Jamie Battles the Exmoor Beast

They say the body has no memory of pain. This may be the case but mentally, the memory of last year's event came right back with a vengeance on the first hill. It's not the hardest climb on the route, but coming ten minutes in to the 100 miles, it certainly gives you little time to warm up before the percentages ramp and the gears drop. 

This year, this early burn was exacerbated by my front mech missing the memo about the 6165 feet of gain on the route and refusing to shift down in any meaningful way. This  would lead to a fair amount of standing up and the invention of a new shifting technique, of which more shortly. 

Despite this minor setback, I and my 1.5 litres of Mars milk left Tiverton in the front of the first group of riders to set off, resplendent in MCCC jersey, took a lovely sojourn around Wimbleball lake as the weather continued to hold, managed to stay upright on some pretty tricky slippy and leafy descents and finally arrived at the first feed station in Dunster feeling fresh and limber.

My enquiry as to whether there might be someone with tools and a bike stand to look at my gearing proving negative, I picked up a banana, had a quick stretch and headed off in the direction of Porlock and Dunkery Beacon, the event's main heart stopper.

While treating my gearing like a fixed gear enabled me to overtake and distance groups of riders whose default response to inclines was to go straight to the granny, I realised I was going to have to do something if I was going to make it up to the top of Exmoor. Just before the run on to the main climb, I bit the bullet and went digital - that is, I stopped and moved the chain in to the granny ring with my fingers. This first of four such shifts accomplished, I sat back, gritted my teeth and attacked the Beacon.

Its worth mentioning at this point that last year, I manged to get to the top without stopping, having full use of my gears for the first two hours and a bigger big cog to climb in. This year alas, I must shamefully confess that I stopped briefly to get my breath back and eventually ran out of steam some fifty meters down from the easing of the incline at which point I got off and pushed. This increased my MPH from two to three however. Happy Days!

Having gotten back in to the saddle, and my front mech sneeringly shifting with ease in to the big ring again, I set off on the exposed moors and steep cattle grid strewn descents that make up the middle portion of the Beast. The wind was strong but mainly a tail and I made good time, having to change down digitally before the climb out of Simonsbath, stopping at the top to finally eat my banana and have a quick stretch, before hitting the water station just before Barbrook. At this point I had another stretch and took on more water, before making the third of my digital shifts to climb out of the valley and on to the last portion of the ride on the moor. Around Parrcombe, the last of my four digital shifts occurred to get up a sixteen percenter, and finally I was two thirds round with the last feed station at South Molton in tangible reach of my increasingly aching legs. 

You may have noticed a fair amount of stretching happening - this was only postponing the inevitable. My gels and water intake failed to prevent the onslaught of ten minutes of pretty nasty cramps around the 70 mile mark, partly due to my overgearing. After necking the rest of my water and having a roadside yoga session however, they had eased enough for me to make the descent into the portion of the ride that takes you down fast into the river valley through Brayford quarry, in to the feed station at South Molton. 

Having fully flapjacked, soreened, ham and cheese baguetteed, souped and watered myself, I took advantage of the look of pain on the faces of the group I had been pacing with over the moor, and left before they looked up - setting out on to the last section. At this point I finished the last of the Mars milk, put my head down and manned up. 

The run in to Devon from the last feed station, crossing the A361 and with the finish not more than 15 miles away saw me gaining a second wind as I steamed down the hill in to the Exe valley, around Stoodleigh, in to Tiverton Borough and finally in to Tiverton itself. Its an undulating fast bit of road that last year found me using the last of my reserves of will power, counting down the miles to the finish line. This year, cramp aside, I'd had a much better time over the moor and I worked hard to keep the speedo over 21 mph.

I finally came around the corner in to Tiverton High School to see Verity filming my final burst of speed - I whipped past and in to the sports hall where I took a look at my odometer as I was handed my Beast half pint glass.... finishing in six hours and thirty five minutes with an average of 15.5 mph. I think a return next year will certainly happen. Its a well run event, and the sheer nastiness of some of it creates a survivor mentality spirit with the riders you spend time with en route. See you all there next year?