The Parkes and Stockham Cycle Part 2: TransAmerica

Date: Friday 13th August 

Route: Baker City, Oregon – Gateway Motel, Idaho

Distance: 87.5 miles

Total climb: 4103ft

Net climb: -1216ft

Having taken full advantage of our second all-you-can-eat breakfast in two days (Parkes living it up with bowls of Cheerios – just like his teenage years), the task was to get hold of some front panniers for Diana and Rosie.  We arrived at Dick’s Cycles, a few blocks down from the Bridge Street Inn, for opening at 9am.  Dick decided to lie in today.  I went on a short skirmish to find an ATM, which was quickly abandoned after surviving a race with a golden retriever that seemed hell-bent on chewing my ankles – good sprint work on the small cleat pedals when wearing my flip flops.

After a dismissive stop at Flagstaff Sports, where we were to learn that Baker City was all out of front panniers, we conceded that it was time to hit the road.  Since we expected to cross into Idaho today and jump forward an hour, our effective leaving time was 11.45am.  This was not good, with the mileage ahead, the heat and the wasted time looking for kit.

However, after a short climb out of Baker City, we were rewarded with the most incredible 30-or-so mile downhill, rolling gradually at north of 20mph through a mountainous and sunny scrubland – absolutely stunning.

We finished up 45 miles before ‘lunch’ in Richland, starting effectively at 3pm at the Short Horn restaurant.  Fantastic service, great chilli for me and Jay seemed to like his sandwich followed by a slice of pie.  In searing heat, we also drank what seemed like our own bodyweights in water and refill sodas.  This was to prepare for a long climb in c.95 degree heat immediately after lunch.

We made it up the climb, drinking vast amounts of Gatorade and water, leaving us with a downhill into Hell’s Canyon… on Friday 13^th, 10 degrees hotter than Richland.   I write this from the valley, which is unbelievably hot – we both had makeshift headscarves to avoid sunstroke this afternoon and never seemed to stop drinking.

After a long downhill into the valley, we missed out on an expected meal at Oxbow to charge onward for our B&B, just over the state border in Idaho.  When you’ve been on a bike for over 65 miles and all you are going to get for supper is a bag of peanuts and some Haribo from your pannier, it doesn’t exactly motivate for a further 18 miles uphill (which is where the fundraising kicks in, along with some teamwork).  Goodbye to Oregon, which has proven to be a beautiful and varied state, with great people (and a few hills here and there!).

Finally, having been told thatfood stopped at our B&B at 8pm this evening, I cannot describe the feeling of arriving at 8.30pm to discover they were willing to put on a couple of sandwiches for us, to give us a third meal for the day and set us up well for tomorrow morning’s big climb (yes, again!).

Loosely noteworthy matters:

–         –  Further talk of cougars, bears, rattlesnakes, bobcats and elk by the lady at lunchtime, yet all I’ve seen are deer, various birds of prey and chipmunks (still quite good)

–          – Concern that we write too much about food and food stops, although when using up 6,000 calories or so per day this is quite important to us.  It is also satisfying to know that we can get away with it for once!

–          – No tv or mobile signal in this valley

–         –  A sign on the door of our room stating that gutting fish and birds in the room is not permitted.  This is not something I have seen regularly, not even in Crianlarich.

–          – Looking like I had a shawl on amusing Jay for most of the afternoon.  I thought I worked it well.

FP

Date: Thursday 12th August 

Route: John Day, Oregon – Baker City, Oregon

Distance: 84 miles

Total climb: 4865ft

Net climb: 445ft

 We managed to haul ourselves out of the exceedingly comfy beds at our motel (I note in passing that Best Western have not paid us in any way for their mentions in this blog, it’s just that the motel was excellent) and after Fred’s mechanical issues the previous day we were desperate to find a bike shop in John Day as soon as possible.  We popped next door to the chamber of commerce to be told that, unfortunately the Strawberry Mount Bike Cooperative was not going to be open, as the proprietor had been taken ill.  Fortunately for us one of the members of the co-op was available to help us, so we wheeled (and in Fred’s case carried) our bikes round to the home of Mytchell Mead.  What followed was a hugely enjoyable couple of hours.  Mytchell worked a miracle with Fred’s rear tire which was truly “tacoed” (horribly bent out of shape) as well as tuning both of our bikes up.  He also regailed us with stories of the tours that he done in the past, his previous career in the high-tech industry before opening a bike shop in Seattle and then moving into metal sculpture (his work is available to view at www.Mytchell.com) and also about his book which is in the process of being published (“The Importance of Flying”).  A huge thank you to Mytchell, not just for sorting the bikes out but also for a few hours of engaging and enjoyable company.

With the bikes fixed, and being given an extra half-hour to check out of the motel, we were back on the road by 11:30, which was great news.   We had adjusted the route to account for the lost time, but this still meant that we had 84 miles to ride, with three significant passes to climb in onlhy two thirds of a day.   We raced to Prairie City – which was our intended destination for the previous day and stopped for supplies before heading on to the first, and largest of our climbs.  Fully stocked we set off toward the Dixie Pass.  Delayed somewhat by two Parkes punctures in the space of two miles, and the awful state of the roads, we still made good time and rolled down the other side of the pass for some lunch in a diner at Austin Junction.  There were a bunch of other cyclists who had also stopped there and whilst we were rather shunned at first we eventually ended up swapping tales about our respective rides to date, albeit in stilted manner.

After lunch we churned our way up both the Tipton and Sumpter Passes and were then rewarded with a long downhill ride into Baker City, the largest town in the area (and the site of the first multi-story building we had seen since our ride began). We made it into town just as the sun was setting and happened almost immediately upon the Bridge Street Inn.  Our evening was spent in the Barley Brown “brew pub” which served up the best meal on the trip to date as well as some authentic and award winner beers, brewed in house.  All in all an excellent result for a day which otherwise could have been wasted.

JBS        

Date: Wednesday 11th August 

Route: Mitchell, Oregon – John Day, Oregon

 Distance: 70 miles

Total climb: 3297ft

Net climb: 364ft

This morning’s start set the tone for the day.  After a debate last night about whether or not to take our one permitted muffin each for breakfast to the room, to avoid them being stolen by other residents, I was disappointed to find that someone had taken one of ours.  Despite the fact that all others staying there were cycling most of the day downhill and had shorter mileage to tackle than us, they clearly felt justified in a second toffee muffin before the off.  Ordinarily, this would be a minor blow, but Mitchell is a small place and food a scarce resource.  I was therefore grateful that Jay could rise above his moral victory and spare some crumbs.

We headed down to the only ‘open’ diner for breakfast to find it was closed – a big hit, given the c.1,700ft climb that separated us from further facilities. Out came the reserves – Nutrigrains for Jay and Clif Bars for me (not very tasty).  I then remembered that there was an espresso drive through, a short downhill ride from where we came yesterday.  Our first silver lining for the day came in the form of hot drinks, sausage and egg sandwiches and a further muffin each.

The climb went well, over Keyes Creek Pass, leading to a massive downhill for many miles towards Dayville and lunch, rolling between fossil-filled cliffs.  Then came the storms.  At first, we were met with a light drizzle and views of fork lightning striking the rocks ahead (somewhat unnerving).  This quickly turned to heavy downpours and the first call for jackets and overshoes on the trip.  At least we were but a few miles from lunch and heading downhill, unlike a group of other cyclists we passed heading in the opposite direction.

Dayville lunch was uneventful, but we knew the storms would be picking up for the afternoon.  We raced on for the next target stop in Mt Vernon, charging up for a final 22 miles to Prairie City.  However, it quickly became apparent that I’d broken a rear wheel spoke again, leading to a delicate ride into some heavy easterlies, fingers crossed for a bike shop in John Day.

On arrival, the bike shop was closed, my wheel was clearly not fit to ride a further 50+ miles to the next shop, so we had to cut the day short.  For those questioning our maintenance skills (probably fairly, given their limits), the issue is having the kit to remove the cassette on the rear wheel and to true it properly – not easy on the road.  First setback of the trip – falling short of target for the day.

Silver lining… some quick thinking by Jay secured us the final hotel room in John Day this evening, which happens to be a Best Western with a pool, jacuzzi and laundry facilities (not much more expensive than the other motels we have been staying in, bizarrely.  It is a little luxurious, but useful to ease a few niggles and prepare for some long catch up days ahead.  We then discovered that our planned residence in Prairie City was without food, adding to the good feeling about being stuck here tonight.

I’m hoping the shop opens early tomorrow, so we can sort the wheel and play catch up.  Speaking of which, we are still placed fourth in ‘the race’ by our calculations, having only been overtaken by three other bikes since Astoria (two of which I think were taking shopping home from the grocery store – any overtaking counts as a place change, whether touring or not). 

Other loosely notable matters:

– front panniers are now the plan, to balance out the weight and try to minimise spoke breakage

– I’ve become a little obsessed with the threat of rattlesnakes, reinforced in Mt Vernon by locals talking of pits of them and how they all come out onto the roads for the warmth in the late afternoons

– being served three courses at once in the restaurant this evening (not at our request), which may lead to some indigestion

– HBO on the tv in this motel, probably resulting in Jay staying up beyond midnight again

– confirmation that the bear in Mitchell did exist, but left when one of the stores in town shut and the owners moved on (Ace seems to be infamous in the badlands)

We’d love to keep hearing from you all and the offer is still open to fly out or head over and join the ride.

FP 

Date: Monday 9th August 

Route: Redmond, Oregon – Mitchell, Oregon

Distance: 69 miles

Total climb: 2716ft

Net climb: -241ft

The day began (after the usual breakfast routine – is it possible to be addicted to French toast?) with a trip to Trinity Bikes in Redmond who managed to sort out Fred’s Diadora shoes free of charge.  Many thanks to them.  They also informed us that the town of Mitchell – where we are currently staying – was the proud host of a caged bear and a man named Ace who would wrestle with it on command.  Despite the obvious cruelty involved in such an exhibition the image was undeniably funny and one that spurred us on throughout the rest of the day.

By this stage of the trip we were clearly in cowboy country with horses in the fields on both sides of the road.  It is unlikely that these noble beasts marvelled at the speed of our progress, but we certainly made good time to our first stop at Prineville – the first town we had been through in 25 miles.  We stopped at the local pizzeria for an early lunch and noted what has been a recurring theme of apparently family oriented restaurants in these parts – a door barring “minors” from entering and then a dark, some might say seedy, drinking den behind.  I assume that this layout recalls the days of Prohibition, but it is an unusual combination nonetheless.  Resisting the temptation for a couple of lunchtime relaxants we headed out on the climb up to the Ochoco Pass (4720 feet).  At stretches of the climb Fred pulled well ahead as I sat in my lower gears to rest my knee and Achilles tendon which have been causing me grief for the last few days.  After a short rest stop, though, we climbed the final 1000 feet together.  Perhaps it was the heat or maybe the opposing wind as we climbed, but as we neared the summit Fred uncharacteristically lashed out at our poor, defenceless Garmin GPS system – “it said the final climb was about four miles ago”.  I can now say in the Garmin’s defence that the error was all mine, and I can only apologise to both Fred and the inanimate object that he maligned.

After reaching the summit we were rewarded with a glorious 11 mile downhill which led us into the badlands of Eastern Oregon.  The landscape is now incredibly dry with steep rocky outcrops all around us.  To either side of us are “Painted Hills” and world renowned fossil deposits.  There is very little civilisation.  The town that we are staying in – Mitchell – could have been taken straight off the set of a Western; the very image of a “frontier” town.  There is one street with a diner/saloon, a hotel and a few shops.  Sadly most of the businesses in the town have recently gone bust and so it was good to see that a large number of cyclists are keeping the hotel and diner afloat.  The food in the diner was great and the owners seemed genuinely grateful that we had paid them a visit.  As for bears, caged or otherwise, the only one we have seen so far is nailed to the wall above Freddie’s bed.  

Date: Monday 9th August 

Route: Vida, Oregon – Redmond, Oregon 

Distance: 75 miles

Total climb: 8605ft

Net climb: 2834ft

After a casual family breakfast at our B&B near Vida, some listening to Ali in the Jungle by The Hours for motivation, a second breakfast near McKenzie Bridge, a couple of plays on the arcade games Mortal Kombat and Track and Field, a shop stop and putting some air in the tires, we felt nearly ready to make the biggest climb of our cycling ‘careers’ to date.  Postponement had gone far enough.

Hoy Stockham had been showing good form in the early stages of the trip, off the back of some solid UK training runs.  Wiggins Parkes had the pink jerseys of old in recognition of his climbing strengths.  It was set to be an epic battle, further intensified by 10 miles uphill on newly gritted roads before the proper ascent began – both of us needing a stop to clean the tar off our tires.

The target was a 5,300ft high pass, first opened for general travel in 1862 and now restricted to vehicles under 35 feet long – clearly not to the liking of all, since there were bullet holes in the sign pointing this out.  The tactics were to sing La Cucaracha at each 1,000 foot marker and then stop at each of 2,500, 3,500 and 4,500 feet for a short break.  The map suggested switchbacks, which are generally very steep, so some trusty Clif Shot Blocks were piled into the back pockets of our jerseys – the watershed between amateur and pro riding in our view (use of jersey back pockets being what all the proper ‘spandex warriors’ seem to do).

It turned out to be a long but relatively painless climb, with minimal traffic, beautiful views, no bears (disappointing for me), pine scents and a short interaction with Nate the cycle tourist on his way down the 22 mile route we were making to the top.  I managed Westwood (riding with the big cog) almost all of the way up, which gives an indication of severity – saving the smaller chain rings for steeper days to come.

Once on the top, we took in the beautiful views in all directions of the snow-capped Sisters and Mt Washington, along with the volcanic Belknap crater and the lava rock landscape.  A quick canter around the summit fort followed, which I had to undertake whilst battling feebly against the pain triggered by getting Jay’s ‘Kiss My Face’ sunscreen in my eye.  I’m not sure what was in that stuff, but I spent the 1,500ft descent into Sisters weeping and watching the road through one eye – not good for judging distances and obstacles at north of 25mph.

A food stop in Sisters (very nice little town) left us both feeling overindulged and made the final scrubland sprint to Redmond tougher than it should have been.  However, we got there and enjoyed a quiet night in a large town staying in the Village Squire motel.

We’re now 3,500 feet up in scrubland, with the temperatures rising, the ranches sprawling and the rattlesnakes on the mind.  Roll on tomorrow.

Other noteworthy matters:

–       The Garmin’s disagreement with altitude markers

–       The first National Rifle Association t-shirt spotted

–       Chipmunks at the summit

–       Jay’s clear victory at Track and Field

–       Damage to the Diardoras (my cycling shoes) – here’s to hoping we get them mended tomorrow, or I my being able to get some replacement Lottos, Golas or Jaguars

FP

Date: Sunday 8th August 

Route: Monmouth, Oregon – Vida, Oregon 

Distance: 97 miles

Total climb: 2405ft

Net climb: 734ft

After my (some would say typical) error in booking a motel in wrong state for yesterday evening, it was quite a relief to wake up in a spacious Comfort Inn room with a diner directly opposite.  We set off straight after breakfast along a quiet country road.  Our surroundings had changed markedly from cliff-side views of the Pacific and steep green hills, to flatter, wider, agricultural landscapes which were considerably less green. 

After a few rolling hills we wheeled into Corvallis to try and get my bike looked at (the gears had been slipping).  After walking around for about half an hour and locating the five bike shops in the town we realised that it was Sunday and that not one of them was open.  The good news was that one shop opened at noon and had a workshop; the bad news was that it was 10:30am.  An executive decision was taken that it was better to get the bikes looked at before our big climb over the McKenzie Pass tomorrow.  We would wait and have brunch in the “Broken Yolk” diner/brunching spot of the young and hip of Corvalis, which incidentally is a lovely town.  This proved to be an excellent choice; the brunches were good (although I was unquestionably out-ordered by Fred) and both bikes needed new chains, whilst mine also needed some adjustments to the gears.

After the considerable delay in Corvalis we positively flew for the rest of the day, under the baking sun.  Fred had curtly informed me that our delay meant that I had “forfeited lunch” and so we stopped only briefly at Harrisburg and Coberg.  The second of these stops provided one of the least pleasant moments of the trip so far in the form of a visit to a plastic cupboard that doubled as both a portaloo and oven.

Just outside of Coberg we met up with the McKenzie River whichwill be our travelling companion for the next 50 miles.  Following it to Walterville we stopped for a quick dinner which included some Buffalo Wings which were far too hot for my palette.  Mocked by Fred and not wanting to appear rude, I ate them anyway – a decision that has subsequently proved to be wrong on a number of levels.

The rest of the day was spent following the wide and winding river up to our accommodation for the evening; the McKenzie River B&B.  We were met with a friendly family welcome, a meal and a ice cold beer – there was not much more we could ask for.  Coupled with that our room has a fantastic view of the river along with a unique style of decor.  A good night’s sleep is in order – we have our biggest climb ever tomorrow – the McKenzie Pass.

JBS

Date: Saturday 7th August

Route: Netarts, Oregon – Monmouth, Oregon

Distance: 90 miles

Total climb: 4649ft

Net climb: 210ft

A few mentions first… a big thank you to the wonderful Helen and the wider ‘Team Robinson’ back in the UK, for their continuing support of the trip.  Whispers of bunting in Yorktown have been heard (to be handmade by Helen), which certainly sharpens the focus just two days into this.  In addition, I’d like to dedicate today’s section of the challenge to Helen’s friend, Katie Paine, who tragically was a victim of meningitis.  Katie’s family have been very supportive of our trip and fundraising efforts.  I’d have loved to have met Katie and I understand she was quite a fan of the US (in particular Florida), so thoughts went out to her today.

On to the ride…

We finally left the Pacific coast behind and headed inland, with the scenery changing from sea views and sea frets to corn fields and rolling hills.  The temperature is also noticeably rising.  We’ve spent most of today on major roads, having to deal with the constant roar of V8s – they are in abundance and are somewhat fun to ride around in, but hard on the nerves and the ears as a cyclist.

The roads remain fairly good and the climbs gradual, which means we get some long downhills – a great incentive on the way up and nothing like the steep stuff we’ve trained on in the UK.

Noteworthy matters from the day:

–          ATVs riding on sand dunes 800ft up in the hills away from the coast.

–       Our first crash into each other, going uphill, leaving Jay with one, now-repaired mud guard.

–          Fat Freddy’s cafe in Pacific City, sadly closed.

–          My intake of poached eggs on a muffin and then a ‘short stack’ for brunch.

–          Jay’s consumption of a salad, a chicken burger and fries and a pie for early afternoon tea.

–          Jay’s booking of a hotel with a swimming pool for the evening, in Monmouth, Illinois.  We were staying in Monmouth, Oregon.  This was a slight downer after racing the final few miles into town, but I’ll shortly be using my mask and snorkel in the shower of this substitute, Comfort Inn

–          Kenny Loggins playing live at a Casino in Grande Ronde – quality travels, especially when Playing with the Boys

–          Maintenance – brake alignment for Parkes and seat adjustments for Stockham

–          Growing levels of ‘badger’ incidents

–          J’s 99 Grill in Monmouth, where we will shortly be heading for an evening meal

Time for some recuperation and the evening routine of washing, maintenance and watching sports channels on the tv – a must for this evening, given that we nearly ended up with nowhere to stay.  Saturday night in Monmouth is no Blue Bell at 8pm.

FP

Date: Friday 6th August

Route: Astoria, Oregon – Netarts, Oregon

Distance: 84 miles

Total climb: 4530ft

Net climb: 70ft

Still subject to a touch of jetlag, we were both awake early and in for breakfast at a diner opposite the motel.  A spot of early pannier maintenance (unsurprisingly I had once again fitted them incorrectly) was followed by a pleasant ride along quiet roads before reaching the well-named town of Seaside.  A ride along the promenade was followed by a more laborious trek along the main coastal road SR 101.  The views of the Pacific were glorious, but it was a busy road, and it seems that it might take a while to get used to the noise of the enormous trucks that seem to be de rigueur with the folks over here.

The only problem we encountered was Fred’s back wheel, which after quite a loud bang on a slow downhill, decided that it would rather wobble than run true.  We knew we had to stop at a bike shop, but the nearest was 26 miles away, so we soldiered on.

We stopped for lunch at Nehalem, which we later found out is s town rumoured to be the final resting place of a legendary treasure, hidden there by “white men” a long time before Lewis and Clark ever made it to the Pacific .  People have spent their entire lives searching for this lost hoard, but Fred and I left without so much as digging a trench after an excellent lunch in a small diner.

Our route then took us off the main road for a 20 mile stretch, during which we were surrounded by beautiful scenery.  To both sides of us were steep hills covered in trees, with their tops shrouded in mist.  It made for a pleasant hour away from SR 101.  All too soon we were back on the main road and rolling into Tillamook.  Here we found the bike shop Fred (and his back wheel) needed and a bizarre coffee shop, whose owner did not seem particularly keen to sell any drinks at all. 

 The final stretch of the day from Tillamook to our motel in Netarts (pronounced Nee-tarts) was an ocean-side road followed by a climb up onto the cliffs.  We were rewarded, though with an ocean view from our motel room and a top-notch dinner in the Schooner restaurant.  It being a Friday night we even treated ourselves to some beers and a few frames of pool (Fred won 2-1).  Day one done, only 46 cycling days to go.  Good news all round, with the only disconcerting issue being the fact that due to a quirk of the TransAmerica route, we had ended the first day further West than when we started!

On Wednesday 5^th August, both Fred (via a stop in New York for some handbag shopping) and I (direct from Heathrow) flew out to Seattle.  We were met by my uncle Malcolm who drove us North to his house in Olympia and what followed was a thoroughly enjoyable maelstrom of great food (French toast for breakfast seems likely to become part of my staple diet), building the bikes (which seemed to have survived transit almost intact), getting them serviced (many thanks in that regard to the boys at Alpine Experience who gave their labour free of charge) , last minute buying of equipment, playing with my cousins Valentina and Anasacha (who I am sure were cheating on the Nintendo Wi) and finally driving down to Astoria with Malcolm.  Huge thanks to Rosemary, Malcolm and the kids, without whom we would simply not have been in a position to do the ride.

After all that activity Fred and I were finally ensconced in the Rivershore Motel, Astoria on the evening before the start of our journey.  We wandered through “historic” Astoria, which though a little run-down had retained the charm that older American towns have –especially along its Main Street; a sense that the 1930’s never actually came to an end.  Big bowls of pasta (served by a waitress who seemed somewhat new to the game of waiting tables) and some serious repacking were followed by a fairly early evening.  We had big plans for the next day.

And so, on 24^th August, the time had come for our final training weekend.  The aim, a 240 mile round trip over two days, from Stokesley/Carlton to Tealby (in Lincolnshire) and back.  We got away at about 8am after I had taken an age faffing around with my bike, but once we were rolling we made excellent time.  The mandatory tea-cake break was taken in Thirsk, before facing the somewhat demoralising 18 mile stretch of the route along the A19.  We knew we had to turn off at a church and despite numerous imaginary spires appearing to Fred as we trundled along, the real thing seemed to take an age to come into view.  After finally turning off that stretch of road and its endless droning traffic we were back on quiet country byways, in the sunshine, and so it remained for the rest of the journey.  Lunch was taken in Pocklington and at that stage we reckoned that we were a little ahead of time.  We knew we had a few miles to the Humber Bridge and then a long slow climb onto the Lincolnshire Wolds but that was not too daunting a prospect.  We had forgotten about the Yorkshire Wolds.  A forgivable lapse of geographical memory, but quite an addition to our afternoon’s climbing.  The rolling hills leading up to the Humber Bridge provided some beautiful views, but meant that our tanks were fairly low by the time we crossed the Humber.  The climb back onto the Lincolnshire version of the Wolds was as slow and grinding as expected, but finally we were on the 3 mile (according to FredFred – its actually about a mile) downhill descent into Tealby.  We had made it in just under 11 hours, which given that we also had a total ascent of over 4000 feet was good going.

That evening we were staying with Fred’s dad and the rest of the family Parkes and after a quick shower and some indecision as to where we would eat, we headed out to the Lincolnshire party capital that is Market Rasen. One excellent curry later, and resisting the temptation to large it in one of the Rasen’s finer nightspots, it was back to our log cabin at the Parkes’ and bed.  Huge thanks to Fred, Helen and Lucinda for their evening of hosting and putting up with us, despite our general lethargy and tiredness-induced lack of banter.  

On Sunday it was a question of doing the whole thing again, in reverse.  The weather was hotter and at times we wilted somewhat.   But ultimately we powered home, with Fred sprinting up the intimidating Faceby bank to round off the journey.  The day brought nothing new in terms of the route, but we did enjoy being socially shunned by a gent in a shop-mobility scooter, who deliberated scooted around us so as not to speak to us, and we also encountered a group of South Yorkshire ladies who would have been a cartoonist’s dream.  If only talking in a raspy voice was an Olympic sport…

We had managed 240 miles in two days (with a fair bit of climbing), but 47 days of cycling in a row was going to be a very, very different prospect.