There’s masked gremlins taunting riders from the side of the course, but it seems like there might also be some (of the mechanical type) buried in the gravel peloton at the Lakeland Gravel Grinder too. Gravel aficionado Oisin Sands headed to the 2023 Lakelander Gravel Event. We won’t enquire where his ride report has been hiding in the intervening period, but it makes fantastic reading and might inspire you to sign up for this year’s event.
"Almost the entire 100km long course is on gravel, with just a few km of quiet back roads connecting the gravel forestry tracks that typify the parcours."
Sitting just east of Donegal, in the north of Ireland, Belcoo is not exactly on the tourist trail - but for Irish gravel cyclists this quiet Frermanagh town is fast attaining Mecca-like status.
The reason for this is the Lakelander Gravel Grinder. Now in its 5th edition, the Lakelander has established itself as top dog on the Irish gravel scene, treating all comers to a choice of three tough courses amid the hills and lakes of Fermanagh’s forests.
The Lakelander is run by Primal Challenges whose director, Rowan McMahon, is a regular on local gravel and MTB rides where I live in the Mournes. Rowan’s a seasoned ultra racer and by his own admission a map addict: even sitting at home watching TV with his family, he’ll have the phone or laptop open, plotting new routes to test on his guinea pigs, the Rostrevor-based NTSR crew.
It takes patience and a practised eye to put together a decent gravel route in Ireland, not helped by Coillte (the Irish Forestry Service)’s recent policy of banning gravel cycling events on its land. But Rowan hit paydirt in the Lakelander - almost the entire 100km long course is on gravel, with just a few km of quiet back roads connecting the gravel forestry tracks that typify the parcours.
"If you think a Citroen MPV can’t be exciting, you’ve never driven a diesel that’s running out of Adblue."
Cyclists from the UK will likely be familiar with the Dirty Reiver. The terrain here is similar to Kielder Forest - undulating, rough gravel tracks that unroll for miles on end through a pine forested wilderness.
This was my second attempt at the Lakelander and, as so often, I had unfinished business. Last year I broke a spoke in my front wheel shortly after the halfway point. I nursed the bike safely back to base but with a mental asterisk placed by my finish time… I demanded a rematch.
A year rolled round and the day of the 2023 Lakelander finally arrived like gravel Christmas. I set out on the drive to Belcoo with my bike strapped to the roof of my car. It won’t surprise anyone to hear that the weather on this Irish October morning was overcast, but we were in for an unexpected treat with temperatures predicted to reach a sizzling 19 degrees by afternoon. Tights and gilet stayed in the drawer, this was a last hurrah for short sleeves.
The drive was thrilling, not so much for the scenery but I’d stolen my wife’s car for the day. If you think a Citroen MPV can’t be exciting, you’ve never driven a diesel that’s running out of Adblue. According to the irritating warning message on the dash, I'd under 100 miles left before it would fail to start.
"Pretty sure I invented a new yoga position - the leash-entangled dog? - while trying to free the straps on my bib shorts from the gearstick."
But how much under 100 miles, was the question? I didn’t know, but I wasn’t going to risk stopping for snacks. Narrowly avoiding a stall at traffic lights in Armagh, I made it safely to Belcoo in one hit - a very respectable hour before the 10:30 start time - and parked up in a ditch outside HQ.
Belcoo was buzzing, with pop-up stalls from Specialized and a couple of Irish brands including Scribe Wheels. Registration only took a minute, then it was back to the car to wriggle into my kit. Pretty sure I invented a new yoga position - the leash-entangled dog? - while trying to free the straps on my bib shorts from the gearstick but eventually I emerged more or less attired, pockets stuffed with pump and a couple of gels, ready for battle.
"Riders inexplicably toppled sideways into hedges at the first sight of gravel/an uphill gradient, like swooning Edwardian ladies catching a glimpse of a naked piano leg."
The Lakelander begins with a mass rolling start, officially neutralised for a few km until the entrance to the woods. While it’s all very civilised, it’s also the most dangerous part of your day as the sheer density of pedal-powered personnel on the narrow road threatens carnage at any moment.
We made it to the starting mat at an enforced leisurely pace and sure enough there were immediately a couple of close calls as riders inexplicably stopped dead or toppled sideways into hedges at the first sight of gravel/an uphill gradient, like swooning Edwardian ladies catching a glimpse of a naked piano leg.
One rider, attempting to swerve a stricken chap dead ahead, veered into my path and our bars clashed like the antlers of rutting stags for a moment. I put in a kick and paced up the outside verge trying to find a bit of breathing space.
"The hours will fly by in a blur of flying grit, mucky rainwater, lactic acid and gallows humour from your fellow riders."
The pack soon thinned out - at least a half dozen assorted mechanicals and punctures helping to clear the route - and I relaxed into a steady pace enjoying the crunch of grit beneath the tyres. Rowan had said the course was running fast this year, with the forestry deciding not to lay a fresh load of gravel after a recent car rally, and indeed the going seemed more firmly packed than last year - although with a few treacherous loose gravel traps at the bottom of descents to look out for.
The Lakelander Gravel Grinder soon lived up its name, it was almost all gravel and there was plenty of grinding: of gravel but also of teeth and gears as the parcours romped merrily up a succession of wicked ramps and ripping descents.
It’s a blast to ride, and since 60 or even 100km seems a relatively short distance - at least by granfondo standards - Lakelander throws down the gauntlet, daring stronger riders to smash along at full throttle to try and achieve a 4-hour effort.
Even a race-fit road rider (and the event attracts more of these each year) will quickly realise that gravel is a different beast to road riding. A sub 4-hour time (average speed 25kph+) is a real achievement here. The Big Dog course packs in nearly 2000m of climbing and most entrants will be looking at 4.5-6hrs in the saddle. But the hours will fly by in a blur of flying grit, mucky rainwater, lactic acid and gallows humour from your fellow riders.
The atmosphere on the event is friendly and down to earth, thanks in part to the wide mix of people it attracts - you’ll find mountain bikers aplenty here, perhaps even a majority, along with a healthy peloton of open-minded roadies for whom the Lakelander is maybe their first or only gravel event of the year. And then there's the Irish gravel mafia, for whom the Grinder, as one of very few organised gravel rides in the country, has become an annual pilgrimage, as they gather like swallows to the lakes of Fermanagh to mark the end of summer.
For all that, I barely spoke for the first 2hrs of the ride because I was trying - very hard - to beat my time from the previous year. I exchanged a couple of words early on with a rider who, as he passed, said he’d got some great footage of me pointing at his action camera (I found it afterwards, and it sure is some premium footage of my backside if that's what you’re into). After that it was head down and trying to manage the pace as best I could, aiming for a 4.5 hour finishing time.
"A small throng of dancing dervishes in Halloween masks cheered and whooped encouragement to passing riders."
The first really testing hill of the course came at Belmore forest. In the past couple of years this hill has assumed iconic status among Lakelander aficionados thanks to the efforts of some locals who’ve turned it into what’s now known as Belmore Bend: think Fermanagh’s answer to the Kapelmuur of Flanders, or Dutch Corner on Alpe d’Huez, but with strong “The Hills Have Eyes”/ Appalachian gothic vibes.
Approaching the climb, I heard the clang of cowbells and as the summit neared, a small throng of dancing dervishes in Halloween masks cheered and whooped encouragement to passing riders.
This same goulish crew are behind the hand-painted signs that festoon the opening section of the course, bearing motivational slogans like “You paid for this” and “Free banana - 50km this way”. They are not, as I first assumed, affiliated to the Lakelander, but rather they are the friends and relatives of a local cycling nut, Marmy Nagi - who also happened to be riding the event himself at a very handy speed. The atmosphere they generate is fantastic, and I suspect the Lakelander organisers are only half joking when they talk about bussing up a coachload of locals to Belmore Bend for future editions.
Cowbells still ringing in my ears I cracked on, ears flattened and eyes narrowed against the spray of grit from the tyres in front. Pine woods, mist wreathed lakes, a rollercoaster of leg-aching gravel climbs and dicey descents passed in a blur, the focus intent on line choice, reeling in the occasional rider, ducking in and out of small groups all the way.
I sailed through the first feed, relying instead on my stash of gels and chocolate, and was probably 15 minutes up on last year's progress by the time the second feed arrived. This stop marks the top end of the course, on the shores of Lough Erne. I unclipped here for the first time and squinted through the clouds at the lough below while power-munching a banana, before saddling up to rejoin the route.
Now pointed for the finish, I was feeling good and morale was high. But the Lakelander had other plans. No more than 30 seconds out of the feed stop, I tried to shift gear and the lever clicked uselessly. I pulled over for a look, and discovered the unthinkable had happened: the gear cable had snapped.
"In all my years of cycling I’ve broken quite a lot of things - on bikes and on myself - but I’d never actually snapped a derailleur cable before."
In all my years of cycling I’ve broken quite a lot of things - on bikes and on myself - but I’d never actually snapped a derailleur cable before. Why is it always the Lakelander that throws up these novelties?
I run Campagnolo Ekar on my gravel bike, so figured there was minimal chance of finding a spare cable from the event mechanics. But there was still 40km to ride and the bike was now stuck in top gear - a regrettably hefty one, thanks to Ekar’s 9-tooth smallest “sprint” cog. What to do?
I could limp back to the nearest feed station and await rescue, but that didn’t appeal much; my bike was still technically rideable, after all. I decided to roll on and complete the course, reconciling myself to the prospect of walking up every hill or indeed slight incline of more than 3%. On the plus side the bulk of the climbing was behind me, including the infamous Navar Ending Climb that stretches for some 7km, but I knew there were still a few chunky hills to get over as the course wound its way south back to the start point.
"I borrowed a pair of cable cutters and snipped off the cable. At least my bike was now a few grams lighter for the remaining hills!"
The next 10 miles were a slow, attritional affair as I gunned down the descents trying to carry momentum into the inevitable climb on the other side where I'd stand in the saddle and churn ever more slowly until my legs, burning, gave up and I’d unclip to walk the remainder. My interesting tactics attracted some attention from passing riders, and at least a dozen slowed to offer help or sympathy once they spotted there was an issue and I wasn’t just a masochist who liked trying to ride up 12% ramps in top gear.
One guy stopped and suggested I might physically clamp the derailleur in a better position using a zip tie, which he gave me; I’d already considered and dismissed the idea of wrapping the severed cable end (which had frayed and snapped in the shifter, so there was plenty of spare length) around some part of the frame or even my saddle rails to lock the derailleur, but thought this idea was worth a shot. I couldn’t make it hold though; there’s a strong spring in the rear mech and there wasn’t a suitable attachment point for the cable. At that point the event support car rolled up and Killian, another Rostrevor man, hopped out to see could he help. I borrowed a pair of cable cutters and snipped off the cable; at least my bike was now a few grams lighter for the remaining hills!
Tough as the climbs were, the most frustrating part was one of my favourite sections where the course suddenly hops off the forestry roads and onto a narrow ribbon of muddy singletrack that winds through woodland along the shores of a lake. It’s a blast - more like a section of MTB trail or a pump track - but stuck in my sprinty gear I could barely carry momentum through it.
A few more km of walking-riding-walking followed until I was caught up by Mark, a friendly young chap who, seeing the problem, had a brainwave: why not dial in the adjustment screw on the derailleur to move it up a few cogs?
I held the bike while he deftly tightened the screw as far as it would go. I spun the cranks and the chain hopped up three cogs to land in 4th gear. Genius!
After the past hour of hiking, the rest of the ride was a pleasure cruise. The gear was still too high for some of the climbs, but it was a world of improvement and I was able to keep pace with a few riders including Mark most of the way to the finish. We chatted a bit until he dropped me on a hill, he works for the Water Service and this was his local patch, he explained; he rides some of these tracks year round. Mark if you’re reading this, you’re a gentleman - thank you.
The last couple of miles on the Lakelander are a gradual descent, a fact that I’m sure annoys Rowan greatly and if there was a way to have the course run only uphill, he would seize it. On the day I was very grateful though, my singlespeed gearing was perfect and I romped over the finish line buzzing from an exhilarating, muck-splattered blast home into low afternoon sunshine.
Under the finishing arch I swapped my GPS tracker for a chunky medal and along with a few other finishers rolled a couple of smooth tarmac miles down a peaceful country lane back to event HQ.
"Before my burger was half finished I was already plotting a return in 2024."
Say what you like about Lakelander, they give you a hard time out on the course, but once you get to the finish you’re well rewarded. The scent of burgers sizzling on a grill wafted around the grounds, while a long table groaned under the weight of bottled beverages from local brewery Inish Mac Saint.
On the lawns around the clubhouse weary but happy riders, caked in finest Fermanagh filth were tucking into their hot food and beers to an upbeat playlist from the sound system. I joined them and before my burger was half finished I was already plotting a return in 2024.
Frenetic, friendly, filthy fun - and a full-on hill fest - the Lakelander Gravel Grinder has rightly put Fermanagh on the gravel cycling map. A genuine Irish gravel classic.
The Lakelander Gravel Grinder returns on Saturday 5 October 2024. Entries are open now, here.
Images courtesy of Oisin Sands, except where credited
How to get there
Belcoo is around 2 hours by car from Dublin or Belfast. It’s about 45 minutes from the west coast and the wild Atlantic beauty of Mayo, Sligo (Yeats country) and Donegal. There’s also plenty to do in Fermanagh if you want to make a weekend of it: we’d recommend the Cuilcagh boardwalk trail up the county’s highest mountain and the Marble Arch Caves, a labyrinth of natural caverns with guided tours including a boat ride on an underground lake. The nearby town of Belleek is famed for its pottery tours, while Fermanagh’s largest town Enniskillen, located on an island between upper and lower Lough Erne, boasts many attractions including its castle and the Boatyard Distillery, where you can pick up a personalised bottle of organic gin. Just the tonic for weary gravellers!