Got the T-Shirt (It is mustard and quite lovely)
The Dirty Reiver is a gravel event (not a race!) in Kielder Forest (Nothumberland), with three distances, 200km, 130km and 65km. Two of us went last year and ended up on the 130km due to disgusting weather and poor event organisation. I said I’d never do it again, and upon leaving last year, really didn’t think I’d be back. And I wasn’t bothered. I’d not managed the 200km that we’d set out to achieve, and honestly didn’t feel like I had unfinished business or that I’d care if I didn’t come back.
With that said, I hadn’t bothered entering the 2024 event. Some of my friends had, and I’d set out on some rides with them that I’d ridden to prepare for last years event. I was taking satisfaction in riding with them, knowing I didn’t have to go to Kielder and ride the Reiver.
Two weeks prior to the event, one of the guys riding the event was unable to make it, and offered me his place. I didn’t really think, just checked with the family and gladly took his entry. After this, I regretted it, remembering that I didn’t enjoy last years event, but I didn’t feel any pressure to ride, and went with the headspace that I hadn’t done any real prep, so it would be fine to bail out on the 130km – which is still no mean feat at all!
Having a Moan About Last Year
For the 2023 edition, longtime friend and super cyclist Bert and I had entered, prepared, travelled and stayed together. We set off to ride the 200km, and due to the weather and organisation, decided at the second feed stop to do the 130km. When we finished, we immediately set off back home, disillusioned with the event.
Yes, the weather was poor, and that is just part of riding in the UK this time of year. We did hear a few non native accents question why the event was held in April (to my amusement). It’s a fair question, but would it make a difference? It snows in May, and the summer months don’t exactly guarantee warmth and sunshine, so what does it matter when it is, it’s always going to be tough.
The atmosphere in the event village, and attitude of other riders last year was what really put me off, along with the organisation around food at the event, and at the first two feed stops. Feed stop one just had red bull, and red bull mixed with water. Irrespective of your feelings on red bull, it’s an endurance event. I won’t say anymore. Feed stop two was better organised, but at that point I just wanted to go home.
Worlds Apart and Loving it
That was a cathartic rant, and I’m moving on. So, let’s cut to the chase. 2024. In a word, fantastic.
This year, I did a few rides with a friend I hadn’t ridden with for a while, introducing Forbes. Super strong, doesn’t hang about and very experienced mountain biker. This was his first gravel event, and we shared the same outlook – get there, see what the day brings and go from there. We were due to be a larger group, meeting another friend and super cyclist Jon, along with someone I’d not ridden with for a while, Paul. Unfortunately, Paul sustained a knee injury and has managed to defer entry for next year. Jon headed up the night before, so due to poor phone signal, Forbes and I arranged to meet Jon at the Anglers Arms at 5pm on the Friday.
We’re North West based, in between Greater Manchester and the Peak District, so it’s about a 3 hour drive to get to Kielder. On arrival, we headed to the rugby club to stay in the pre booked teepees (thanks everyone for organising!). Kit dropped, and off to sign in to hand in the drop bags for feed stop two.
Numbers on, and free bum cream samples pocketed, we had a quick mooch around the event village, which was quietening down as vendors and riders were heading for food, rest and beers.
Next stop was meeting up with Jon, hearing about the monsoon that we’d avoided by heading up a day later, grabbing a beer and off for a pizza in the fondly named “Warm Room”. The pizza was served from the castle, and most people were sat in the freezing cold courtyard. There is an inside area that was open and available, but we seemed to be the only users of it. And the name is accurate. It was warm. And had chairs. What more could you want?
Forbes and I headed back to the TeePee to some rest and cram some more food in. On the way, we noticed that the clubhouse at the rugby club was open, and serving Pies and hot drinks (amongst other items). The temperature had dropped, and not having to faff with camping stoves and sitting in a cold tent was bliss. We were able to watch the Ospreys nesting on the webcam too!
I was aware that the Northern Lights should be visible that evening, but failed completely to catch them. I set my phone to get them, but we were too early. Plus, it was freezing, and I had a face to stuff.
Is that snow?!
After the “Raceday” morning rituals of faffing with kit, faffing with bikes, faffing with kit again, not eating, eating, twelve trips to the portaloos, kit was on (actual words said by me – “it’s so cold that the silicone on my leg warmers is making me shiver”. A strong start.), and we headed to the rugby club for a cuppa before meeting Jon at the start line.
The stream from the Osprey Nest was on, and we had to ask the guys at the club if it was live, because it was snowing on camera. It was already hovering below freezing, and the frost was thick! Well, there’s no time to be faffing with more kit, so it was off to the start line.
Riders move off in groups from 7:45AM, and having little interest in being at the pointy end of things, we’d agreed to meet Jon towards the back of the group. With over 1500 riders (and of course bikes), getting across to Jon was challenging. Didn’t stop me from preening around on a picnic table to get his attention though.
The Bots That Follow Your Instagram Will Not Be Pleased
And off we popped. A nice gentle roll out, pausing to group up with Jon and ride as a three along the first few miles of silky smooth tarmac and the first taster of gravel along the viaduct and on to some family grade sweepy stuff. Lovely. The roll out is “neutralised” and the actual start is around mile two. This is to thin the groups out and make sure everyone is spaced and paced going into the the first few bits of off road.
There was a wee bottleneck heading up to the viaduct (which is very Game of Thrones-esque, with its rows of trees), so we all slowed to let each other get rolling again. All but two incredibly keen gents who absolutely should not have had to wait for something as trivial as their fellow competitors manners, ripped off down the side of us all, through dog droppings, thorns and the like. There was an assumption that the three bots following their influencer account would be most unhappy with their lack of enthusiasm and commitment.
I’ve moaned again, so let’s reset. The sun was shining, legs were fresh, anxiety had turned to excitement, and no one could feel their fingers and toes. Perfect riding conditions. We’d headed up the first few climbs, and descents, a glimpse of the magnificent Kielder Water, clouds of dust, the buzz of a thousand freehubs, and the crunch of gravel were massaging the senses, and building the sheer joy of the event.
Chasing the Break
At the top of one of the earliest climbs is a stupendous descent. It is what the heart desires out of a gravel ride, and is one of my favourite sections of the course. It feels like it goes on forever, and turns into a few rolling climbs and more incredible descents. Absolutely type one fun here.
Unfortunately at the top of this climb, there was a little stack from a couple of riders in front of me. Jon was on the other side of the double track and had been able to carry on, along with Forbes. I was held up for a short while and then set off to chase them both down. To no avail. Around every corner, on every straight, there was no sight of them. I relaxed into my own pace, taking in the sunshine, forest and feeling content that I was here and having such a great time.
I rolled across the dam, with it’s smooth flat tarmac a gentle relief from the first 10 miles of chunky gravel tracks. After that, it’s a short climb and back into a super fast, grin inducing descent. From this point until the first feed stop, there are a few stand out parts, but it is mostly up, down, trees, sunshine, beautiful views and trying to remember to eat.
Just ahead of the feed stop, I caught up to Jon, with no Forbes! Jon had been riding solo, keeping his own strong pace, and thought Forbes had stayed with me. That meant Forbes was behind me, so I was more than happy to slow down from my chasing and ride together. As I approached the feed stop, after a short smooth rolling road section, which made my legs feel like they were climbing an alpine pass, Jon was just leaving. He was on incredible form, setting a great pace.
I waited for Forbes, stuffing my face and refilling my bottles. OTE is the partner/sponsor/supporter and provider of drinks (plus one bar and gel per rider) at the first two stops. Their stuff really works for me, it tastes good, goes down well and doesn’t make my wet paper bag of a stomach hate its own existence.
I felt completely refreshed after the stop, and the pair of us left to take on the next 30 miles until feed stop two. I was breaking down the event into either thirds or quarters. I’d not made up my mind on what distance to commit to, so I was very much just enjoying being out on my bike in the sun, and really taking advantage of the event – route, location, organsition, the lot.
Feeling fresh at the start. I don’t recall having that much grey in my beard, so I’m assuming it’s frost from it being that cold. Also, deduct some more style points from that appalling hat and helmet angle. Disgraceful.
A First Second Wind
As the next few miles rolled by, I was feeling alright. Not great, but good. I never do well at the beginning of races (read “events”). Don’t have the head for it. But I’d found my legs (they are where they usually are, dangling off my bum, but you get what I mean), and was genuinely starting to feel content, which is unusual for me.
On chatting with Forbes, he had mentioned that he may not be wishing to commit to the big job, and was suffering a fair bit from back pain. We’d not set a plan, and I was happy to ride together, but was starting to feel like I could do the 200km route and would like to give it a go. We had a chat and I settled into a pace for me that would mean I could attempt the longer day out.
We were back to riding solo, and for me, it would remain that way for the rest of the day. Not to say that other riders were unfriendly, I’d pass someone and say hi, and then someone would pass me and say hi later on. Towards the tail end of the day, the gaps between other riders and myself, whether catching or being caught, felt like hours in between.
I was now in the right headspace for the longer route, and felt like I was on a mission. In hindsight, that feeling was definitely a tailwind. I arrived at the second feed stop, after a wonderful slippery, muddy, deciduous bit of the forest, happy to refill bottles and have a bite of something that wasn’t a sugary bar.
The flies thought this too, and I got covered in midge bites on the only bit of leg I had out – the gap between my socks and knee warmers.
My drop bag was at this feed stop, and I’d chucked in bars to get me around the next half (I’d planned for the big ride, but knew it was a slim possibility), as well as the holy grail of savoury snacks, fish and chip bites. If you haven’t had these, get to B & M. They are 85p for a multipack.
I’ve since been informed that there was soup at this stop, which I’d somehow missed! However, OTE were there, and I stocked up on their handouts and drinks.
You’ll Use Anything But the Metric System
On leaving the feed stop, the course runs on a trail that goes behind an activity centre and rejoins the forest tracks. In the car park, on its own, was the red bull DJ booth, blaring out Teenage Wasteland. Thanks for that. Stuck in my head for the next 60 miles.
Rolling on towards the split for the 130km and 200km routes was amazing. The day was at its warmest, and the views continued to be incredible. There’s a lull in the middle of the first feed stops, where everything looks identical, and there’s no focal points. Just hills, trees, gravel and the odd bit of tarmac. It’s all lovely, but can be hard to distinguish between.
Immediately before the split, you roll over a bridge, make a few twisty turns that are on a dedicated bike route around Kielder Water, it’s fast and fun, and different from the preceding route. Immediately after the split, there’s a climb. I think this is the longest climb I have ever ridden up, in all terms, length, elevation and time taken to get up it. The vistas are something else, which really helps, as I’d conceived many additional metrics for measuring this particular climb. How may second winds I was getting (17), how many cramps I had (12 in my feet), and how many sore spots I had (3, all below the waist).
An Eighteenth Second Wind
After the hill of a thousand pedal strokes (and possibly miles), there’s a great bit of singletrack that spits you out onto the main road for about 50 meters, where your backside can really appreciate the luxury of Northumberland’s finest tarmac, before belting up what feels like (even in hindsight) the steepest section of the day. The steepness is short lived, but the climb continues, and then the route breaks out onto some less well manicured tarmac, but is again, a blessed relief for your arse. (Or in fact, my arse.)
This uphill section is long and drawn out, with a few small rolling descents, that really helped propel me up the next few inclines. I definitely was not feeling fresh, and had started to look at my Garmin a lot more than in the first half of the ride. It felt like the first 60 miles flew by, but the last 20 had taken twice as long. I was eating and drinking, and definitely not low on energy, but I was sore, fatigued and acutely aware of how long was left to go. I was also unaware of exactly where the next feed stop was, and was trying to manifest it around every corner, or in every hidden dip.
Just as I was beginning to fade from the prolonged climb and the exertion of pressing the screen on my garmin to show that I’d only covered 0.4 miles since the last check, the road started to head down hill. Accompanied by one of my favourite signs of the event “Caution, Steep Descent”. Good, don’t need to pedal.
I’d thought that the first few descents were the longest, most fun, most exhilarating, fastest that I’d ever ridden on a gravel bike, but this felt like something else. It might not have been, but it was a ribbon of dust that felt never ending, and I was loving it. And at the bottom was the final feed stop. Heaven.
Sausage Rolling On
The final feed stop is now what I will dream of when I’m hungry. If I could have used that as my wedding buffet, I gladly would have done. I’ve never been greeted by so many wonderful people, and so many sausage rolls. I must have looked exactly how I felt, as one of the volunteers took my drink bottles off my bike, filled them up and passed them back, whilst encouraging me to shove crisps, jaffa cakes and sausage rolls into my face. I said a thousand thank you’s to her, but it’s not enough! Every one at that stop had this friendly demeanour and it helped my morale no end.
As I rode past the stand to crack on, I swiped a few more sausage rolls to see me through, my brain screaming that once I’d ticked over the 100 mile mark, it was effectively job done.
I’m aware that I keep flicking between miles and km here. This is because I’m used to miles and my garmin is set up in miles. However, the event (and most gravel events) are measured in KM. So I knew there was a feed every 30 miles, and the distance was just shy of 200km, measuring out at what I thought was 116 miles. So in my head, after a huge day out, once 100 miles were in the bag, what does 16 more matter? On this course, nothing, as they were largely downhill/flat/rolling. What mattered was that extra 5.
Dig in Lad
Please, oh please let this be the last climb of the day. Everything hurts, I’ve gone over 100 miles now, surely it’s downhill all the way back. Yes, effectively. Given the amount of climbing already completed, anything after the last big long drawn out drag should be considered flat. And after that last behemoth of climb, is another huge descent, with another second wind (and probably tail wind) that propelled me back towards Kielder Water, Kielder, and the finish line.
At the end of the descent, the route back tracks on itself for a short section, and I recognised where I was. Not far now, distance on the garmin checks out, 111 miles done, 5 to go. And then the course turned away and headed down to the waterfront, on some dedicated bike trails that were fast and flowy. What a great way to end this amazing day out. I was spurred on by having such a short distance to go, and doing it on fun trails. I went for it.
As the trail follows the waters edge quite closely, it weaves and twists following the shape and inlets of Kielder Water. It also undulates. This adds on miles. I’d realised at about 115 miles that I was still a way off, and had no idea how long left. My legs were burning, but the rest of me was freezing. I wasn’t breathing hard, but I didn’t have the energy to. I just kept going as best as I could, knowing that I couldn’t be far off.
I was climbing up a small incline that at the start of the day wouldn’t have registered, but now felt unscalable without a sherpa, when I realised I was approacing the viaduct, which is so close to the finish line, and happily, flat. I was elated. The end was practically in sight. And I was still happy, smiling and content. I’d done the big one, I was happy with my ride, my day out, and just happy overall.
That was until I had to hit the last ramp up past the Anglers Arms to the finish line. Gurning my way up it, when I heard “Go on Phil”, and saw Forbes and Jon cheering me on from the side of the road. That may have been the best part of the day. I crossed the line and was given a meal ticket and a finishers patch.
Post Race Rituals
Ok, so it isn’t a race, it’s an event. Still, it’s massive distance and I was going against myself and the clock, rather than other riders. Plus, I like the alliteration.
The meal ticket (included in entry) gives you a bowl of chilli, rice, cheese and a bread roll. It’s warm and fills a gaping hole! The other thing that fills this hole is beer. Lovely, lovely beer. Stohk had a stand there, and Forbes was kind enough to treat me to a pint of their easily drinkable ATB. After that, it was a race to get changed, as following food, I’d started to cool down quickly. Warm clothes on, it was back to the “Warm Room” for another beer and a post ride debrief on what our favourite sections were, the oddities we’d seen on the route, how many dropped water bottles, tubes, tools we’d spied and which bit was the worst!
After an endurance event like this, on any of the distances, you’re knackered. And the day was drawing to a close. Jon headed to bed, whilst Forbes and I made a pit stop at the rugby club for a pie (still hungry!) and another pint. There was a quiz about leeks, which we caught the tail end of and certainly would not have won, but that didn’t stop the friendly folk from pressing as many gulps of “several types of ale” as we could manage from an enamel mug. I think that’s absolutely the recovery drink of the pro peloton.
And that’s that. I enjoyed this years event enough to do a comprehensive write up. I’ll drop a link to the kit and equipment I used for the 2024 event. Will I be back? I’ve no plans to return, but that’s not because I don’t want to, I just feel like I’ve left on such a high from this year, that I don’t want to blemish it from returning and having a less good time. Maybe I’d convinced myself that I didn’t have unfinished business, because I certainly feel like that itch is well and truly scratched now.
