A ridge too far

The Fred Whitton... to anyone who doesn't cycle seriously in the UK, this term might not mean much. But for those in the know, 'The Fred' is arguably the toughest one day road cycling challenge you can find. It's a 112 mile ride through the stunning Lake District landscape, with around ten of the toughest climbs in the country thrown in for the sake of it. It began as a memorial ride of friends to honour the legacy of Fred Whitton, a passionate advocate for cycling in Cumbria and North Lancashire who died prematurely in 1998. In the last 25 years it has grown into a major sportive, attracting riders from around the world and raising over £2m for charity. There are other rides in the UK that might seem comparable in distance and total ascent (our ride registered around 11,600 feet), but with the big climbs reaching 25 and even 33 percent it is the sheer steepness of the Fred climbs that drives you to your limits.

So, being a typical Yorkshireman with a passion for cycling and all things north of Sheffield, I couldn't resist the lure of riding the Fred. Vaguely remembering driving up those climbs in a car, in true Jeremy Clarkson manner I comforted myself with the question 'How hard could it be?' and announced my intention to ride it before I had chance to learn more and sneak away quietly... Quite a few people showed interest in joining me until they looked at the route - but gradually a trusty band of 5 of us was formed to make our attempt on the Cumbrian monster. We decided not to enter the sportive itself, as it is always vastly over subscribed and it would have been a shame for some of us to miss getting a place. Instead, we planned to ride the same route one week afterwards. This proved to be a good move, as I'll explain later.

Setting off from Horsham on a Friday morning, we arrived at our hotel situated right on the route itself. The weather was set glorious (which is quite unusual for the Fred), but the hills around our hotel in Troutbeck already looked pretty intimidating and its name 'The Mortal Man Inn' didn't bode well. What's more, the welcome notice at reception was about as comforting as the sign for the 'Slaughtered Lamb' pub in 'An American Werewolf in London'...

However, one hearty meal and a restless sleep later, we gathered in bright morning sunshine to assemble our bikes, watched over by a bunch of bemused and somewhat skeptical ducks. Ian Bradbury and Philip Van Der Veen made up the HCC contingent, plus some new friends Guy and Paul - who both looked a bit too sprightly for our liking. At least Ian and I knew what we were getting into - we had already bailed onto our gravel bikes in the vain hope that easier gears might somehow give us the superhuman powers that we had so far failed to demonstrate. But it was at this point that Philip confessed that he had no idea what the Fred was when he signed up, and that he hadn't bothered to do any training for it... Ian too was in recovery mode from illness and hadn't been able to train as he would have wanted, so we knew we would need to take it easy. What's more, the official advice was to burn no voluntary matches, because the hills in the last quarter of route would burn them for you whether you liked it or not.

Our first climb started right at the hotel - a long but achingly beautiful slog up Kirkstone Pass to the highest pub in Cumbria, where folk regularly get trapped by winter snows. The descent was fast and swoopy, but gusty headwinds kept us cautious. We had agreed to take the hills all at our own pace, and we regrouped at the bottom for a fast run along Ullswater, until the cycling gods decided we needed to be put in our place by another punchy climb over Matterdale End. From here we had a long rollercoaster ride north to Troutbeck (yes, another one...) where we joined the A66 for another fast sprint to Keswick. This was the only part of the route where the traffic caused us any concerns, but it's unavoidable and was over pretty quickly.

After passing through Keswick we had a gorgeous undulating run along Derwent Water and down to the tiny hamlet of Seatoller. All was going pretty well but Ian's lack of fitness was starting to tell, and he made the sad but very wise decision at this point to turn back for home - he knows the area well and (unlike Philip and myself) also knew what was waiting round the corner. Honister Pass starts out at around 25%, but it doesn't look too bad as that's just a short section before it turns a corner amidst the trees. Having hauled ourselves up there, the true horror was revealed as it carries on like that for another half a mile or so. It was here that I realised just what we were up against, and also how wise it was to avoid the sportive, when climbs like this were littered with the bodies of everyone who had written cheques that their anguished legs couldn't cash. I was on the limit, and even Philip was beginning to look reassuringly as though he might be close to it too... although Guy and Paul seemed depressingly unfazed by it all...

Top of Honister Pass

Still, all the boys came good and we were rewarded with the fabulous windy descent to Buttermere, where our next challenge lurked. Newlands Pass is a relentless slog of 10-15% up the side of a beautiful valley, if only you have the wherewithall to look up from the taunting road ahead. Once at the crest, though, there's a few miles of fast and open descent to savour, down to the town of Braithwaite, and the next big climb of the day, Winlatter Pass. Guy reassured us that this was just a steady 6%, which seemed fine until that turned out to be another 10-15% for a few hundred yards. Guy was now officially placed on the 'not to be trusted' naughty step - but we made it to the top, where the Fred Whitton yodas said we should make a conscious 'go/no go' decision as it would only get harder from here on. Unfortunately I had forgotten this, so I sealed my fate by carrying on as the others followed like eager lemmings.

The view from the Whinlatter climb

After a long descent and blast through Loweswater we finally stopped for a welcome and most excellent lunch break at 'The Gather', a community-run cafe and shop in Ennerdale, where Ian pinged us to say he was safely home. Suitably fuelled up, our next climb was over 'Cold Fell' - maybe the bleakest part of the route but still offering magnificent views far out over the Irish Sea. After yet another long and fast descent to Calder Bridge and a gentle ride through stone walled fields it was time to start facing our demons. Hardknott pass was looming, but there was still another 10 miles and a few more short, steep climbs before we encountered the first road sign of doom at Eskdale...

Hardknott Pass - the ridge too far (for me, at least)

We all fell rather silent at this point - the other hills had been hard enough, so the thought of something way steeper was difficult to get our heads around. Hardknott Pass is the Spinal Tap of British climbing - the one that definitely takes it to 11. It starts with a long 25% stretch, with cattle grids and passing cars to add to the challenge. Folk in the Lakes are a friendly bunch, and as we puffed our way up the nursery slopes of Hardknott they grinned and called out 'Well done, you've got this!' - but it only took one furtive glance at the hundreds of feet of climbing still to come to know that I really hadn't got this at all. Guy and Paul, our team mountain goats, were relentlessly powering on - but when I saw Philip grind to a halt that was the only encouragement I needed to do the same myself. We already had 90 miles of big hills in our legs, and no matter how hard we tried we would not make the summit on two wheels - so we may as well keep a little bit of powder dry for the big climbs still to come.

Hardknott pass - far steeper than it looks

Philip and I rode/walked/rode/walked/rode steadily to the top - and even walking 30%+ with a bike is a serious workout. Guy made it to the top but vowing he would never do it again, and Paul took just one small pause 'for a photo' (yeah, we believe you) before reaching the top. Chapeu to you both! Even the descent is more than a bit hairy, and after a very brief recovery you are again climbing Hardknott's little sister Wrynose Pass. This has an average 5-6% but the sting is in its 25% tail - another one to get you gasping and willing the end to come.

Mentally, we now imagined the ride was done - there were another 15 miles to go, but we were pretty jubilant - until we realised that the sadists responsible for the Fred had added another new climb to the route. Blea Tarn may well be beautiful (and it certainly is), but yet another 25% ascent was not what the doctor ordered at this point. We dithered at the bottom, pausing to take unnecessary photos and question whether our Garmin had the right route, until eventually we decided we had better just get on with it. Reaching the top you are rewarded with a magnificent view of the tarn and the hills, and yet another fast and winding descent. Then thankfully it's back to blissful sanity at last, with relatively flat roads back to the start of the ride in Grassmere. As time was ticking on we decided to cut for home at Ambleside - dreaming of the hotel bar and a well earned hearty meal. We had forgotten, of course, that the bit of the route to our hotel was yet another big climb in the foothills of Kirkstone Pass - but the closeness to home gave us the will to persevere until the Martal Man was finally in sight.

Inevitably, the dinner conversation dwelt on the adventures of the day, and 'would we do it again'. It's hard to say - on the one hand, the climbs are truly brutal and it's tempting to pop it in the 'been there, done that' category. On the other hand, the Fred serves up the most magnificantly beautiful and enjoyable day on a bike that anyone could imagine. The one consensus was that everyone capable of a long ride with plenty of climbing should try it at least once. You may well have to walk some of the hills, but that's not unusual and there is no shame in that - but you'll gather plenty of memories to cherish too. And by all means ride the sportive - you might have to stop sometimes when you would rather not - but from the ample videos on YouTube you can tell that the atmosphere and organisation around the Fred are amongst the best you could ever find. Definitely one for the bucket list!