Nordkapp – Going deep…
Let’s start this with the stats. 25mph headwinds all day, I only went west so it was one direction, in my face. Over 100 miles carrying 32kg bags. 319g carbs consumed (so far) on 4.8u insulin. Average BG urmm 4.2. Average speed (sucked) 17.8kph.
Looking at timings for ferries and how far I would have to go I had a hard choice, ok not really. Go big today and make life easy to get to a ferry tomorrow night, miss it as I would have to much to do, or wait until next Monday for the next bike space on one…I had to go big. Ok 100 miles isn’t that big, it’s a normal ride usually but with these wind conditions and this much luggage, and not sure on my fitness still and the fact I haven’t had a proper rest day since Copenhagen. Was it possible?
After the first 20km of wind battering I rolled into Coevorden and it was market day. Some of the bike paths were closed off which made you go around all the stalls, sneaksie! Not like I don’t draw attention anyhow being the only cyclist in most of these towns in lycra, wearing English across all my jerseys, a bike coming in with a weight of a super tanker and then there’s that Hope Pro 4 click, it makes people notice, or clear out of your way when they hear you freewheeling up to them. Gotta love it!
After that it was just relentless long straight bike paths with headwinds. Again and again, town after town. I got a break at lunch time in a forest which just showed exactly how to make a bike path in a wooded area. No tarmac! Worked a charm.
I got into one stretch of farm road which was pretty much silt and I almost went over straight away. Couldn’t cope with it at all! Major tank slapper moment and I think the only thing keeping me upright was one of my front panniers dug into the ground. Soon gave up on it and moved onto a nearby gravel footpath.
By mid afternoon I was hurting. Every joint, elbows, shoulders, wrists and as ever my knees. There was a few times I wondered why the hell do I put myself through this. I was hurting both physically and mentally, and my bloods as ever in the low 3’s not helping at all. I muttered, I sang (don’t ask). I crossed this bridge and rounded this sharp little corner into an old street and wow. It was stunning. I have just come into Kampen and it was such an amazing find that it raised my spirits as I went for a noise around.
Just before Almare, this Porto Rican guy buzzes up on his moped. The small mopeds can use bike paths, although like I’ve little lass this morning she was ragging it down them on something very derestricted. The guy with the moped was curious about what I was doing, why all the kit, he was part of this moped gang in should drop around and see in Rotterdam, and stopping for a chat have him a chance of light up something I doubt was tobacco. He was a good laugh and a nice break near the end of the day.
Into as Almare I joined a local TT training group… With the Dexcom acting up again and my bloods in the 2’s from the finger stripes, let alone the distance in my legs and my luggage, I decided for once not to mix it in with the locals was wanting too though.
By time I found the hotel I was wrecked. Bloods were at 2.3 with a down arrow. I had nothing left in my legs. I pretty much stumbled into the hotel and went after check-in to the bar and hit the orange juice…worked a charm!
Today wasn’t so much changing diabetes, more suffering everything it threw and keeping on rolling no matter what it, mother nature or my body screamed at me to stop.
Written on May 27th, 2019 by Allan