Stroker and Rambu's Excellent Everesting Adventure
Everesting done and dusted (photo: Jack Grant)
"Real adventure doesn’t have to be endless travel to remote places. It can just be the local hill and an awesome attitude.”
June 21, 2018
The above quote from the madcap, endurance legend Ned Phillips describes perfectly what happened last Friday when my good friend Bastian Dohling and I embarked on an Everesting attempt last week at the unlikely location of Rifle Range Road in Singapore.
For those non-cyclists out there, “to Everest” is to climb the elevation of the highest peak in the world – 8,848 metres – on one mountain/hill, in one session. Since the concept was popularised in 2014, there have been some 2,283 successful Everestings on inclines of widely varying gradients and distances. Some do it on proper mountains in famous ranges such as the Alps, the Rockies or even the Himalayas, while others living in less vertically endowed locations make do with smaller slopes, often much smaller … like Rifle Range Road.
RRR as its known is a very popular training location for Singapore cyclists. It’s a mostly quiet length of two-lane tarmac off the central Dunearn Road artery that cuts through the jungle for 3.4km, before stopping abruptly at a hiking trail leading to the Bukit Timah Nature Reserve. Ridden at a tempo pace, the undulating out-and-back loop is as challenging a stretch of road as can be found on the island.
For our Everesting purposes we just took on the first main hill on RRR, a climb only 1.05km in length that gains a net 44m in elevation at an average gradient of 4.1 percent. The relatively gentle gradient meant we faced a mind-boggling 202 ascents and descents and the total distance would be about 425km.
It took us 23 hours and 12 minutes, but we did it, and now it’s time to sit down and capture the experience for posterity.
Until about five weeks ago I had no intention of ever doing an Everest again. (I first did it back in 2014 on Singapore’s main “peak”, Mt Faber. That expedition involved 111 reps of the climb, 330km of distance and it took 21 hours to complete. While rewarding, it was physically and mentally challenging, and it took me quite a while to recover from the effort. Read about that adventure by clicking here.
Indeed, at the start of this year when Bastian informed me over one of our regular masala tea pondering sessions that it was time I did another Everest so that he could join me, I laughed it off with something along the lines of “to do one Everest is madness, to do two would be just stupid”.
So I guess I’m a bit stupid.
The above quote from the madcap, endurance legend Ned Phillips describes perfectly what happened last Friday when my good friend Bastian Dohling and I embarked on an Everesting attempt last week at the unlikely location of Rifle Range Road in Singapore.
For those non-cyclists out there, “to Everest” is to climb the elevation of the highest peak in the world – 8,848 metres – on one mountain/hill, in one session. Since the concept was popularised in 2014, there have been some 2,283 successful Everestings on inclines of widely varying gradients and distances. Some do it on proper mountains in famous ranges such as the Alps, the Rockies or even the Himalayas, while others living in less vertically endowed locations make do with smaller slopes, often much smaller … like Rifle Range Road.
RRR as its known is a very popular training location for Singapore cyclists. It’s a mostly quiet length of two-lane tarmac off the central Dunearn Road artery that cuts through the jungle for 3.4km, before stopping abruptly at a hiking trail leading to the Bukit Timah Nature Reserve. Ridden at a tempo pace, the undulating out-and-back loop is as challenging a stretch of road as can be found on the island.
For our Everesting purposes we just took on the first main hill on RRR, a climb only 1.05km in length that gains a net 44m in elevation at an average gradient of 4.1 percent. The relatively gentle gradient meant we faced a mind-boggling 202 ascents and descents and the total distance would be about 425km.
It took us 23 hours and 12 minutes, but we did it, and now it’s time to sit down and capture the experience for posterity.
Until about five weeks ago I had no intention of ever doing an Everest again. (I first did it back in 2014 on Singapore’s main “peak”, Mt Faber. That expedition involved 111 reps of the climb, 330km of distance and it took 21 hours to complete. While rewarding, it was physically and mentally challenging, and it took me quite a while to recover from the effort. Read about that adventure by clicking here.
Indeed, at the start of this year when Bastian informed me over one of our regular masala tea pondering sessions that it was time I did another Everest so that he could join me, I laughed it off with something along the lines of “to do one Everest is madness, to do two would be just stupid”.
So I guess I’m a bit stupid.
The change of heart came shortly after a big block of racing ended on May 12 at the Bintan Triathlon. I realised that with Ramadan about to start, there would be no bike (or triathlon) racing in Singapore or nearby Malaysia and Indonesia for at least the next five weeks and so I needed a challenge to aim for to keep me motivated to train.
I promptly informed Basti and he said he was in. We picked a date, June 16, and then started mulling over the location. We wanted to do it on virgin territory as the official Everesting ethos is: “Pick a climb. Try to be first. Everest that. Digitally chisel your name into sucker forever … Subsequent attempts will always count, and may be faster, but there is always only one first ascent.”
So Faber was out, as were the suitable climbs of Pepys Road and Telok Blangah Park, the latter two having already been conquered by local rider Daryl Chan (Daryl, who coincidentally shares my June 15 birthday, did the former on a Brompton!!!).
We considered a few hills but ultimately ruled them out for various reasons: Bukit Batok (too steep, dodgy turnaround at bottom), Vigilante (even steeper, even dodgier turnaround), Bukit Gombok (illegal), Serapong on Sentosa (possibly illegal, dangerous if wet), the main NTU hill (too far away, no shade), South Buona Vista Road (too much traffic and too shallow).
The first hill on Rifle Range Road isn’t ideal either due to its 4.1 percent average grade; the shallower the gradient means more reps of the climb to hit the 8,848m Everest target. But we felt it had a lot of other things going for it, such as a smooth surface, low traffic, great street lighting, its central location (which would allow family and friends to drop by), a canopy over most of the climb, and for the most part, a fast but safe descent.
The cons included those 202 reps and 425km, and the first 300 metres of the descent, which can be quite tricky if wet.
I promptly informed Basti and he said he was in. We picked a date, June 16, and then started mulling over the location. We wanted to do it on virgin territory as the official Everesting ethos is: “Pick a climb. Try to be first. Everest that. Digitally chisel your name into sucker forever … Subsequent attempts will always count, and may be faster, but there is always only one first ascent.”
So Faber was out, as were the suitable climbs of Pepys Road and Telok Blangah Park, the latter two having already been conquered by local rider Daryl Chan (Daryl, who coincidentally shares my June 15 birthday, did the former on a Brompton!!!).
We considered a few hills but ultimately ruled them out for various reasons: Bukit Batok (too steep, dodgy turnaround at bottom), Vigilante (even steeper, even dodgier turnaround), Bukit Gombok (illegal), Serapong on Sentosa (possibly illegal, dangerous if wet), the main NTU hill (too far away, no shade), South Buona Vista Road (too much traffic and too shallow).
The first hill on Rifle Range Road isn’t ideal either due to its 4.1 percent average grade; the shallower the gradient means more reps of the climb to hit the 8,848m Everest target. But we felt it had a lot of other things going for it, such as a smooth surface, low traffic, great street lighting, its central location (which would allow family and friends to drop by), a canopy over most of the climb, and for the most part, a fast but safe descent.
The cons included those 202 reps and 425km, and the first 300 metres of the descent, which can be quite tricky if wet.
Rifle Range was serenely quiet at 4:30am (photo: TimTam)
But the pros outweighed the cons and so Rifle Range Road it was. A week out we changed the date from June 16, a Saturday and a work day in Singapore, to June 15 when we realised the latter was a public holiday. While Rifle Range Road is quiet, two military camps and a SingTel facility at the far end of road bring a fair amount of traffic in the early morning and late afternoon of workdays, as does the busy childcare centre at the Temasek Club, a social/country club that sits slap bang in the middle of our course. Plus there is the on-going infrastructure work on the adjacent Green Corridor to deal with. So by opting for the public holiday we thought it would be quieter. Thankfully, that thinking turned out to be correct.
We opted for a midnight start as we reckoned it would take around 22 hours to complete the task, and so being able to go home to bed at a normal time sounded quite appealing.
We didn’t advertise the attempt in advance because the risk of failure was real. Despite both being half decent cyclists, riding for a full day has many potential pitfalls, including unrideable storms, mechanical problems, and plain old fatigue and injury; both Basti and I have dodgy backs and the possibility of one or both of us seizing up was real.
Despite not pre-announcing our adventure, we did set up a fundraising page – for the Children’s Cancer Foundation (CCF) of Singapore – and planned to advertise it as a “flash appeal” during the ride if we got to the two-thirds mark. Alas, we left it too late to set up the www.giving.sg page and didn’t get approval from the charity in time for the attempt. But permission from the CCF did come through eventually, so here is the link to the fund-raising page. Any donations, large or small, will be greatly appreciated by Basti and I, and the Children’s Cancer Foundation.
We opted for a midnight start as we reckoned it would take around 22 hours to complete the task, and so being able to go home to bed at a normal time sounded quite appealing.
We didn’t advertise the attempt in advance because the risk of failure was real. Despite both being half decent cyclists, riding for a full day has many potential pitfalls, including unrideable storms, mechanical problems, and plain old fatigue and injury; both Basti and I have dodgy backs and the possibility of one or both of us seizing up was real.
Despite not pre-announcing our adventure, we did set up a fundraising page – for the Children’s Cancer Foundation (CCF) of Singapore – and planned to advertise it as a “flash appeal” during the ride if we got to the two-thirds mark. Alas, we left it too late to set up the www.giving.sg page and didn’t get approval from the charity in time for the attempt. But permission from the CCF did come through eventually, so here is the link to the fund-raising page. Any donations, large or small, will be greatly appreciated by Basti and I, and the Children’s Cancer Foundation.
With the planning done all that was left was to just do it. We set up our basecamp – my old Honda Civic parked on the side road at the bottom of the hill – at 11:45pm on the 14th and rolled off on our adventure just a few minutes past the anointed midnight start. This was due to me fiddling with one of three Garmins I had with me for the attempt … more on that later.
Let’s describe the hill we were about to tackle 202 times: The first 100 metres are basically flat, then the road gently slopes up to the 450m mark from where it rises sharply for 150m at an average of 8 percent. A little dip of some 50m follows, then the last 350m twists up sharply through the s-bends before levelling off on a plateau no more than 30m long. It was on this flat bit, our “peak”, that we u-turned and headed back down. The total elevation for the segment is 46m.
A word on that “little dip”; because we had to ride up its 2m of height on the descent, we had to subtract 404m of “illegal” elevation from our total. Or to put it another way, we had to ride an extra 10 climbs of the hill to hit our target.
The rules are set by a group of Aussies known as the Hells 500. They are the “creators and custodians” of the Everesting Hall of Fame. Their website is cool (https://everesting.cc/), and includes a tool for calculating the number of reps required to Everest any particular hill/mountain; just stick in the Strava segment and it does the rest. The upshot was we had to do 199.3 reps of our hill. I decided to tag on the extra 2.7 reps just as a precaution … although I didn’t tell Basti that until we’d finished.
It’s definitely a bit of mindbender starting off on a task that requires 202 repetitions and in the knowledge that it will take the best part of a full day, but completing that first ascent invoked a good feeling as at least we were underway and eating into the big total.
Let’s describe the hill we were about to tackle 202 times: The first 100 metres are basically flat, then the road gently slopes up to the 450m mark from where it rises sharply for 150m at an average of 8 percent. A little dip of some 50m follows, then the last 350m twists up sharply through the s-bends before levelling off on a plateau no more than 30m long. It was on this flat bit, our “peak”, that we u-turned and headed back down. The total elevation for the segment is 46m.
A word on that “little dip”; because we had to ride up its 2m of height on the descent, we had to subtract 404m of “illegal” elevation from our total. Or to put it another way, we had to ride an extra 10 climbs of the hill to hit our target.
The rules are set by a group of Aussies known as the Hells 500. They are the “creators and custodians” of the Everesting Hall of Fame. Their website is cool (https://everesting.cc/), and includes a tool for calculating the number of reps required to Everest any particular hill/mountain; just stick in the Strava segment and it does the rest. The upshot was we had to do 199.3 reps of our hill. I decided to tag on the extra 2.7 reps just as a precaution … although I didn’t tell Basti that until we’d finished.
It’s definitely a bit of mindbender starting off on a task that requires 202 repetitions and in the knowledge that it will take the best part of a full day, but completing that first ascent invoked a good feeling as at least we were underway and eating into the big total.
A graphical representation of the 202 climbs from Garmin Connect; count them, they're all there
The first of many incidents that occurred during our adventure cropped up within the first few laps. The streetlights were perfect, bright but with a soft glow rather than a harsh glare. But it seemed some moths appreciated the lights as much as we did and we were soon witnessing the awesome sight of what must have been many thousands of the fluttering insects swarming round two of the lampposts in particular. These just happened to be situated on the stretch of s-bends. So we got a nice slow view of this natural wonder on the way up, and a flash of the action on the way down.
However, after a couple of laps, we noticed that the moths had been joined by more creatures from the jungle – a few bats attracted by the mass feeding opportunity on offer. At first it was kind of cool watching the bats swooping and looping around the lampposts, but before long a lot more of the winged critters joined the aerial feast and the only technical section of our whole course now had the added danger of bat avoidance!
Luckily, the food cycle phenomena didn’t last too long; either the moths got smart and made an quick exit back into the jungle, or more likely, the bats obliterated them, as by 1am all flying creatures were gone and we had the road to ourselves again.
We were about 10 laps in by then, the first mental milestone, 1/20th of the goal. The plan was to break down the attempt into smaller chunks, both mental and physical. The first physical target was 20 laps, after which we’d have our first break. Breaks are not only allowed in Everesting, they are actively encouraged, but sleep is a no-no.
As it turns out we didn’t even hit our first target as we had to stop after 18 laps due to a mechanical, or rather, electrical problem with Basti’s bike. We were both riding S-Works Tarmac SL6 Ultralights with Roval wheels, but while I was running a standard mechanical Dura-Ace drivetrain, Basti had the dreaded Di2.
On ascent number 17 he somehow managed to put his Di2 system into “crash” mode, which saw his rear derailleur locked into the 11-cog on his cassette. After trying for a while to fix it on the fly, we took the decision to stop early so he could consult Mr Google. There were a few anxious moments, but he sorted it out and we were back on.
We had gotten into a nice rhythm quite quickly, riding the climb side-by-side, Basti leading through the s-bends, then my 10 extra kilos seeing me move through to the front as we mostly free-wheeled down the faster stretch of the downhill. We more or less kept this up for the whole 23+ hours.
We put in 22 laps for stint number 2 and there wasn’t much to report save for the singing voices and trumpeting elephants that Basti swore he could hear coming from the jungle as he carved his way through the s-bends.
It was during the second break that our first human visitor arrived, our teammate from the Specialized Roval Mavericks, the one-and-only Ben Arnott. TimTam had an 8am flight to catch, but that didn’t stop him from setting an early alarm and joining us for 10 laps. Getting such support from friends and family is a huge boost as it breaks the monotony and gives us somebody else to talk to for a while.
However, after a couple of laps, we noticed that the moths had been joined by more creatures from the jungle – a few bats attracted by the mass feeding opportunity on offer. At first it was kind of cool watching the bats swooping and looping around the lampposts, but before long a lot more of the winged critters joined the aerial feast and the only technical section of our whole course now had the added danger of bat avoidance!
Luckily, the food cycle phenomena didn’t last too long; either the moths got smart and made an quick exit back into the jungle, or more likely, the bats obliterated them, as by 1am all flying creatures were gone and we had the road to ourselves again.
We were about 10 laps in by then, the first mental milestone, 1/20th of the goal. The plan was to break down the attempt into smaller chunks, both mental and physical. The first physical target was 20 laps, after which we’d have our first break. Breaks are not only allowed in Everesting, they are actively encouraged, but sleep is a no-no.
As it turns out we didn’t even hit our first target as we had to stop after 18 laps due to a mechanical, or rather, electrical problem with Basti’s bike. We were both riding S-Works Tarmac SL6 Ultralights with Roval wheels, but while I was running a standard mechanical Dura-Ace drivetrain, Basti had the dreaded Di2.
On ascent number 17 he somehow managed to put his Di2 system into “crash” mode, which saw his rear derailleur locked into the 11-cog on his cassette. After trying for a while to fix it on the fly, we took the decision to stop early so he could consult Mr Google. There were a few anxious moments, but he sorted it out and we were back on.
We had gotten into a nice rhythm quite quickly, riding the climb side-by-side, Basti leading through the s-bends, then my 10 extra kilos seeing me move through to the front as we mostly free-wheeled down the faster stretch of the downhill. We more or less kept this up for the whole 23+ hours.
We put in 22 laps for stint number 2 and there wasn’t much to report save for the singing voices and trumpeting elephants that Basti swore he could hear coming from the jungle as he carved his way through the s-bends.
It was during the second break that our first human visitor arrived, our teammate from the Specialized Roval Mavericks, the one-and-only Ben Arnott. TimTam had an 8am flight to catch, but that didn’t stop him from setting an early alarm and joining us for 10 laps. Getting such support from friends and family is a huge boost as it breaks the monotony and gives us somebody else to talk to for a while.
Everest Basecamp, an old Honda Civic parked at the bottom of the climb (photo: Valley Cycles)
Not long after TimTam left, just before 5am, a distant flash during the descent heralded a warning. Storms are a daily feature of life in the tropics. They can be prolonged, but more often than not, they are relatively short affairs, and sometimes they can even sweep by without dumping their load.
However, on this occasion each lap brought the flashes of lightning closer and the accompanying thunder became much louder. But it still hadn’t hit by the time we stopped around 6am for a break. We now had time to consult the weather app and the radar confirmed there was big front of nastiness bearing down on us from the west.
What to do? Just keeping riding of course and wait to see how bad it would get. It didn’t take long for the winds to pick up and for the first few drops of rain to hit us, and as the dawn approached we could see the threatening colour of the sky. But amazingly the storm somehow changed direction and passed by us harmlessly. The sky was still putting on a loud and illuminating show for us, but we got to view it from a distance.
Dawn brought the first of a steady stream of cyclists. Every other rider who arrived on Rifle Range Road that day cycled all the way to the end. That’s the normal thing to do and groups of cyclists and individuals get to pass each other at regular points on the loop. So it was funny watching people look at us strangely as they realized we weren’t doing the full loop.
Sarah Schneider of the Matadors was the first of those and when we ended up telling her what we were up to, she nearly fell off her bike. A nice moment of levity and we had a good chat with Sarah after she decided to hang around for a while.
Any ultra-endurance escapade will have ups and downs, though, and a minor hiccup occurred at the next break. I went to check on my back-up cycling computer, an old Garmin Edge 500 that I had stuck in a saddlebag along with a portable charger. Only it turns out that when fiddling with it just before we started, I hadn’t connected it properly and it had run out of juice. Post-ride we discovered that it conked out at the 139km mark, or about six and a half hours, so if I’d checked it at the previous break I’d have plugged it in properly and been fine.
But it wasn’t the end of the world, I still had my Garmin Edge 820 as my main unit attached to the handlebars, and regular top ups with a power bank I had strapped to the top tube were keeping it at or near 100 percent charge. Then there was the Garmin 735x watch on my wrist, which was also recording the ride. All good … for now.
It wasn’t too far into our next stint when more visitors arrived, Stephen Ames of Valley Cycles and his wife and May on their tandem! They were keen for us to try a lap or two aboard their contraption, but we politely declined – which is just as well as I discovered post-ride that they’re banned except in special circumstances. Still, it was great to see AmeZ and May and they promised to come back later in the day.
However, on this occasion each lap brought the flashes of lightning closer and the accompanying thunder became much louder. But it still hadn’t hit by the time we stopped around 6am for a break. We now had time to consult the weather app and the radar confirmed there was big front of nastiness bearing down on us from the west.
What to do? Just keeping riding of course and wait to see how bad it would get. It didn’t take long for the winds to pick up and for the first few drops of rain to hit us, and as the dawn approached we could see the threatening colour of the sky. But amazingly the storm somehow changed direction and passed by us harmlessly. The sky was still putting on a loud and illuminating show for us, but we got to view it from a distance.
Dawn brought the first of a steady stream of cyclists. Every other rider who arrived on Rifle Range Road that day cycled all the way to the end. That’s the normal thing to do and groups of cyclists and individuals get to pass each other at regular points on the loop. So it was funny watching people look at us strangely as they realized we weren’t doing the full loop.
Sarah Schneider of the Matadors was the first of those and when we ended up telling her what we were up to, she nearly fell off her bike. A nice moment of levity and we had a good chat with Sarah after she decided to hang around for a while.
Any ultra-endurance escapade will have ups and downs, though, and a minor hiccup occurred at the next break. I went to check on my back-up cycling computer, an old Garmin Edge 500 that I had stuck in a saddlebag along with a portable charger. Only it turns out that when fiddling with it just before we started, I hadn’t connected it properly and it had run out of juice. Post-ride we discovered that it conked out at the 139km mark, or about six and a half hours, so if I’d checked it at the previous break I’d have plugged it in properly and been fine.
But it wasn’t the end of the world, I still had my Garmin Edge 820 as my main unit attached to the handlebars, and regular top ups with a power bank I had strapped to the top tube were keeping it at or near 100 percent charge. Then there was the Garmin 735x watch on my wrist, which was also recording the ride. All good … for now.
It wasn’t too far into our next stint when more visitors arrived, Stephen Ames of Valley Cycles and his wife and May on their tandem! They were keen for us to try a lap or two aboard their contraption, but we politely declined – which is just as well as I discovered post-ride that they’re banned except in special circumstances. Still, it was great to see AmeZ and May and they promised to come back later in the day.
It didn't rain, it poured, but our buddy Liam tagged along for a while regardless (photo: Charlotte Henry)
It was around 10am when the skies started rumbling again. The weather radar revealed an even nastier looking storm heading in from the west, but after about an hour of just spits of rain we thought we might be getting lucky again. Wishful thinking. The wind and rain hit suddenly and fiercely, turning what had been a nice smooth track into a slippery, slimy and debris-filled mess. I guess we were lucky in that no really big branches descended from the canopy, but in the s-bed section especially, the tarmac could hardly been seen through the mass of broken boughs, leaves and smashed fruit.
The rain was pouring down and the wind was a howling. What to do? Keep on riding of course. Going up the hill wasn’t so bad, but the descent was a different matter as the pelting rain stung straight into the eyes and huge gusts of wind knocked us about at 50kph.
The storm didn’t just bring wind and rain, though, it brought a glut of visitors to lift our spirits. The first of those was another Mav, Liam Winston. The Irishman could easily have taken shelter under the flyover at the bottom of the road and cheered us on from there, but he’s a hardy lad and he duly knocked out a good few laps with us. Next to appear were Basti’s wife Trudy and son Otto who had ridden through the storm to come see Papi. They wisely did their supporting from under the flyover, where they were joined by two more brave cyclist friends, Lizzie Hodges and Charlotte Henry.
The rain was pouring down and the wind was a howling. What to do? Keep on riding of course. Going up the hill wasn’t so bad, but the descent was a different matter as the pelting rain stung straight into the eyes and huge gusts of wind knocked us about at 50kph.
The storm didn’t just bring wind and rain, though, it brought a glut of visitors to lift our spirits. The first of those was another Mav, Liam Winston. The Irishman could easily have taken shelter under the flyover at the bottom of the road and cheered us on from there, but he’s a hardy lad and he duly knocked out a good few laps with us. Next to appear were Basti’s wife Trudy and son Otto who had ridden through the storm to come see Papi. They wisely did their supporting from under the flyover, where they were joined by two more brave cyclist friends, Lizzie Hodges and Charlotte Henry.
The rain was still pelting down but having a squad of cheerleaders enthusiastically encouraging us each time we passed under the flyover really was inspiring. It was during this stint that we crossed the halfway mark, and this gave us another huge mental boost. It took around 11 hours to complete the 101 laps, so if we could maintain that pace, a 10pm finish was on the cards. We both felt pretty good physically and mentally at this stage, although I knew from my previous Everesting experience that things would probably slow up a bit during the second half.
The next visitor arrived soon after that 101-lap mark and he came laden with goodies; my son Jack had dropped by the famous Casuarina Curry on his way to Rifle Range and brought us some roti prata and teh tarek for lunch. The crispy bread and curry sauce, washed down with the hot, sweet and strong tea provided the perfect sustenance for what was our main break of the day. Having family and friends around made it a fairly joyous occasion.
It was our only real meal of the day. The rest of my fuelling consisted of seven energy bars, three bananas, two cheese n chutney sandwiches, two tubes of shot bloks, a packet of salt n vinegar crisps, some homemade trail mix and eight cans of Coke. Plus of course litres and litres of water. Basti’s diet was similar, although instead of sandwiches he brought along a ton of porridge.
We probably overate to be honest, as while we were riding for a stupidly long time, there wasn’t much intensity in there, but we felt it was better to keep eating than to risk a bonk. Besides, the thought of food at each of the breaks definitely was a mental motivator. What definitely wasn’t motivating was restarting after our 30-minute break back out into the rain. The worst of the storm was over, but the rain persisted for another hour or so, and even when it eventually went off for good, the road remained wet and obstacle strewn for the remainder of the ride.
Amazingly we didn’t get a single puncture between us for the duration of the ride. There really was an unbelievable amount of wood on the roads, and as the cars returned to the road post-storm the small branches and twigs got smashed into millions of little splinters just looking for a tyre to deflate. But we got lucky. The storm in some ways was a lucky break too, as the blanket of clouds it left behind kept the temperatures down; the day following our attempt was a scorcher with the thermometer well into the mid 30s Celsius. Cycling seven hours in that oppressive heat would no doubt have added an extra layer of discomfort.
The next visitor arrived soon after that 101-lap mark and he came laden with goodies; my son Jack had dropped by the famous Casuarina Curry on his way to Rifle Range and brought us some roti prata and teh tarek for lunch. The crispy bread and curry sauce, washed down with the hot, sweet and strong tea provided the perfect sustenance for what was our main break of the day. Having family and friends around made it a fairly joyous occasion.
It was our only real meal of the day. The rest of my fuelling consisted of seven energy bars, three bananas, two cheese n chutney sandwiches, two tubes of shot bloks, a packet of salt n vinegar crisps, some homemade trail mix and eight cans of Coke. Plus of course litres and litres of water. Basti’s diet was similar, although instead of sandwiches he brought along a ton of porridge.
We probably overate to be honest, as while we were riding for a stupidly long time, there wasn’t much intensity in there, but we felt it was better to keep eating than to risk a bonk. Besides, the thought of food at each of the breaks definitely was a mental motivator. What definitely wasn’t motivating was restarting after our 30-minute break back out into the rain. The worst of the storm was over, but the rain persisted for another hour or so, and even when it eventually went off for good, the road remained wet and obstacle strewn for the remainder of the ride.
Amazingly we didn’t get a single puncture between us for the duration of the ride. There really was an unbelievable amount of wood on the roads, and as the cars returned to the road post-storm the small branches and twigs got smashed into millions of little splinters just looking for a tyre to deflate. But we got lucky. The storm in some ways was a lucky break too, as the blanket of clouds it left behind kept the temperatures down; the day following our attempt was a scorcher with the thermometer well into the mid 30s Celsius. Cycling seven hours in that oppressive heat would no doubt have added an extra layer of discomfort.
Fried bread, curry sauce and sweet, milky tea could fuel any expedition! (photo: Jack Grant)
As it was, we experienced various aches and pains throughout the ride. Both our fragile backs showed signs of strain early in the day, but with a bit of care and stretching they held out till the end. Sore hands, shoulders, glutes, knees and feet took turns as the main areas of physical annoyance, and sometimes necessitated bringing the breaks forward a lap or two. Also quite surprisingly was the fact that neither of us suffered from saddle sores. While Basti changed into a fresh set of kit mid-afternoon, I couldn’t be bothered and just liberally applied chamois cream at regular intervals. Obviously that tactic plus the superb Specialized Power Arc saddle and the Apex Bib Shorts from Champion System combined to provide the perfect level of care.
However, it was my mind that needed some TLC when around the two-thirds mark my Garmin Edge 820 “blew up”. The display was showing 100 percent battery level so I decided to unplug it from the power bank. I don’t know how it happened, but the screen shot into some sort of diagnostic mode and none of the buttons were responsive. My best guess is that some water got into the unit as I disconnected, but whatever the cause it was no longer recording.
Cyclists kid each other on with the saying “if it isn’t on Strava, it didn’t happen”, and while for a normal ride losing data is merely annoying, for an Everesting attempt it would devastating! The whole Everesting concept as administrated by Hells 500 is heavy interactive with Strava as they need data to prove people did what they claimed.
At least I still had my Garmin 735x watch steadily recording away, so I just had to put the technical failures out of mind and pray it wouldn’t die on me. I knew the watch wasn’t an approved Everest device as it doesn’t feature a “barometer” (most smart phones are the same), but the custodians allow them as a back-up before giving such claims special scrutiny of the Strava file.
However, it was my mind that needed some TLC when around the two-thirds mark my Garmin Edge 820 “blew up”. The display was showing 100 percent battery level so I decided to unplug it from the power bank. I don’t know how it happened, but the screen shot into some sort of diagnostic mode and none of the buttons were responsive. My best guess is that some water got into the unit as I disconnected, but whatever the cause it was no longer recording.
Cyclists kid each other on with the saying “if it isn’t on Strava, it didn’t happen”, and while for a normal ride losing data is merely annoying, for an Everesting attempt it would devastating! The whole Everesting concept as administrated by Hells 500 is heavy interactive with Strava as they need data to prove people did what they claimed.
At least I still had my Garmin 735x watch steadily recording away, so I just had to put the technical failures out of mind and pray it wouldn’t die on me. I knew the watch wasn’t an approved Everest device as it doesn’t feature a “barometer” (most smart phones are the same), but the custodians allow them as a back-up before giving such claims special scrutiny of the Strava file.
The storm eventually moved on but it left a wet road for the rest of the day (photo: Liam Winston)
Those afternoon hours are a bit of a blur now. After AmeZ and May dropped by for a second time (with the most delicious char siew pau dumplings), our visitors dried up and so we just plodded on, repeating stories and counting down the laps in each segment, which by now were down to 15 climbs per.
Interestingly, our laps times for the majority of the adventure stayed fairly consistent, at least until near the end when they slowed dramatically. The range was 5:30 to 6 minutes, with times affected by things like traffic, the storm and monkeys.
The signs of real fatigue became apparent as darkness returned around 7pm. That’s when we started seeing things. On one lap, I could have sworn I saw a green snake wiggle its way alongside me in the grass on the climb past the Temasek Club, but when it was still there on the next lap I realised it was just a stick. Basti got a laugh out of that one as he’d had a similar experience with the same stick on the lap before.
But he wasn’t laughing a couple of laps later when there really was a snake in the middle of the road on the way up through the s-bends (everything seemed to happen in the s-bends). He obviously didn’t believe me when I shouted a warning, and he got a wee shock as upon suddenly realising the threat was real, he narrowly avoided running over what was a long, thin black-and-white-striped scary thing.
Interestingly, our laps times for the majority of the adventure stayed fairly consistent, at least until near the end when they slowed dramatically. The range was 5:30 to 6 minutes, with times affected by things like traffic, the storm and monkeys.
The signs of real fatigue became apparent as darkness returned around 7pm. That’s when we started seeing things. On one lap, I could have sworn I saw a green snake wiggle its way alongside me in the grass on the climb past the Temasek Club, but when it was still there on the next lap I realised it was just a stick. Basti got a laugh out of that one as he’d had a similar experience with the same stick on the lap before.
But he wasn’t laughing a couple of laps later when there really was a snake in the middle of the road on the way up through the s-bends (everything seemed to happen in the s-bends). He obviously didn’t believe me when I shouted a warning, and he got a wee shock as upon suddenly realising the threat was real, he narrowly avoided running over what was a long, thin black-and-white-striped scary thing.
As mentioned before, Rifle Range Road cuts through a jungle, so encounters were wild life were anticipated. RRR is especially known for the troupes of monkeys who inhabit the trees on either side of the road. The long-tailed macaques showed their cheeky faces a few times throughout the day. While wild, they are used to humans as some people feed them out of their cars, and so on occasion we had to ride around them as they parked their butts unceremoniously right in the middle of the road; they move for cars but not cyclists.
The monkeys aren’t nocturnal, though, so for our last few hours we only had to concern ourselves with snakes, wild boars (thankfully none showed up) and Basti’s trumpeting elephants, which had seemingly returned as day turned to night.
While he was worrying about phantom elephants, I was worried about my eyes, or rather their failure to see the lines on the descent. You would think that after 170 times through a section of road you could negotiate it automatically, but the brain starts to play tricks on you when you’re tired. A chat with my German friend revealed he had been experiencing a wobble or two also, so we just took it a bit easier for a while, and before we knew it the spell had passed and we were carving through the corners again.
As we gradually counted down the laps and the splits started to get slower, it became apparent that the 10pm goal was never going to be hit, so we reset the target at 11pm. Not that it mattered, there is no time limit for Everesting, but the thought of a hot shower and getting to bed before midnight was appealing.
We broke the last 34 laps into chunks of 12, 11 and 11, but the splits were still getting slower and the breaks consistently running over their allotted 10 minutes. A count of 600 seconds might seem like a decent chunk of time, but it’s not when you’re knackered.
So we missed the 11pm mark too, but not by much as we rolled to a stop for the final time at 11:16pm. Jack had returned to ride the last hour with us so having him there to gee us up and to witness the end of the adventure was cool. And so "Stroker and Rambu's Excellent Everesting Adventure" was over (the title, for those youngsters out there, alludes to our nicknames and a classic comedy movie from 1989). I didn’t quite feel the same elation as I did upon Everesting Mt Faber, this time it was more a mixture of satisfaction and relief that it was over. But it had been a great pleasure to share the day, my 51st birthday, with my good friend Bastian
My watch had lasted the course, but when we clicked "save" on our devices we saw that we had some different data. My 735x gave us a few extra kilometres, but more worryingly, almost 2,000m less elevation than Basti’s. But the Hell’s 500 people have since verified our claims, and we’re now listed as the conquerors of Rifle Range in the Everesting Hall of Fame.
Including the 202 climbs up the little dip, Basti clocked 9,498m of altitude. We should have kept going for another 502m to gain access to the High Rouleurs Society, but I guess we'll leave that for another day. The official Everesting time includes breaks, so our attempt goes in the record books as 23 hours, 12 minutes and 4 seconds. The actual time spent in the saddle was 19 hours, 40 minutes and 31 seconds, some 20 minutes better than the pre-ride estimate. We averaged just speed 22.1kph, but when you consider we climbed over 8,848 metres, it's not so bad.
Now that I’ve done it twice, would I do it again? I guess the answer has to be yes, but there will probably be a year or two’s gap before I contemplate it, and I think Singapore is done. It would be good to find a real mountain that hasn’t been Everested, rather than doing another caged-hamster-like attempt on the island. Perhaps back home in Bonnie Scotland.
The monkeys aren’t nocturnal, though, so for our last few hours we only had to concern ourselves with snakes, wild boars (thankfully none showed up) and Basti’s trumpeting elephants, which had seemingly returned as day turned to night.
While he was worrying about phantom elephants, I was worried about my eyes, or rather their failure to see the lines on the descent. You would think that after 170 times through a section of road you could negotiate it automatically, but the brain starts to play tricks on you when you’re tired. A chat with my German friend revealed he had been experiencing a wobble or two also, so we just took it a bit easier for a while, and before we knew it the spell had passed and we were carving through the corners again.
As we gradually counted down the laps and the splits started to get slower, it became apparent that the 10pm goal was never going to be hit, so we reset the target at 11pm. Not that it mattered, there is no time limit for Everesting, but the thought of a hot shower and getting to bed before midnight was appealing.
We broke the last 34 laps into chunks of 12, 11 and 11, but the splits were still getting slower and the breaks consistently running over their allotted 10 minutes. A count of 600 seconds might seem like a decent chunk of time, but it’s not when you’re knackered.
So we missed the 11pm mark too, but not by much as we rolled to a stop for the final time at 11:16pm. Jack had returned to ride the last hour with us so having him there to gee us up and to witness the end of the adventure was cool. And so "Stroker and Rambu's Excellent Everesting Adventure" was over (the title, for those youngsters out there, alludes to our nicknames and a classic comedy movie from 1989). I didn’t quite feel the same elation as I did upon Everesting Mt Faber, this time it was more a mixture of satisfaction and relief that it was over. But it had been a great pleasure to share the day, my 51st birthday, with my good friend Bastian
My watch had lasted the course, but when we clicked "save" on our devices we saw that we had some different data. My 735x gave us a few extra kilometres, but more worryingly, almost 2,000m less elevation than Basti’s. But the Hell’s 500 people have since verified our claims, and we’re now listed as the conquerors of Rifle Range in the Everesting Hall of Fame.
Including the 202 climbs up the little dip, Basti clocked 9,498m of altitude. We should have kept going for another 502m to gain access to the High Rouleurs Society, but I guess we'll leave that for another day. The official Everesting time includes breaks, so our attempt goes in the record books as 23 hours, 12 minutes and 4 seconds. The actual time spent in the saddle was 19 hours, 40 minutes and 31 seconds, some 20 minutes better than the pre-ride estimate. We averaged just speed 22.1kph, but when you consider we climbed over 8,848 metres, it's not so bad.
Now that I’ve done it twice, would I do it again? I guess the answer has to be yes, but there will probably be a year or two’s gap before I contemplate it, and I think Singapore is done. It would be good to find a real mountain that hasn’t been Everested, rather than doing another caged-hamster-like attempt on the island. Perhaps back home in Bonnie Scotland.
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