RAB write-up, day 4: Ludlow to Haydock

Planned route: 106.9mi, 3,133ft
Actual route: 107.5mi, 3,048ft

Only in RAB-world is 107 miles the "easy day" but that's how I was viewing day 4, because of its relatively minor elevation, markedly less than any other day. This also made for another later start, and a few extra precious moments in bed; the gate opened at 7, but I was up, prepped, breakfasted and heading out from Ludlow racecourse at 6.49am. It was another cool, misty start...

I don't know whether I'm starting to equate grippy hills with memorable moments, but in some ways day 4 was less memorable. Sure, the route ran close by Stiperstones, a distinctive hill not far from Shrewsbury; then there was the Warburton Bridge, over the Manchester Ship Canal. Actually, it was a day of many river crossings, some big, some small, some with fine bridges to accompany them, some not. The thing that sticks most in the mind from day 4 though, more than these things, is the abysmal quality of the roads in Cheshire. Yes, the route took us on some minor roads, that's true, but honestly, the quality of the tarmac left so much to be desired. And let me tell you, when you've got your skinny tyres pumped up hard to avoid punctures, and your rear end is blistered and sore, every crash and bang over the uneven, rutted, pot-holed, cheaply-surfaced miles of Cheshire's awful roads was magnified ten fold. By the end of the day I was getting quite sweary. And it wasn't only my tail-end that was suffering - some of these lumps and bumps were so big as to cause my bike to change gear, triggering my front gear shifter and derailling me from my big ring to the little; this is funny the first couple of times it happens, but after the tenth... and twentieth... I wasn't laughing.

It was another day of pain management, of course, with soluble aspirin added to my water at every pit stop. They helped a bit... but any gain from them was more than offset by the discomfort and additional chafing that came from it being such a hot day. The heat was fierce, and the extra sweating and swelling really didn't help my blistered contact points. But enough of that.

What does stick in my mind from day 4 is my extra, personal, third pit-stop of the day. There were probably only fifteen miles left, certainly less than twenty, but as I've mentioned it was very, very hot and I was suffering. So when I came to a crossroads with a little Budgens on the corner, well, I just had to take the opportunity to get out of the saddle for a bit... and I bought an orange Calippo. Such was my need at that moment, that simple orange Calippo rates as one of the top ten food experiences of my life. It was pure heaven, the perfect combination of a desperate need and an icy cold, sugary sweet, lipsmackingly-good, orangey way to meet it. God, it was terrific.

Day 4's basecamp, reached after nine and a quarter hours on the road, seven hours fifty moving, was another racecourse, the slightly grander Haydock Park. Somewhat inconveniently, they were a a bit precious about the grass on the course itself, so whilst all the tents were laid out in the centre of the race course, there was a fairly long and very much unwanted walk around to the grandstand and other buildings for food, medics, and charging. Still, the racecourse also did the catering, which meant sitting up in the grandstand dining rooms to eat, rather than in the usual giant marquee. So, swings and roundabouts, I guess. But the incessant pain from my saddle area meant that I took the long walk back to Blue 98 very slowly that evening.

Speaking of Blue 98, this seems an apposite moment to show you what it looked like in use:

Lots to note here. Yes, I was drying things on the tent roof, like many other people. Yes, I was charging my solar powerbank. Yes, my cleats and crocs were outside, because both smelled. I had to surgically remove the fleece lining from the latter before the end of the week, as being stuffed back into a plastic bag wet every morning meant that they quickly became, well there's no other word for it, rancid. And they went in the bin at the end of the week too.

Anyway, day 4 ended much as day 3 had done: with me feeling very sore and more than a little sorry for myself. Day 5 loomed, the longest day in terms of distance, and hillier again too. To top it all off, my worst blister was now weeping almost continuously as well. Suffice to say I got an early night, and spent most of a poor sleep wondering how I would cycle 116 miles in the morning...