A Day Out In Staffordshire

5.30 alarm. We kick Daughter’s friend out the house, who has stopped over, we’re all charm at our place. Then I drop L and Daughter in town so that they can catch their coach up to Sheffield for the 10k up there whilst I drive over to Stoke for the Pro Tour Ride and a little matter of 145km in the saddle. The event is a full stage (stage 5) of the Tour of Britain cycle race which starts next week. I couldn’t resist this one, being a unique chance to ride over the same terrain as the professionals will do. If we’re being picky, it’s not exactly the same route, there are a few places where we will be diverted on to more minor roads than the race will use and the race will finish back where it starts at the Stoke City’s Britannia Stadium rather than in Hanley. The upshot of that, is that we will do 145km, whereas the Pros only do 134km, slackers.

I pull into the event car park nice and early. There aren’t many here yet, only about ten cars, for saying that 1,200 cyclists are supposed to be riding the event. I don’t want to be one of the first to set off, so I take awhile getting my kit together and then go off in pursuit of some breakfast. Once at the stadium I find that a lot of people are already waiting at the stadium, obviously having parked elsewhere or perhaps more likely biked there.

Breakfast consists of malt loaf, which isn’t bad, and all you can eat in Mule bars, which are disgusting, all swilled down with Lucozade Sport. Personally I’d have preferred a mug of tea.

As it approaches the start time of 8am, it’s still quite chilly; everybody is going for the full body cover except me. I haven’t really brought any warm cycling clothes; I’m sure it’ll warm up. It had better.

I join the queue to start, they are setting us off in groups of forty every four minutes from beneath the official gantry. It takes around twenty minutes for me to get to the front of the queue and then we’re off.



It’s good to see that the group stays together as we thread our way out of Stoke and past Trentham Gardens. It’s great to ride with so many people, making you feel as though you’re really in the peloton. At first the pace is moderate enough for most people to stay with but as we head off into the countryside, the pace is gradually cranked up and people drop off the back. I battle to stay in touch, knowing that once this group is gone they’ll never be one as big as this again. I stay with the pace until there are about fifteen of us left and then I too get dropped. What did it for me is that I only started free-wheeling so that I could grab a swig from my drinks bottle. In the fifteen or so seconds it took me to do that a gap had opened that I had no hope of closing and they were gone.

Never mind, a few minutes later the leaders of the next group of forty swept me up. They were obviously travelling even faster than my group as I could still see mine in the distance and I’m sure this lot will catch them, and soon. I tagged onto the back of them, for... oooh minutes before I got tailed off again.

I pulled into the first checkpoint at Eccleshall, 21km in. I’m feeling a tad knackered after going off too fast with the group and I’m not sure how I’m going to manage to pedal another 124km! I munch on another slice or three of malt load and down one of the energy gels that I had brought with me.

Then we head we head off east towards Stone. I have an unplanned stop at Milwich (41km) which is actually a stop on the shorter 70km route and not on my itinerary but they have sandwiches and hot tea so I stop anyway. Anything to avoid more malt loaf.

Past Uttoxeter and another checkpoint at Stramshall, which doesn’t have sandwiches so it’s a good job I stopped at the last one. I’m only 58km in but L texts to say she's already finished the Sheffield 10k. I text back my congratulations on her performance and excellent time.

Then I push on. It’s been easy so far but from here they say the route becomes more challenging as they take us up onto the Staffordshire Moorlands, by the time we finish we will have climbed a total of over 2000 metres. The first official hill is the 2nd category climb of Wootton Hill at 75km but it doesn’t pose much of a problem, I’ve trained on worse.

I’m in a small group and we keep getting passed by the men in black, the Rapha Condor cycling team, who will be racing on the course for real next week. I assume they’re on a reconnaissance mission. I can’t live with them, at least when they’re moving but they keep stopping for a chat to each other and I keep getting back in front for while, until they wizz past again. One of them is sporting the colours of the National Road Race Champion, so he’s either pretending to be, or is National Champion Kristian House, who recently defeated all the UK’s household names to take the title. If he slows down a touch I’ll offer him a few tips.



It’s a long stretch to the next checkpoint at Tittesworth Reservoir, 95km done. So 50km to go via a big hill called Gun Hill, a 1st category climb. My kit selection has proved correct and now the sun is quite strong and I get my shades out my bag, as I continue to overdose on Lucozade Sport.

So to the long steep climb of Gun Hill. Some folks resort to walking up it but not me. I didn’t think it was too difficult, nowhere near as tough as some of the climbs I did on the White Rose challenge, an event which has obviously prepared me well.

I'm really enjoying myself now as we head through hilly Leek, cheered on by quite a few spectators who have turned up to support. They reckoned Gun Hill was the main ‘treat’ of the day but some of the hills around here proved troublesome too for people with tired legs. They threw the 3rd category climb of Cheddleton Hill at me but I had my nose set for home now and I laughed in the face of it. There was simply no way I resorting to walking up any of them.

Some people were clearly struggling. I passed a few hobbling at the side of the road and I asked if they needed assistance. The usual response was that they had cramp in both legs. Nasty. There were continually motorcycle outriders going up and down the groups of cyclists and they soon went to their assistance. They’d also help you fix your bike as well, if that was necessary. Most of the checkpoints also had mechanics and first aid at them as well.

For the last 30km I go for it and tug another chap along with me, who claims he hasn’t got the legs left to help out with the pace. We’re passing everybody now. I even pedal up most of the remaining hills on the big ring, although it wasn't possible on the big one near the end.

There’s a drinks stop at Godleybrook (117km) and I think about not stopping but in the end I do, just for a quickie.

Then I can see the Britannia Stadium in the distance, one final effort and I power across the line. Finished. Doddle. Six hours and thirty four minutes but what I’m more pleased with is that my bike computer tells me that my time on the bike was only five hours thirty-two at an average of 16.5 mph. Pleased with that. I just need to remember how to walk now and then find out if I can still drive.

I head home to an almost as smug, but not quite, L and we congratulate each other.

Later down the pub a greyhound attacks MD and gets him around the throat which finishes the day off in an unhappy way. The owner had to choke his dog to get him to let go of MD. Thankfully no physical harm done, luckily the dog must have had very blunted teeth.