I’ve had mixed experiences with bikepacking luggage in the past. While the ability to carry enough sleeping kit, food and clothing for a night under the stars (or under thick cloud) brings a whole other dimension and level of scope to ‘epic’ bike rides,  sometimes the practicalities of strapping bags of stuff to a bicycle leave much to be desired.

One of the most common (and often most cost-effective) methods involved strapping a standard drybag to your handlebars. Inside you’d put your bivvy bag and if your drybag was big enough you’d be able to fit in a sleeping mat and perhaps a warm coat too. Some improvisation might be needed to stop the drybag bouncing around. You might need to be careful that you don’t snag your brake levers. If you’re really unlucky (like I was once) you might pull your brake hose out of the lever and have to ride home using your feet as a brake. You’ll definitely rub some of the paint off your frame and/or fork.

Similarly, you might use a harness-type of seatpack which allows you to bung clothing and maybe food in another bag and strap that to your seatpost. You’ll need to be careful how much you put in there and strap it up REALLY tight though; a swinging pendulum of woolly hats, spare underpants and pork pies high up on the bike adds a level of ‘interest’ to your offroad handling.

You’ll have fun though, bivvying is always fun if you’re that way inclined.

I kind of lived with all of these drawbacks and compromises until the first time I used the new Ortlieb seatpack, bar bag and accessory pack. None of the niggles I’ve mentioned above apply anymore – the Ortlieb bags are designed to be completely stable and secure in use, large enough to accommodate everything you might need, have an uncomplicated and unobtrusive attachment system. They’re also 100% waterproof, a characteristic of all Ortlieb products.

I can fit a rolled-up bivvy bag, sleeping bag and ¾ length self-inflating mat into the bar bag, along with a down jacket. Impressive. The pack isn’t small but the clever attachment  straps place the bag sort of underneath instead of in front of the bars, away from controls and lights so in this position the dimensions of the bag are hardly noticeable. Attachment takes a few seconds and there are plenty of thick pads to protect handlebars and paint. There’s a roll-top closure at each end of the bag which aids access and also makes putting a rolled-up bivvy bag bag inside a lot easier.

Stability is exceptional, even on very rocky terrain. A few kilogrammes of extra weight hanging from the handlebars is never going to be ‘invisible’ when it comes to bumpy terrain and cornering at speed, but there aren’t any surprises (such as the bag bouncing) and once your brain has adjusted to it, things are fine.

Attached to the front of the bar bag is the Accessory Pack. Large enough to fit a headtorch, a spare pair of gloves, a phone, some sandwiches and a map just where you want them, it’s also totally waterproof and it comes with an extra strap so you can use it as a bumbag if you like bumbags…

Under the saddle (and extending quite a long way backwards from the saddle) is the seatpack. This thing is massive – open it up and it looks like a feeding basking shark. You really can get a lot of stuff in there which can he handy for long multi-day expeditions or if you simply can’t leave the house without a dinner suit. Roll it up and close it and again it’s completely waterproof. Handy if it’s going to be sprayed with water from the back wheel for hours on end – it’s also big enough to provide almost complete water and mud protection for your bum/back. There are a couple of reflective patches and loops for lights as well, which is a nice touch.

There’s also an elasticated strap on the top of the bag for securing a jacket (or anything else you want to put there, really).

In spite of its capacity and potential size, the huge Velcro and webbing straps (which have locking buckles) that secure the bag to the saddle rails and seatpost do an admirable job of keeping swaying and weight shifts to a minimum. I also didn’t have to re-tension any straps at any point during a long offroad ride.

The standard of manufacture – the straps, closures, buckles and fabric – is probably the best you’re ever likely to see. You’re not going to wreck them in a hurry unless you’re exceptionally unlucky/clumsy. They come with a 5 year guarantee anyway.

Ortlieb have clearly only released these bags once they were certain that they were absolutely perfect – there’s no doubt that it’s a range of serious outdoors kit. There’s a frame pack scheduled for release next year – I expect that will be just as good.

I’m going to hammer these bags in a few local and not-so-local long-distance rides this year –  and I’ve already sold my old drybags and straps.

The last two times I’ve taken part in the 3 Peaks Race it’s been painful and in some respects a quite miserable experience but at the same time one of those races that’s so tough that it’s very addictive.

In previous years I’ve trained for it, in fact the first time I was under no illusions as to the magnitude of the challenge so trained quite hard for it. The second time I was far too distracted by cycling and was pitifully underprepared; as a result my first attempt was the time to beat.

I thought that this year I’d trained properly. I’ve run further in the first 4 months of 2016 than I’ve ever run in any year, ever. Ok, it’s only a few hundred miles and I’ve been fitting it in among all the other cycling hours I’ve had to do but it’s been ok. I’ve even managed three or four half marathons – one of them was quite hilly too! Perfect.

Or was it?

Not really. I reckon I’d put in the hours and the miles and my ‘marathon’ pace is quite quick nowadays, for me anyway. What last weekend’s race did expose however was my woeful lack of hours running in the ‘proper’ hills and my crappy descending technique (I already knew about that one to be fair).

After surprisingly starting even further back than I normally do, I got to the top of Pen Y Ghent quicker than usual. I’ve never been bad at running uphill (in fact the steeper and longer the climb the better), but my memories of intense thigh pain caused by trying to bomb back down again in previous years meant that I seemed to be subconsciously adopting a weird speed-limiting and eventually muscle-damaging disposition on the way back down. There was a lot of snow and slush near the summit and there was a weather front closing in rapidly but the first mountain passed underfoot without too much trouble at all.

Regardless, I soon made it to the bottom of the descent and across the moor – I still felt strong by the time I reached Ribblehead and the start of the second peak where Dave, Angela and Debbie all bestowed gels upon me.

I hate the term in a racing context but I reckon I SMASHED the Whernside climb (a friend who was watching the online split timing told me that I’d overtaken 80 people, in fact) and somehow found the spare breath to encourage a few other lads who seemed to be struggling. It was a near-vertical wall of snow and mud, to be fair to them. Once at the top I dibbed my transponder and enjoyed the high winds, horizontal hail, snow, ice, mud and near-darkness while I trotted along, trying to get my (by now, purple) legs working properly again, in shorts. Madness.

pic:Sportsunday

Things started to fall apart on the Whernside descent. It’s rough at the best of times and this time it was covered in ice, snow and wet, slippery mud- halfway down my thighs had started to get pissed off (but at least I didn’t slip and fall on my arse like a lot of other folk were doing). Reaching the foot of Whernside with lactic acid squirting out of my toenails I tried to ignore the pain until I met Deb again at the Hill Inn for another gel. “Don’t worry, you can have a chippy tea later” I thought to myself as I squirted the sickly goo down my throat and got cracking with the final climb to the summit of Ingleborough.

I like this climb normally. It’s a relief to my quads as they’re being used differently and aren’t being torn apart by my comedy descending. The trouble was, I was stuck in a fair amount of traffic now and due to the slippery, wet conditions there weren’t many safe opportunities to overtake. Where there was a chance to get past other people I did do, but mainly I settled into the procession. The descent was agony, as was the last 5 or so miles across the rock-strewn moor to the finish.

pic:Simon Fox

I crossed the line after 4 hours 15 minutes, 17 minutes slower than my previous best time in spite of training harder. Granted the conditions weren’t conducive to a record time (but that didn’t seem to slow the ‘proper’ runners down) but I know what to work on to get faster and in spite of my grumpy muttering as I approached the finish, I’m sure I’ll be lining up at the start of the 2017 race. Addicted, y’see.

We’d had this ride planned for ages. Probably about a year. We should have done it late last summer but Guy got spannered a few weeks before so it was moved to last weekend.

Like all the best plans, it was a simple but ambitious one. Ride from somewhere on the east coast of the UK, finish at Cairnryan ferry port on the west coast of Scotland, sail across to Northern Ireland and ride to Portrush on the north coast. While we were going we’d ride as many trail centre red routes as we could (hopefully all of them) – there are 7 in the Scottish borders and 4 in Northern Ireland.

As well as doing something as silly as this because, well, it’s silly, we’d be helping to raise money for the RideForMichael charity – helping Michael Bonney pedal a bike again.

Apart from the fact that we were going to be joined by various other riders along the route, we didn’t really have a plan at all until the day before the ride started but we soon got our arses into gear and Guy decided to ride to the start of the ride while I was still at work on Wednesday. As warm-ups go, 190 miles from Grimsby to Berwick-Upon-Tweed is somewhat on the big side. It was 5am Thursday morning before I’d packed and then driven there to meet him for a pre-ride MacDonald’s breakfast.

Once started we kept the pace ‘friendly’ and it was almost noon before we met Sam and his dad at Innerleithen, where we’d ride the first red route. Neither of us had met Sam before but luckily we all hit it off and carried on ticking off the miles while Terry drove the van to the next trail centre.

While we were riding across Scotland the constant presence of a van full of teabags, cake and clothing gave us a degree of comfort, especially when me and Guy allowed ourselves a couple of hours sleep in it.

We carried on grinding out the road miles and riding trail centres. We visited pie shops, were given chocolate and we drank tea. Lots of tea.

We tried to sleep in bivvy bags in Newcastleton Forest at minus four degrees when most of the civilised world would have been in the pub or watching Ant and Dec.

We booked a ferry – then realised this was going to be tight. We had to be at the ferry terminal by 11pm to catch the midnight ferry to Northern Ireland. At Ae Forest, we were met by Michael and an ITV local news crew – an hour or so later we were on our way again…..

We had a 90 mile sprint along the A75 if we were going to have a chance of making it to the ferry. Heads down, pedal.

Dave and Phil had joined us and were toiling at the front of our small peloton while HGVs passed us at speed.

Then it started to rain. Pedal harder.

Before long, the ITV news report about what we were doing had been broadcast so cars started to beep their horns and increasing numbers of (no doubt bloody freezing) well-wishers appeared in laybys. We were freezing too – we needed the rain to stop.

We arrived at Cairnryan ferry terminal on time, where we said our goodbyes to Sam and Terry who had both made the journey across Scotland an absolute pleasure.

The P&O staff soon whisked us onto the boat and gave us the Club Lounge, complete with complimentary wine, nibbles and a full Ulster breakfast (imagine a full English breakfast but with chips). They even took our wet and stinking cycling clothes and washed and dried them. P&O’s captain Colin and his crew are the greatest!

After we’d had a kip and we’d pulled our now-clean clothes back on, we met Geoff, Dave and Mike – all members of the RideForMichael fundraising team – who would ride with us on the Ireland leg of our journey.

After a cuppa at Geoff’s, we were on our way again. First stop was the local mini-trail centre then we were off towards the bigger stuff. Growing up in England, it’s easy to imagine Northern Ireland as some kind of burnt-out cars and barbed wire warzone, but in reality the scenery and terrain there is eye-poppingly beautiful. Mountains, valleys and vast expanses of green as far as the eye can see.

Onwards we rode, ticking off big climbs and more trail centres. Castlewellan was my favourite trail centre of the entire trip – lovely, fast and flowing, the flow only interrupted by me crashing full-pelt into a tree.

More tea stops. More Guy fans asking for selfies.  More cake. More road miles and plenty of sunshine. A massive, picture-postcard descent into Rostrevor.

Go to Northern Ireland – it’s belting.

Things started to get strung out in the small hours of Sunday morning as the end of the ride approached. After a very welcome tea and cake stop (perhaps the 25^th tea and cake stop for me and Guy since we left Berwick on Thursday, 500 miles ago.), a couple of riders fell asleep while riding, one almost hit the wall entirely. Everyone was tired, in fact I worked out that I’d had 5 hours sleep since Wednesday morning. Dave S and Guy trying to grab 40 winks in the most revolting disused steel bus shelter in the world was a particularly worrying moment but eventually everyone made it to Geoff’s mum’s house in Portrush, where we had steak, chips, mushy peas and Stella Artois for breakfast. Result!

I consider myself very lucky to have been involved in this ride. Not only were we raising money to help a friend in his time of dire need, but we were forging new friendships, stepping a long way out of our comfort zones and having the time of our lives. And eating a lot of food.

Thanks to all the lads and lasses involved – Geoff, Sam, Terry, Mike, Dave S, Dave’s mum, Dave P, Phil, Guy. Thanks to Margaret for cooking the epic finish line breakfast, Sharon for picking me and Guy up from Scotland to take us home and thanks most of all to Michael Bonney for giving us all the inspiration and determination to finish the job.

You can still donate to the RideForMichael trust – https://www.gofundme.com/getmichaeltopedal

The Tour Divide is off the menu for me this year. It’s a long story, it was kind of out of my hands but there’s no fallings-out or drama over a bike ride. I’ll just do other stuff. Guy’s still going to do it and I’ll help him to prepare for it as much as he needs me to.

We’re both riding coast to coast in Scotland, including all of the 7 Stanes red trails, then hopping on a ferry to Northern Ireland and riding coast to coast there too (including the red-grade trail centres over there) in a couple of weeks. Back in time for work on Monday. The ride is in aid of the Ride For Michael charity and we’re being joined along the way by various mates and cheerers-on. It’ll be ace. In fact donate some money on the Ride for Michael website in recognition of me and Guy having to put up with each other’s shit jokes for 4 days. 

Then I’ll be doing the 3 Peaks fell race, just to get this running thing out of my system for another few months.

I’m going to ride the Rumble in the Jungle MTB stage race in Sri Lanka in June (which coincidentally starts on the same day as the TDR). I’ve ridden my bike for long distances on repeated days before loads of times, but I’ve never taken part in a stage race nor have I ever been to a country where I need loads of inoculations beforehand, so that’ll be novel. I’ll be riding as a Singletrack Magazine “our man in the East” reporter so expect to see loads of inane drivel and photos of me riding bikes and eating curry later on…

I’m also planning to head down to Switzerland a week or so after Sri Lanka to have a crack at the European 24 Hour Solo Championship. I assume it’ll be a hilly one, that.

Apart from these adventures I’ll be lining up at as many UK MTB Marathon, 24 hour and XC events as I can before the grand finale to 2016, the UK 24 hour Champs in Fort William in October.

The Tour Divide however is right under my skin now, so the plan (my plan) is to do it next year, providing I can raise the necessary backing (and cash!) to do so.

I don’t know where the ‘gravel racing’ scene came from, to be honest. I reckon people have been riding bikes on gravelly terrain way before it became an actual thing, but then I don’t work in marketing so probably lack some insight into such things. Gravel bikes, as far as I can tell, are cyclocross bikes but maybe a bit slacker with disc brakes. I think slacker, disc-equipped ‘cross bikes were known as ‘cyclocross bikes’ not that long ago, but then gravel was invented. Probably. I’ve no idea what that stuff was at the bottom of our fishtank cos I thought that was gravel. Can fish ride bikes?

Anyway, riding a skinny-tyred (actually, skinny tyres aren’t as skinny as they used to be either) bicycle on some gravel is good fun, especially in the company of like-minded people also riding cyclocr…..I mean, gravel bikes.

While everyone else has been getting right back into racing and riding bikes in organised events, I haven’t been really. The break from the routine of training and racing that I blathered on about on here a few weeks ago didn’t end as quickly as I thought it would – I did more running than I normally do and I feel much better for it, thank you. I’m busy putting the miles in again now though (while still running – I’ve got the 3 Peaks fell race in a few weeks) and I entered and made the symbolic step of actually turning up to an event last weekend. Not a race as such, an ‘offroad sportive’, a long-distance cyclocross ride or the closest we in the UK can get to a ‘gravel race’.

It wasn’t a race, which was a bloody good job because I’d done my legs in by running 15 miles offroad the day before and I’d had the genius idea of riding 30 miles to the start with Phil, which always means a pacy ol’ pace.

After some coffee at the Green Jersey bike shop and meeting Dave and Daz, off we went. 60 miles of really steep roads and gravel tracks in the hills around Clitheroe, some singletrack and even a brief excursion on a man-made mountain bike trail, surrounded by armour-clad mountain bikers.

Darren’s back wheel fell apart. My legs weren’t doing what I wanted them to. Phil and Dave were waiting at the top of every hill. I considered my immediate future while drinking tea at the halfway feed station in Slaidburn (home of the poshest village hall in the world).

I was hurting really bad, I was slow, my brakes didn’t work AT ALL and I had another 30 miles to ride home. That’s if I rode straight home, which I didn’t.

10 miles or so later I arrived back in Clitheroe, accompanied by Daz and his now-terminal rear hub. I had the nicest bowl of curried parsnip and lentil soup I’ve ever had and got on with the 2 hour ride home on by-now busy roads on a cyclocross bike with no brakes.

It’s great to be back!