On Sunday June 8th 2014 under overcast and threatening skies 79 Orwells, 2 support crew and 1 sticky bottle began assembling from 6.30a.m. for the Wicklow 100 and 200 events – truly one of the iconic events on the leisure rider's calendar. They aimed to complete in times from 5 hours (for the 100) to 11 hours (for the 200). Riding in his 9th Wicklow 200 veteran Tom Weymes was among the first to set out accompanied by Christine King. His pre-ride estimate of 10.25 hours cycling was spot on. Here are the stories of the day as seen by three of the groups on the 200 – the very fast crew (Helen Horan), the not so fast crew (Paul Walsh) and the really big crew in the middle (Billy Parker).
First up is Paul:
Unofficial diary of the "Not-so-fast-crew" (NSFC has a more professional ring to it)...
Like all good Irish family outings, the split happened before we started, but with Tomas McUileagoid's crew having got a taste of life in the fast lane of the peloton, the divorce ended in Baltinglass and the rival NSFCs joined forces against the elements for the remainder of the day. A combination of white & yellow group, does that make us the cream of the crop?
Due to great organisation at the start Fergal O'Sullivan got lost in the car park in Greystones and went on a solo run, re-surfacing again in Baltinglass. So 7 NSFC riders including a guest from Mt Leinster Wheelers and another who works in Guinness (an important connection) started at 7.15, with Tomas' team not far behind.
Rumour spread that we had an Orange group rider with us - resulting in respect/fear! At the split in Laragh by which time the heavens had opened Aishling O'Connor wisely opted for the 100k route, she was talking about gorillas by this time so her mind was probably gone from altitude sickness. Another of our group calmly announced that his wife was due to give birth any day soon, and could "only" do the 100k as he had to get home - again respect!
The remaining four battled it over Wicklow Gap led by Ciaran Walker, where we somehow lost our guest from Mt Leinster Wheelers, it must have been the sun in our eyes, but we found him again in Hollywood.
Having been well coached by the Maestro Denis "Up 'n' Over" Gleeson, we worked well in a strong headwind until a blur passed us - it was the 50 strong peloton led by the giants of the fast group in Orwell Colours, the throng included Tomas and his gang getting a free tow. In awe we sneaked in at the end of the swarm and hung on like leeches in the draft until Baltinglass, wisely avoiding the crowds in the Fatima Hall, and instead joined the impromptu Orwell AGM in the steamy atmosphere of the Centra.
We even spotted the Orwell car - but it must have been like the secret of Fatima because even though we saw mirages on the Shay Elliot (again from the heat & sun) we never saw that magical car again. We concluded that the car was for the fast lads who would get tired and we didn't need it anyway, 'cause we were so strong on the hills. You know who you are Mr. Granny Gears...
We adopted the U.S. Marines' motto in Vietnam - no-one gets left behind - and so it was as the platoon headed into the no man's land of North Carlow/South Wicklow as I hummed the banjo music from the movie Deliverance. With Sliabh Maan and Shay Elliott conquered it was time for the lads to break the sound barrier down the hill to Rathdrum - or was that the delayed effect of the egg & cheese sandwiches combined with energy gel? Good job the wind was blowing the right way.
Having bumped into the legendary Tom Weymes and Christine King on the Wicklow Gap, and also on the road to Baltinglass (special mention to Tom on his 9th W200), we met Tom and Chris again in the hall in Rathdrum where there were no crowds this time - where did that Peloton go, did we pass it once again ?
Having brainwashed the gang that there were no climbs after that small little hill out of Avoca (what maniac designed that course?), we now had the wind at our backs, the craic was mighty and Tomas kept us well marshalled. After being buzzed by a wasp on a "comfort break", it was time to down the remaining energy bars, Tomas had to hold back the lads who wanted to give it a lash on the last few k's, meaning that everyone stayed together and we did the last 30k in 60 mins. I think the average was 23k+ for the full route, not bad for our first W200. It wasn't too long ago we were huffing & puffing up the embankment for the first time led by Denis & John T, and now we had conquered the famous W200, thanks Denis & JT.
Well done and thank you to Tomas, Greg, Aishling, John, Ben, Niall, Robbie, Ciaran, Ronan for a great day in very poor conditions. Who is on for next year?
Now for the other extreme of pace, Helen:
Firstly, let me explain that my recollection of the whole event is a little sketchy for some reason. Looking back at the day, I've a few clear memories standing out of a blur of rain and bikes and uphill roads so forgive any inaccuracies!
On arriving in Greystones shortly after seven; I glanced around, expecting to see a cluster of green jerseys somewhere in the grounds. Eventually I spotted Ian Cullen, not wearing any Orwell colours whatsoever, standing alone with his bike. He bore the expression of someone who was searching for someone or something in the distance. I approached him and said "it's going to be a very long day if it's just the two of us here" and he replied "I know, what are we going to talk about?". Little did we think that coming up with conversation topics would be the least of our worries along the route!
Almost immediately, Orwellians began to appear from all directions, most of whom had their jerseys covered up with brightly coloured rain jackets. Stephen Ryan arrived and kindly took bags of spare gear for the support car from us as we were hit with our first shower of the day. As at least forty of us stood around whingeing about the weather and shivering; it began to look like we were the only people left in the whole place. We had planned to leave at 7:30; it was now well past that and I felt like going home!
Eventually someone suggested that we should "make a move" and there was a brief discussion about splitting up into a few groups. Diarmuid Donnelly said that he was going to head off first leading a "slightly faster" (than what?!) group. The prospect of cycling slightly faster wasn't really appealing to me but getting the torture over and done with as quickly as possible seemed like the best approach so I edged hesitantly forward hoping that a few of the other ladies would do the same. We started to move off almost straight away and were out on the road before I got a chance to survey my companions properly. Scanning the group, I quickly realised that everyone there was faster than me- Diarmuid, Paul, Ian, Colin, Barry, Adrian, Eugene, Jonny, Jules and Killian (who I'd never met before). What was I after letting myself in for?! We also had two non-members in our group, Arnold (who plans to join Orwell), and Derek who was connected somehow to Mervyn from what I remember.
So on we went and it felt pretty relaxed until we got to Long Hill (or at least I think it was Long Hill; it was certainly very long!). Of course the Marmotteers in the group couldn't wait to start climbing and tore off up the hill. Halfway up, I said to Diarmuid that I'd probably have to drop back to the next group at the first foodstop as I wouldn't be able to keep that pace up on the hills. My feet were still numb yet the rest of me felt uncomfortably warm inside my rain jacket. Then, as if by magic the pace became comfortable again - thanks Diarmuid! Killian was being quite encouraging; telling me that this was the longest hill of the day and that there was a long descent ahead. Not having met me before, he obviously didn't realise that I disliked descending even more than climbing.
I don't remember much about the journey from there to Baltinglass apart from getting soaked and nobody saying very much apart from Eugene who seemed oblivious to the abysmal conditions and Ian who later admitted to enjoying cycling in the rain! I asked myself why we were paying to put ourselves through this misery! I think it was still raining as we rolled into Baltinglass or maybe it had stopped but I must have been absolutely frozen because I felt no sensation whatsoever as I clicked out of my pedal. My feet were so numb, in fact, that I had to glance down at my left foot to see if it had actually moved at all in my attempt to release it.
The queue out the door of the official food station looked somewhat less than inviting, so instead we decided to opt for the Spar up the Road. The collection of bikes outside the shop door told us that plenty others had come up with the same idea before us, unfortunately. Out of the corner of my eye, I enviously spotted Ger and Rodney getting settled in the eatery next door while we traipsed into Spar to make do with the dine on your feet alternative. Inside, we met queues for the deli, the coffee machine and the toilets. One of the greatest advantages of attending male-dominated events is being able to skip straight into the ladies' while the men have to stand in queues. Unfortunately this wasn't the case here as it was a one for all set up.
On returning to the main store, I was greeted by a shopful of Orwell faces; another huge group had just descended on the small shop. I had just begun to enjoy my chicken tikka wrap while chatting to the new arrivals when Diarmuid told me that we were heading off in a few minutes. I realised that this wasn't open for debate when I saw others from my group with "we're ready to go" looks on their faces. I really didn't want to face the rain again but nevertheless slugged back my coffee obediently and devoured the remainder of my wrap in a most unladylike manner. As I gobbled it down I realised that I should have been a little more discerning in my choice of lunch. I had probably chosen the most indigestible, low carb sandwich (of sorts) available - it wasn't going to take me very far!
On our bikes once more, we became re-accustomed to the damp air and that familiar post-coffee stop sensation of our legs not belonging to us- or at least that's how mine felt; I didn't ask the others about their legs! I knew that Slieve Maan and Shay Eliot were the main features of this next section but never having been up Slieve Maan before, I didn't know where to expect it. On at least two comparitively minor inclines I asked whoever was beside me "Is this Slieve Maan?" only to hear that it was yet to come. When we eventually reached it, let's just say I didn't need to query if this was it! We had just begun the climb when my chain decided to get jammed as I was changing down gears. It didn't take long to rectify this but getting going on the hill again was proving difficult as the majority of my companions sailed out of sight. I knew Eileen wasn't too far away with her camera and was contemplating whether it would be worse to get caught on camera attempting to get into my pedals and failing dismally (repeatedly) or pushing my bike up the hill. When Arnold appeared and offered to give me a push I gladly availed of it. On rounding the next corner, I was relieved to see that the others had stopped to wait for me-gentlemen!
By the time we reached the summit; I had actually begun to enjoy myself. I could feel my feet for the first time all day and the atmosphere of the event had changed. Everyone seemed to be in better form as we were beginning to look towards the end; there was still a long way to go but the toughest of the climbs was over. The heaviest shower of the day came bucketing down before we made it as far as Rathdrum. The road being submerged in places by dirty rainwater meant that we were getting drenched from every angle. I wasn't bothered by this though oddly enough, probably because I wasn't cold anymore or maybe I'd just given up on the weather.
The Rathdrum foodstop was actually well-stocked and pretty quiet.The friendly tea lady took one look at my mud-spattered face and said "they're not looking after you very well, are they?" I'm not sure why she thought it was the responsibility of my fellow riders to keep my face clean. I don't think it rained anymore in the remaining 50k and our group seemed to have doubled in size. I can't quite recall when the race to the finish started or who was involved but I'm guessing that we began to lose our formation with about 5k to go. The following report came directly from one of the modest horses' mouths.
"It was myself, Barry and Jonny with Barry pushing the pace, so much so in fact, that one guy slowed to the side of the road with awful cramp. Barry finished first and with Jonny taking the wrong exit on the roundabout, gifted me a sneaky second." - Ian
I could have sworn that Jules was off ahead with them as well but I might be wrong. I know that Adrian punctured. Diarmuid said that he was going to take it easy and then changed his mind and sped off, finishing with Colin ahead of me. Paul's chain came off at the last roundabout so he came in shortly after us too. Everyone else in the group must have rolled in at around the same time as well because we were all together to exchange congratulatory handshakes at the end.
Overall, I have to say that I enjoyed the event (in a funny sort of way) despite the day's horrendous start and was glad that I had chosen to join the "slightly faster" group of gents.
And for the rest of the 200 Group – Billy tells us about the day:
A flashback is a psychological phenomenon in which an individual has a sudden, usually powerful and involuntary, re-experiencing of a past experience, often a dramatic one.
Well the flashbacks were blinding and frequent at the top of the Wicklow Gap on Saturday 8th June during the 2014 Wicklow 200 as the rain pelted our helmets drowning our anguished moans. I was transported back to W200 in 2011, my inaugural one, involving as it did an entire day of biblical weather conditions and which lives long in the memory of those who were deranged enough to suffer through it and courageous enough to survive it. Was I about to relive it?
The Orwell Sportive Forum had been in overdrive for the previous week setting a new record for the number of posts. There was mention of a number of different groups heading out at varying times, at varying paces lead by varying members. What pace and which group to join was understandably deserving of serious consideration for the debutants. The result was a 100k group lead by Colin Featherstone, a few early starting 200k groups lead by Tom Weymes and Paul Walsh and a large contingent opting for the 7.30 am 200k start steady paced group to be led by Garrett Connolly and myself. That was the groups sorted in a general fashion, now for the weather.
Cyclists by nature are keen and experienced weather observers as it dictates how we dress for the bike. The variety of clothing and accessories on Sunday morning 8th June pointed to one inescapable truth – no one knew what the fecking weather was going to be like. There were overshoes, no overshoes, shorts, bibs, summer tops, winter jackets, leggings, leg warmers, arm warmers, rain coats, sun cream, eye drops, the lot. The casual spectator would have said there was a slight majority in favour of no rain and indeed I was in that category myself with no overshoes, shorts and my Orwell summer jersey. However we did have the luxury of a support car and the prescient offer to take whatever change of clothes you required and any other items that you could fit in a small bag. I availed of this offer as I well recall emerging from the freezing and rain sodden Rathdrum food stop in 2011 feeling like a new man because I had just pulled on a pair of dry socks. Little beauties they were.
And so spirits were high as we gathered in Greystones from 7am with the usual mixture of excitement and anxiety before a long tough mountainous spin. The earlier group was already out on the road and the larger 7.30 gang were gathering expectantly. We were graced by the presence of two mighty Orwell men, Dave Fitzgerald fresh from his extraordinary Stelvio exploits and Paul O’Neill still glowing from his Liège-Bastogne-Liège towering performance. Also present were some threatening rain clouds and there had been some heavy showers earlier in the morning, no doubt cooling the jets of the Tom Weymes/Paul Walsh groups. We were visited by a further heavy shower just before rolling out.
A faster Marmotte dominated group headed off first followed by our steadier paced unit, some 30 in number, populated by some Marmotte boys and girls, many debutant Wicklow 200 participants and a few strong lads who I expected to push on as the day unfolded. All in all a very fine bunch who, as politely requested/directed, cycled up the first climb, the Long Hill, at conversation pace. Stopping and re-starting such a large train is a logistical challenge and so arriving at the top together meant we maintained momentum and the train sped on to Laragh passing many on the way and picking up some passengers as well. The legendary John L, who was late for the 7.30 departure, caught the train, briefly pulled alongside the train and then left the train in his wake.
The rain clouds grew darker as we glanced up towards the Wicklow Gap and as the group naturally began to fracture on the climb, my thoughts turned to 2011. As if to remind me, the pelting rain let loose with full force as we neared the summit and not surprisingly the leading climbers elected to push on. Pulling in to survey the condition of our severed band of warriors, the flashbacks began and the thoughts of a similar day to 2011 loomed as dark as the sky itself. I don’t know how but suddenly everyone around me seemed to have overshoes.
We regrouped as best we could in the conditions knowing that we would stop anyway at the garage in Hollywood. To our delight the rain eased on the descent, the temperature rose and the brightening sky on the horizon lifted our spirits. Warm wet weather is not a cyclist’s best friend as we beaver away generating tremendous heat which gets trapped inside our tight fitting rain gear. Now if we only had the capacity to gather that heat and divert it to our legs as an energy source – without of course any increase in weight. Just a thought.
We arrived at the garage. It marked our first encounter since Greystones with the Orwell car, brilliantly manned by Stephen and Eileen. They were a very welcome and regular presence for the rest of the day giving a continuous level of moral comfort and support for which we were most grateful. We gathered ourselves once again and when fully assembled, with the most welcome addition of Rodney, all 24 of us turned left into the prevailing southerly wind, bracing ourselves for a long stretch of open road to the food stop at Baltinglass which we covered in good time with plenty of well drilled up and overs. A special mention and thanks to Rodney who did an outstanding job all day gliding up and down the peloton ensuring everyone was alright (One aspect of the Leisure Programme is a Spirit of Leisure award for which nominations are made by members and I will be nominating Rodney for his display of true leisure spirit throughout the day. Any other nominations to Jean/Diarmuid).
Rodney pulling the group around
Now the food stops on the W200 have mixed reviews and as with last year many by passed it altogether heading straight for the local Spar. This year the shop was almost as full as the official food stop. Either a reflection on the organisers or the quality of the Spar (which was seriously well stocked and prepared) or perhaps both. Either way we piled in, as some of the earlier Orwell groups piled out. Us out of the rain which had started again and the others back into it. A made to order quality large brown roll, an acceptable cappuccino, both consumed in the fruit and veg section and I was ready for the next leg.
Food, drink, chat, toilet breaks, bike adjustments, medical attention and the usual distractions meant a stop of almost 45 minutes so everyone was keen to get moving again which we did with renewed energy and off we flew towards the West Wicklow mountains and main climbing part of the day. We covered this section in great style as a smooth rolling peloton on to which was bolted an ever increasing number of friendly fellow travellers as we snaked and weaved our way towards the looming Slieveboy and Slieve Maan. Into the land of Mordor and the Rings, the big ring and the little ring.
Slieveboy does require some effort and a quick stop at the top for removal of rain jackets was called for in the certain knowledge that Slieve Maan would demand even more effort. And so it did. No big ring here, even for our greatest of hobbits, Garrett. However with the most fortuitous and favourable of winds on our backs and the clean mountain air, interrupted only by an army of motor bikers who for some reason passed us twice, with one wearing a mad pink helmet with floppy ears (maybe a few too many gels on my part) we toiled and laboured our way up and managed a gritty beam for Eileen as she unexpectedly appeared with a huge zoom lens at the side of the road. Smile!
Once we were all accounted for and with a mobile coffee machine awaiting my eager custom at the top of Shay Elliott, the descent started. Thankfully the roads were dry and the air warm enough not to need a rain jacket and so we hit Shay without hesitation and with as much momentum as possible. Controversy now abounds on the slopes of this famous climb as we debate whether the Orwell car was pushed up the hill to prevent a possible stalling of the engine or whether the cyclist in question, undoubtedly in the big ring, got dealt the hand of the day and with it, the full benefit of Orwell membership. As with most important issues in life, it will ultimately be a matter of conscience.
The cappuccino at the top of Shay Elliott is of a surprisingly high quality and very reasonably priced. I strongly recommend it. We once more gathered and welcomed all as they joined one by one, a serious challenge and achievement for many who had never climbed either SlieveMaan or Shay Elliot before, not to mention both of them back to back. Great stuff. A quick and dangerous descent followed and then what has to be the draggiest stretch of road in Wicklow as we headed for Rathdrum and the second food stop. Quality sandwiches (but no egg), cake and other delights awaited us in what seems to be a stop manned and run by an entirely different and separate organisation to Baltinglass.
Refreshed
With enormous pleasure and eager anticipation I headed for the gents. For I was armed with my bag which I had retrieved from the Orwell car and wherein lay, neatly folded, a fresh and dry pair of shorts, a pair of socks and an Orwell top. I emerged beaming and shining, like a sub in a rugby match on the worst of winter days, an advertisement for washing powder and fabric conditioner. Anyway, I felt fantastic even though some of my colleagues did not appear to share my joy.
First time participants in the W200 can be forgiven for thinking that Rathdrum is some wonderful and magical destination marking the end of the climbing for the day and the beginning of that lovely downhill section to the Meeting of the Waters. All done and dusted and indeed not anything as bad as feared. Well, they now know that the climb out of Avoca and the seemingly endless uphill turns and drags thereafter are not what the tired legs expected, desired or deserved. It is a tough section and strikes when the body and mind are at their lowest reserves. The women and men of our group tackled it bravely and each entered their own place to summon up the energy to carry on and get to that very welcome right hand turn with 35k to go starting with a 4k downhill freewheeling no stress descent. We waited at that turn until all were together reserving a big round of applause for the last member who courageously worked up to that junction.
Homeward bound. Some still full of cycling and others less so. Instinctively and without hesitation the group settled into a rhythm that suited all and that ensured we would all get home. No need now for any direction from me as to pace or otherwise. We had cycled 170k together, we had chatted, smiled, grimaced, laughed puffed and wheezed our way across Dublin, Carlow and Wicklow and all were now very much aware of the benefit of the group and all intuitively wanted to finish as one. So we rolled along watching the sun slowly emerge, as Garrett promised it would, gently climbing up the last hill in Kilcoole and down through the welcome roundabouts into the arms of the Shoreline Centre in Greystones where we got a great round of applause. Without doubt the largest group of the day to set out together and finish together. We managed just under 8 hours bike time, a very respectable result indeed.
The aim was to get all around safely, finish together and enjoy the day. We achieved all of that (and incredibly not a single puncture) thanks to a great bunch of Orwell cyclists who respected each other and all others on the road. It was a fine example of how to properly represent the leisure section of the Club and also what leisure cycling is all about. Those who were strong in the group had time to enjoy the day and help others and those for whom it was a real challenge finished feeling justifiably proud of their achievement and eager for more. After all that, I did not have an entry as I was too late to register, and so did not officially do this year’s Wicklow 200. So a big thanks to Dave H for so generously giving me his medal and his food at the end.
Well done to all and it was a privilege to cycle in such good company namely Garrett, Rodney, Colm, Gerry D; Gerry K; Gerry O’C; Niall; Louise; Dave; Sinead; Mervyn; Nicole; Derek; Eamonn; Peter; Rob; Jean; Bruce; Shane; Fintan; Adrian
View from the car (Stephen Ryan)
It was so different from what I expected – images of relaxing cups of coffee in Laragh, Baltinglass, and other far flung places were in our minds before the day started. Apart from an initial 10 minutes looking for somewhere open in Greystones at 7.45 on a Sunday (there isn’t) we spent the day looking at cyclists' butts, me driving French style where it was safe to do so (other side of the road) and Eileen hanging out the window with Colm Egan's pride and joy camera snapping away. The full set can be seen here https://www.flickr.com/photos/124560146@N04/sets/72157645083448576/. It was a full on day as it turned out and we seemed to have little down time. Don’t get me wrong we were delighted to be in the car as the rains came down on the Wicklow Gap.
From a purely utilitarian point of view , we only attended 50% of the incidents that we were required for – rescuing Mervyn Bent and enabling him get back on to the group – and leaving Bryan Johnston to sing for his supper – which incidentally he did get from a kind local. Bryan was in Rathdrum with difficulties and we were in Baltinglass – couldn’t have been further away. Mind you the track pump seemed to be in constant demand every time we stopped. And we sold one tube.
However the feedback on the support we got afterwards was remarkable. People loved having the car there, they felt it gave them a little reassurance that if things went badly they weren’t going to be stuck, therefore they relaxed and didn’t need it, dry clothes at Rathdrum went down well as the picture of Louise Keane’s before and after feet will attest, Eileen always made the cyclists smile as we went by and the high visibility of the club and the sponsors was unmistakeable as well. A day like the Wicklow 200 made the decision by the club to run the car for two years seem a very wise one indeed.
Video
Some great video of the peloton and other shots...
