Hard going on the Bealach

I didn't get a chance to post anything yesterday on the blog: it was late and I was shattered by the time I got back to my folks' place. So here is my update on yesterday's (not so) dry run on the Bealach.

I got to Shieldaig about 4pm and set off at about 4:30. There is a gentle and steady climb out of the village and some undulating terrain before you hit the Bealach turn-off after about 14km. The climb itself is steady but not too steep for the first few kilometres, and I kept a general pace of about 15kmph, watching an eagle gliding below me and dark clouds gathering above. The road eventually makes its way into the glen below the pass, at which point the gradient begins to kick up. I had read that the long straight climb at this point is worse than the hairpins, but had assumed that it was because psychologically it would just be a slog. Nope: it's this point that the road is at its steepest, steep enough that the front wheel was lifting off the ground when I put too much force through the pedals. My speed had dropped to 7kmph and I was genuinely wondering if I was going to crack. Just at the point where I thought I was going to have to stop, the gradient eased off as I reached the hairpins which, to be honest, were a skoosh after the straight. Looking back down, the gradient of the straight was apparent. You do need a little bit of a head for heights at this stage, as the terrain plummets below you and the crash barrier sits disconcertingly below knee height. The photo above looks down on these; I'm not sure how well it conveys the difficulty of the climb and bear in mind that this, to me, was the easy bit. After the hairpins, the road levels off for a more gentle climb to the actual summit. Now, I had noticed the temperature dropping as I came towards the hairpins, my breath visible in the air; by the time I reached the summit it was cold enough that the rain that had started to fall had turned to snow. As I stopped in the car park at the top to down some energy gel, the snow got heavier. I toyed with the idea at that point of going down the way I had come up, which would have made for a shorter day in the saddle. I was nervous about the prospect of the remaining miles being a slog through wind and rain, but part of the reason I had done the climb was to get a feel for the descent, so I committed myself to doing the full route and dropped down towards Applecross. It was probably one of the coldest, wettest and most miserable times of my life. The road was slick with sleet and I had limited visibility, so I couldn't go at any real speed; my brakes were on all the way down and were gradually dissolving under the pressure. By the time I reached the bottom of the descent my fingers were blue, my toes were numb and I was shivering badly, which is not good: once you get cold, you get tired, and it is very hard to get your body out of that state. Still, I turned towards the coastal route back to Shieldaig and picked up my speed again to try to warm up. Actually, I was going much quicker now than I had on the descent. The sun came out, after a fashion, but there was a fierce headwind that kicked in when I crested the next rise in the road. That was basically the story for the next 15 miles: a 20-25 mph headwind made for a tough ride, made tougher by the constantly undulating terrain, with short steep climbs killing any momentum. My legs still felt heavy and dull after the cold and without anyone else around to draft and work with, it was just a psychological battle, as the miles went past much more slowly than usual.

At last the road bent round towards the east and that wind stopped blowing in my face. The last ten miles were a bit easier, though just when I thought I was starting to make time back and pick up my speed, I hit a couple of nasty climbs with brutal gradients, the front wheel lifting again until I came out of the saddle. I also nearly got taken out by a psychopathic sheep. Eventually, much later than I had hoped for, I rolled back into Shieldaig and enjoyed the glorious refreshment of a Snickers bar and a cup of coffee. At the time I thought, I really don't want to do this again next week. But a day has passed and now I'm looking forward to it again. And at least, should anything happen over the next week, should I get a cold or an injury, I can still say I have ridden the Bealach, and claim that sponsorship with integrity!

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