A year ago a small family group of us – two fathers-in-law (Paul and me), two sons-in-law (Tigger and Cush) – took a trek over Causey Pike and round to Grisedale Pike in the northern Lakes. It was a terrific day out and we agreed to do it again, as soon as we’d recovered. So a year later off we went. The weather was diabolical and it was all a bit retreat from Moscow, but you can’t have everything.

We set off into low cloud up Garburn Pass on what should have been a spectacular walk round the Kentmere horseshoe, but the mist and rain descended and that was that. Half way round Tigger asked where we were and Paul said ‘the top’, which tells you all you really need to know. We completed a horseshoe of sorts and came out of the mist where we were supposed to. What was in between was all a bit of a mystery.

And that’s a shame, because I’ve always wanted to see what it’s like on top of High Street, and have tried many times to do so. On this occasion I had a sense that High Street started where Tigger dived into a snowy cornice and finished when we later took a right turn at a low wall. That sounds a bit vague, but checking the map back home showed it to be about right. I’ll confess to a couple of moments of concern out on the trail, but if you trust your map and compass you’ll do alright.

While a bit soggy, the walk had its moments. Best of these was when we spottetd a sheep on its back in a stream, legs waving forlornly. Tigger, who is from farming stock, took charge, whispering sweet nothings to calm it down (‘beast‘ and ‘lass’ are the proper Cumbrian forms of address, in case you’re interested) and in time turning it over and hauling it out of the stream and up the bank.

On dry land (a relative term) again it didn’t want to move. Fearing it had broken legs and feeling we had done what we could, we left it to its fate. By the time we had reclimbed the wall out of the field, Beast naturally had hobbled off, with neither a thank you or a by-your-leave. No manners at all, but then what would you expect from a Herdwick, an ancient Viking breed?

Still, Tigger had saved the day. We adjourned to the nearest pub for peanuts and a pint, and for reasons that are hard to explain we all felt very happy and pleased with ourselves.

IT’S going to be a busy summer up here, I reckon. It’s bad enough already, the Lake District being what it is, but now that we’ve got the ruddy newspapers banging on about ‘staycationing’ and a raft of TV luvvies falling over each other to discover the Lakes we could be in trouble. Would you all just please shut up?

The thing is, all these presenters extolling the virtues of the Lake District are just a bit too good at it. How could anyone resist the call of the Lakes? Clearly we have to prepare for the worst: the roads will be gridlocked by layby picknickers and Ambleside won’t move for the tourists searching out an ice cream and a photo opportunity.

John Prescott spoiled us, I’m afraid, by banning all the decent water sports on Windermere. I don’t have a downer on water sports – in fact I quite miss the activity on the lake, and Prezzer clearly reneged on a long established agreement between power boaters and the National Park – but that first summer after the ban we stayed in a hotel at Rydal and we could have had any room we wanted. That’s what the lakes should be like: all mine.

But back to the present. Hopefully this foretold traffic chaos may not impact too badly on our cycling events on 25 April; Wrynose or Bust may be early enough for us to get away with it.

But on the other hand, all this Lake District stuff on the telly might just generate enough curiosity in cyclists who live further afield to persuade them to come up here and give one of our events a go. Maybe there should be one or two more presenters celebrating the English Lakes and all things Cumbrian…

What’s the matter with them? Don’t they know a good thing when they see it?

LIFE and blogging has all been a bit Wrynose-centric of late, so I thought I’d say a few words about Pagefast for a change. Life goes on, after all (and I do have some news to impart).

We have just installed a new A3 digital printer, in which the great miracle of impressing words and pictures on virgin paper happens within a beautifully self-contained box. This by popular demand, so that our printers need no longer suffer the indignity of getting ink on their fingers. Modern youth, eh?

Any opportunity to stick it to the boys. Actually, it’s not that simple. Nor true, even. For one thing, we’re keeping our ruddy great, glorious, cast-iron German machines to do the hard yards for us; to print perfect pages one after another in tens and hundreds of thousands. So the pressroom lads will still get inky, bless ‘em.

The new digibox thing, in a different way another fantastic piece of engineering, has taken up residence in a very large corner of the office, from where it will handle the short-run, fast-turnaround orders for us. Postcards, business cards, flyers, leaflets, and so on.

To get the best out of the new printer we’ve set up an online shop, so you can book your order without awakening our estimator. And what a pleasure it’s been to deal with the banks in this. Their stock answer to every request for action is ‘it’ll just be two weeks’, no matter for how many weeks you’ve been asking the question. So it’s taken longer than we had hoped to activate our online banking system…

But it’s good to have something to moan about, and we’re there now. So if you’re browsing, have a gander. Go ahead, click here.

Our cycle fest is coming along nicely, as you might hope given the many weeks that have passed since I last dropped in. We just need a few more bums on saddles.

We’ve been fortunate to gain the support of a big hitter in cycle sport. Paul Loftus, who organizes the famous Fred Whitton Challenge, was oversubscribed for his 2010 event – as he always is – and kindly sent out a ‘Wrynose or Bust’ leaflet with every one of his reject letters. The Fred Whitton is the blue ribbon event in cyclosportive but can accommodate only 1,000 to 1,250 riders – with a bit of luck, a few of those who miss out on the ‘Fred’ this year will take up our challenge instead.

The Fred Whitton is a brute: 112 miles of massive ups and downs, including a pedal over our Wrynose. But the ride’s most astonishing statistic is the £60,000 that it raised last year for charity. This was distributed as follows:

£22,500 to Macmillan Cancer Support

£22,500 to The Dave Rayner Fund

£5,000 to Marie Curie Cancer Care

£5,000 to Air Ambulance

£5,000 to Mountain Rescue

Paul, the event organizers (all volunteers) and the sponsors work very hard to keep costs down, and 10 years after the inaugural event they are running one of the best managed, most cost-efficient sportives in the country. This year I bet they top £80,000.

They are not jealous of their success, either. It is a great tribute to Paul Loftus that he wants to help our Wrynose event achieve the same status. I like to think he sees us as kindred spirits, trying to achieve something worthwhile for our chosen charities while at the same time giving every one of our cyclists a cracking day in some of the best countryside in the country.

So if you didn’t manage to get on the Fred Whitton this year, give our event a try. We may be new to this kind of thing but, like Paul, our hearts are in the right place.

Two months, as it turns out, is a long time in bicycling.

A mere twinkle in a Rotarian’s eye in September, a blockbuster Wrynose or Bust is now becoming a reality. This time it won’t be just one aged lycra lout panting through south Cumbria but hundreds – if not thousands – of cycling enthusiasts thrashing round the hills like demented Toads. (I’m thinking Toad of Toad Hall; Wind in the Willows, and all that. See if this, slightly amended, account strikes a chord.)

The Rotary Club of Lancaster asked me to put together a team to run the event, so I did.

We are Bevis Mullholland, Mervyn Bonnet, Derek Hulse, and me. Bevis is our accountant; he’s a bit like a cross between Eeyore and a retired rugby prop forward, and keeps us all on track with our spending. Mervyn Bonnet, whose enthusiasm knows no bounds, has a key in the middle of his back which we wind up and off he goes. And Derek brings the key ingredients of an acerbic wit and a bit of gravitas; he keeps us in our place, keeps us on track, and does the liaison with the police and other local authorities.

As for me, I’m notional chair. I chip in with the odd idea, the other guys do the work, and I take the credit. I’m not sure how long I’ll get away with this but I’m doing all right so far.

But seriously, we are making great progress towards the big day, 25 April 2010. With three different rides, all starting and finishing at Halton army camp near Lancaster and all fully marshalled, we’re aiming to create a challenge for cyclists of all abilities:

Wrynose or Bust The big one: 112 miles through the hills of the Lake District, with Wrynose Pass in the middle.

The Bay Dash A moderate ride of just over 60 miles, heading out round Morecambe Bay and returning to Lancaster via the Cartmel valley.

Family Fun Ride A relaxed and relatively easy 12-mile ride, along dedicated cycleways to Morecambe and back along the Lancaster canal bike path.

We have a dedicated website, www.wrynose.org, and a publicity machine that is beginning to hum along nicely. Most of the proceeds will go to Cancercare, Rainbow House and Polio Plus, with smaller contributions being earmarked for a few other local Rotary charities.

All we need are cyclists – bums on saddles, as they say. If you’re up for a challenge, log onto the website, get yourself signed up, and get yourself a sponsor. Once you’ve got the first pledge there’s no turning back. You’ll thank yourself in the end. Trust me, I know.

I’ve kept the counsel of my teachers of late (‘empty vessels make the most noise, Simpson’), but with something to talk about at last I expect to be back blogging once again. Well, every fortnight or so for starters. Watch this space – and keep in touch, your comments are always welcome.

Apologies. I’ve been a bit lazy of late and would like to make it clear that I have not been abducted by aliens or transported overseas. Distracted by the business of making a living, yes.

Anyway, life after Wrynose goes on, and as it turns out, Wrynose or Bust may be back next year. The Rotary Club of Lancaster has asked me to make a feasibility study of my cycle ride through the Lakes and over Wrynose Pass, with a view to making it an annual fundraising event. We hope to appeal to those cyclists who not only like a challenge but also like to raise funds for worthy local causes.

And a challenge it will be, I can assure you. Lancaster to Broughton-in Furness, up the Duddon valley, over Wrynose, through to Little Langdale, and back through Grizedale to the start in Lancaster. Subject to route changes as we tweak the idea, 112 miles in one day.

When Lance Armstrong tweeted a casual invitation to join him on a bike ride in Paisley, within minutes 350 cyclists had turned up. So we know you’re out there. Fancy busting a gut for a good cause? Watch this space. [Edit: It's happening! Click here.]

As for work… Well, as most people involved in running a small business will concur, life isn’t easy at the moment. But the harsh light of hard times can be illuminating: we’ve discovered a few areas where we have been running inefficiently; we’ve made one or two tweaks to the business; and we’re doing OK.

So I shall be despoiling the blogosphere with my ramblings for a long time to come. Shorter blogs, bigger gaps? That’s just me applying the lessons learnt pedalling up huge hills. I’m pacing myself.

First, an apology to John Black. He was 72 in early May, not 71 as I reported from Wrynose. Subliminally, I suppose by making him younger I was making it a little easier to deal with the fact that at every hill he would leave me in his dust. At the end of the ride he could have gone round again, while I was completely blown.

I must of course thank everyone who took the time to contribute to my charities. We raised around £1000. Most of it was paid through JustGiving, but a good wedge also was paid directly to Lancaster Rotary Club. Bevis Mullholland sorted everything out at that end, including Gift Aid, so many thanks to him.

If you’ve enjoyed reading about the Wrynose adventure, it’s not too late to make a donation. I’m sure the charities that we are supporting would be happy to receive even the smallest sum, and would make the very best use of it. It’s dead easy to donate, too – just click here.

I’m still biking every week, and our epic ride has made me stronger and fitter. I’m cracking really good times over our usual Sunday routes, often in excess of 16mph average. Except that John is still humouring me, of course. I think I’m going fast, but he’s holding back for when he can go out on his own, unhindered by a 60-year-old whipper snapper.

So now it’s back to reality, the day job. Printing, ink on paper and the job I’ve been involved in for more than 44 years. Everyone at Pagefast can breathe a sigh of relief that the bike talk is over – we may even get round to discussing work, every now and again.

We’ll keep the blog alive, so if you’ve enjoyed reading about Wrynose please bookmark us. There’s always something happening at Pagefast, and we’ll try to report it here. In the meantime, if you are curious at all about what we do, please get in touch. I am always delighted to talk about my other obsessions, litho printing and Pagefast Print and Publishing Ltd.

Uh-oh.

As I write, I’ve been back home one and a half hours. Job done. Total distance 91.7 miles, up and down the hills of South Lakeland. Average speed 11.7 mph, but who’s counting?

I have not fully recovered.

We were averaging a rapid 15.7mph until the first big hill of the day, but Grizebeck, just before Broughton, soon put a stop to that. (I actually had it down as the third big hill, but what do I know?) John shot up it at twice my speed, but despite me coming down at 38.9mph – my fastest speed of the day – we were back to more usual averages.

After Grizebeck it was up another steady hill to Broughton-in-Furness for our tea stop. It was a bit of a shock when I dismounted to find that my legs had turned to jelly. Tea at the cafe, then an absolute b****d hill out of Broughton got me walking for the first time. I don’t know what’s worse: walking with the bike or giving it your all with no spare gears to hand. My legs weren’t quite the same for the rest of the ride.

On we went through the Duddon valley, the ups exceeding the downs as we approached Wrynose. Lovely scenery and the day had been absolutely cracking – a perfect blue-sky day, not so much wind to slow you down, but just enough to stop you cooking. And thank goodness for factor 25; I came through the day relatively unburnt.

I didn’t in the end get as far up Wrynose pass as I would have liked. When I was taught to drive, many years ago, I was encouraged to give way to vehicles struggling up hill. These days few drivers see the need to offer this courtesy, and sure enough, just as I was getting to the limit of my reserves a descending Range Rover forced me to pull over. There was no way at that gradient I could get moving again, and so I had to walk the last bit. I didn’t have a lot left, but who knows? In consolation, even though by this time I was blown that was the last time I got off and walked.

Made it! The top of Wrynose

The downhill that followed was the worst part of the day by far. A 32-degree descent on a winding narrow road, with cars and motor cycles going past in both directions, and brakes smoking – quite literally – and unable to stop me. I don’t know if I’m just being a bit of wuss, but to pull on the brakes with all of your might and find that they don’t have the muscle to slow your progress is quite a worry.

We had done 58.7 miles by our lunch stop at the Three Shires pub, Little Langdale, and although we only had a sandwich, lunch was presented very nicely with a lovely dressed salad. We sat outside and the couple at the next table took our photo and gave a donation to my ARC charity, brilliant. I was at a low point and didn’t want to get back on the bike, but little things like this and other encouraging comments we had along the way helped make it bearable.

Lunch at the Three Shires

I got on, gritted my teeth and hung on for the remainder of the trip. Any speed I had had gone and minor hills that had been no trouble on the way out were now a torment. Getting back seemed to take forever.

Our finishing time was just short of eight hours. I was disappointed with my lack of stamina but delighted to finish.

John had adjusted the route. Rather than ride to Sawrey over a couple of severe hills, he had found a slightly easier route that also shaved four miles off the original. We avoided using the ferry but it was still up and down through Bowness and Lyth Valley before getting home to Carnforth.

John was terrific throughout, nursing and encouraging me all the way, especially towards the end. He got me home and that last climb up the railway bridge hill at Crag Bank was almost a pleasure. (I also think I’ve found the best road sign in the world: Carnforth 10 miles. I think I should register it with Guinness.)

Although he is 71, John was always within himself, and often waiting for me at the top of each ascent. And while at Wrynose even he pushed the bike for the last 75 yards, I suspect if it had been a race he’d have made it.

When we got home we watched the second half of the FA Cup final, and after just one cup of tea he was refreshed and ready to go again. Remarkable.

He is out riding again tomorrow. I think I’ll pass.

Tea: best drink of t'day

The best-laid plans, etc. Having consulted the runes, shaken the seaweed and as a last resort studied the Met Office weather forecast, John has decided the ride to Wrynose will happen early Saturday morning, and may the devil take the hindmost. On second thoughts, that’s likely to be me, so forget that last bit.

The bike is all ready to go, but am I?

A holiday on the Isle of Skye means training once more took a back seat this week. I really should take more holidays – back at work all has been running very nicely in my absence. Delegation is a wonderful thing, especially when your delegates are so good. 

But back to the bikes… Our intention, weather permitting, is to go for the ride this coming Thursday, 28 May. If the weather continues to defy us we will fall back on the option of taking the first day we can next week.

Decision made, we did a standard circuit on Sunday of around 22 miles to get back in the groove. A respectable average speed of 14.2mph, achieved without trying too hard. Training in the gym on Tuesday should be my last chance to hone my fitness before the big day.

You’ll notice, incidentally, that I’m not talking about my weight any more. These days I am pure lean muscle and sinew, and that’s my last word on the subject. Topic closed, thank you very much.

The end is nigh and the ride is imminent. Watch this space and be prepared to make a donation to a worthy cause or two.