogy section using my bike to steady myself as I climbed high onto the banks to avoid the mud. I was asking myself how much more of this I could do. But then two things happened in relatively quick succession. First I decided it was better to finish the ride regardless of the time I arrived, after all my return train wasn't until 9 am. If I ended up walking long sections this didn't matter. With this resolve, I pushed on towards the outskirts of Redruth and then, for a while at least, things really started going my way.
The tracks that ran counter-clockwise around the outskirts of Redruth (the route circumnavigated the town) were fantastic hard-packed cycle tracks and I really began to pick up speed again. Other than taking a wrong turn into a farmyard and then walking slowly into a field of sleeping pigs, things were going really well. The farmer was surprised but really friendly and helpful when I explained what I was trying to do. Onwards through the old mining area of the town, through Portreath, and finally on my way south again.
Things were still going well as I climbed round Carn Brea, onto Bolsknowe, and then round Troon. My Wahoo GPS unit indicating I had 23k left of the ride. I was really buzzing. I was going to get round. Then the route did something unexpected. It dropped me onto a riverbank and then indicated that the route continued along the river bed. The water was shallow so I dutifully followed. I did perhaps 500 meters of this but then noticed to my annoyance that the GPS unit was no longer following my location. The arrow had stopped progressing. It now said KM left to destination “n/a”. Disaster.
I kept cycling along the river bed until it brought me out onto a road. I ended the ride on the GPS unit and restarted it again expecting it to pick up the route again. But no. The route loaded but was still reporting KM remaining “n/a”. It was 2.30 am. After making such solid progress I just didn't have the patience or strength to follow the route on my phone. It was this technical fail that brought my ability to follow the route to a close.
With hindsight, I have a solution to this situation that could have allowed me to finish on the trail. I could have set my phone to not exit the display and followed the last 23k on my phone using my own cut off the route. But I just didn't have enough presence of mind. By this time I was in a trance-like state. I put in my headphones, used the wahoo phone app to plot a course to Penzance, and set off over the hills towards the coast. It was a further 27 km. More K than if I had managed to stay on the route but at least I could grind it out without thinking too hard.
As I was dropping into Penzance I started to speed up again. I was focused on getting off the bike. Just the pure pleasure of not riding any further. I got to the train station. Made a quick video, messaged the West Kernow Way Facebook group to say I’d finished, not strictly true but at that stage, after the massive day, 197 km, mainly off-road, it really seemed like a technicality. I put up my bivvy again by a food truck by the station entrance. Got in and slept.
I headed home without incident. I sat on the train, I drifted in and out of sleep. If my eyelids dropped I would instantly be engaged in some important yet abstract task. I’d catch myself and wake once more.
What did I learn from this experience? That Cycling UK has done a fantastic job in opening up a remote area of the country to myself and I suspect thousands of other cyclists. When I do it again it will be with friends, over 3 days, and we will soak up the lush, distinctive villages, pubs, and campsites. Did I learn anything about myself? Service your stove before a big ride and take more snacks than you think you will need. It's good to set yourself a goal but it's a yardstick, a straw man. I'm not massively competitive despite what you might think reading this…I'm not fit enough to compete directly with anyone else but I do enjoy a challenge even if it's one I invent for myself.
