We’re in Loch Lomond for the Big Ride as Christina Mackenzie gears up for a crack at the LEJOG record
Trevor Ward clings to the wheel of Christina Mackenzie in Loch Lomond ahead of her imminent tilt at the long-standing women’s LEJOG record
Today’s ride is punctuated by beeps from my companion’s Garmin. It starts on the first climb of the day and I’m worried it’s some kind of anti-stall warning because we are riding too slowly. My co-rider Christina Mackenzie is, after all, a 24-hour TT national champion who probably doesn’t need a slacker like me holding her back. She’s in the middle of a block of training for her latest challenge, an attempt to break the 17-year-old women’s record for cycling from Land’s End to John O’Groats.
But Christina couldn’t be more welcoming. As well as reassuring me that her pace for the LEJOG record attempt will be a modest 26.6kph (albeit almost non-stop over the course of 52 hours), she has also brought a gift – a huge cylinder of black pudding from her hometown of Stornaway in the Outer Hebrides. It fits perfectly into my spare bottle cage.
And by the time we arrive at our lunch stop, I have learned that all that beeping is merely her computer digitally grasping around
in the ether for her heart monitor. Heart rate will be the key metric during the 1351km that she hopes to cover in a faster time than the current record of 52 hours 45 minutes.
Today’s ride is a more relaxed affair – a 117km figure of eight through the heart of one of the most beautiful parts of the UK, the Loch Lomond and Trossachs National Park where we will traverse a landscape of rugged peaks and glittering lochs. I can forgive Christina for perhaps not enjoying the views quite as much as I am.
Millennia of volcanic, seismic and meteorological phenomena have sculpted the topography of Great Britain, producing a rugged landscape stretching from the desolate moors of Cornwall to the lochs and peaks of today’s location.
Yet Christina will be seeking to avoid as much of this natural grandeur as possible as she rides the length of the country.
For her, it’s all about getting from A to B as quickly as possible, sticking to fast, main roads and avoiding anything that points upwards for any length of time. Despite this, she will still have to
climb 9000 metres. So as much as she appreciates the scenery today, those niggling beeps from her Garmin are a constant reminder that next month’s ride will be purely business, not pleasure.
A pew with a view
We are enjoying lunch in the spring sunshine on the banks of Loch Katrine after having ridden surely one of the most enjoyable stretches of road in the United Kingdom - 20km along the loch’s northern shore on a twisting, undulating ribbon of tarmac that is closed to motorised traffic.
While tucking into a chicken ciabatta sandwich and large latte, Christina describes the enormity of the challenge facing her. She has a target time of 52 hours, of which 50 will be spent pedalling on the bike. “The longest I’ve previously ridden is 27 hours, so I have no idea how sleep deprivation will affect me,” she says. “I’ve been training by riding through the night and working with a nutritionist using caffeine supplements, but it will very much be a journey into the unknown.”
She will also have to stick to rigid rules laid down by the Road Record Association that is monitoring her attempt. That means no-one can ride beside her nor any support vehicle overtake her more than twice an hour (to prevent drafting). Drinks and food have to be taken from someone standing at the roadside rather than a moving vehicle (to prevent the temptation of a ‘sticky bottle’). And as well as having RRA officials on board two of her support vehicles for the duration of the ride, there will be 70 “spot checkers” at random points along the route.
She is required to give them 48 hours notice of when she will start her ride, which will be on the first day of favourable weather (ie a strong south easterly wind) after 1 August.
On top of all of that, she is still in the process of raising the £10,000 the attempt will cost. This will pay for her convoy of support vehicles – four in total – accommodation for her seven-strong crew at the start and finish, and fees for the RRA officials. At the time of writing she was still trying to find sponsors to add to Leslie Bike Shop of Fife who is providing wheels, servicing and nutrition, and Italian brand Salice
Millennia of volcanic, seismic and meteorological phenomenahavesculpted the topography...
who is suppling a helmet and sunglasses.
The idea of attempting the record was born out of riding the 24 hours TT at the RTTC National Championships in 2017.
“I rode 396 miles and though it was the most awful thing I’d ever done, by the time I got home I’d decided I couldn’t leave it at that, I would have to go back and break the 400-mile mark,” she says. She returned a year later and duly finished first in her age group with 431.64 miles.
Her success inspired some fellow female members of her club, Stirling Bike Club, to commit to riding a 12-hour TT with her.
“They enjoyed it so much they said, ‘Right, what do we do next year?’ and that’s when they said they would be my support crew if I wanted to attempt LEJOG,” says Christina.
It’s not the first time she has inspired other riders. After leaving the Isle of Lewis at the age of 18 to study at Glasgow University, Christina ended up working in Dublin where she founded Portmarnock Triathlon Club that today boasts 100 members. It was also there she met endurance rider and Race Across America finisher Joe Barr, who is now her coach.
Three lochs
We settle the bill, clip in and join the little-used road to Aberfoyle that takes us past a series of ‘hidden’ lochs. First up is Arklet, set against a picture postcard backdrop of looming mountain peaks, followed by Chon and Ard, which are hemmed in by steep, forested slopes.
In Aberfoyle, Christina pauses to make a phone call. She wants me
“A 117km ride through the heart of one of the most beautiful parts of the UK, the Loch Lo mon dandTros sachs National Park”
to meet Dougie Telfer, the retired police officer and fellow member of Stirling BC who will be her crew chief and who lives nearby.
“This ride will take me into the unknown and I need someone who can make all the key decisions for me,” she says. “I know there will be moments when I will want to throw my bike to the ground and stop riding, and that’s when I’ll need him to show me tough love. If there’s nothing actually wrong with me, he will make me keep going.
“The clock doesn’t stop when I stop. I know I won’t be in a position to think for myself. I need someone I can trust who can do the thinking for me. I need someone who might have to take the ultimate decision and stop me from continuing.”
I can’t wait to meet this figure of authority after such a build-up so it’s a massive disappointment when Dougie fails to answer his phone (we think he’s out on his bike).
But there’s another reason for my disappointment. I was looking forward to an excuse for a coffee and sit down as just around the corner is the toughest part of today’s ride, the long haul up to Duke’s Pass.
The gradient of the first half of this four kilometre climb rarely dips below 10 per cent as it twists through woods and meadows ablaze with bluebells. Built in the 19th century to accommodate tourists flocking north of the border to see what Queen Victoria had been getting so excited about, the pass is now a popular tester for local riders.
The descent down the other side isn’t as steep, allowing us time to soak in the views of yet more mountains and lochs – rock and water are the recurring themes of today’s ride – extending as far as the eye can see. At the bottom, we pause to take obligatory selfies in front of a field of Highland cattle, their massive horns glinting in the sunlight.
We retrace our route along the lumpy, northern shores of Lochs Achray and Venacher. Apparently there is a gravel bike path on the opposite side of Venacher, but Christina advises against it. With just a couple of months before her record attempt, she’s wary of taking any undue risks that might damage her or her bike, one of two she’ll be using for the record attempt (her other is a TT machine).
Just south of Callander, we bear right and start the final test of the day, the climb up the ‘Big Braes’. It’s not particularly steep but drags on for three kilometres. I’m happy to concentrate on my oxygen intake while Christina describes her
This four kilometre climb rarely dips below 10 per cent as it twists through woods and meadows
typical week’s training schedule. She’s lucky enough to have an employer – Falkirk Council, where she works as a swimming development officer – that permits her to be flexible with her hours and work from home.
“That means I can do a lot of work from my computer in the evenings, and be out riding during the day,” she says. As well as a couple of five or six-hour rides at the weekend, Christina joins the midweek chain gangs of Stirling and Falkirk Bike Clubs.
“There are about 10 to 15 of us in each group and they are generally supportive,” says Christina, before adding with a wry smile: “There are one or two in the Falkirk club who like shouting at you if you don’t come through to do your turn. I just keep my head down. But I won’t go out with them if it’s raining, I don’t want to risk crashing. I’ll stay in and do some turbo instead.”
At the bottom of the descent from the Big Braes, we turn left and skirt around yet another expanse of water. But for a change, this one isn’t a loch, it’s a Scottish oddity that must give nationalists indigestion every time they see its name – Lake of Menteith, the country’s only anglicised stretch of water.
Soon afterwards we leave the quiet country lanes we have enjoyed for most of the day and join the busy A811 for the final stretch back to the finish. It’s pan-flat but is the most punishing five kilometres of the day, less because of the traffic – most of which affords us plenty of room when passing – but because of a violent headwind that has blown up from nowhere. We take turns at the front and it’s a relief when we finally turn into the car park from where we started.
While I make sure my Stornaway Black Pudding is intact, Christina sets off on her 16km ride home to Stirling, the chorus of beeps from her Garmin a nagging reminder of her date with destiny.