It has occurred to me, rather late in the day, that riding a sportive is likely to involve riding with other cyclists around me; quite a lot of other cyclists.

My main point of reference for mass participation events is the Great North Run, so I do have some experience of public occasions that involve trying not to career into other people. I also know how it feels to be overtaken on the later stages of the route by a portly fellow in a pink tutu, but I’m guessing the chances of this happening during a sportive are slim.

My previous experience of cycling on the road amongst a group is pretty-much limited to the Randonnée du Tour in Paris (where due to the sheer volume of people we probably didn’t exceed 8mph) and one occasion in January when I met up with my fellow sportive bloggers for a ride in Manchester. This is where I had my induction into the initially baffling world of roadie hand signals.  But if, like me, you’re not a member of a cycling club, I figured a good way to practise a bit of synchronised hand-wafting and not crashing into the wheel in front of you, is to join a guided ride in your local area.

Luckily for me, Saddle Skedaddle were running one from the Cycle Hub in Newcastle a couple of weeks ago. Unluckily for me, the ride was their tribute to the Paris-Roubaix, which they had dubbed “The Hell of the North (East)”. It was described as “100km of seriously challenging riding on a mix of tarmac, cobbles, farm tracks, bridleways and waggonways” and I was encouraged (by which I mean coerced) to ride it on my road bike “as this fits better with the ethos of the Paris-Roubaix, which is to ride entirely unsuitable bikes along entirely unsuitable routes.”

Ideal for someone relatively new to cycling then. I frantically googled “The Ride of Gently Undulating Loveliness” but to no avail, so the Hell of the North East it was.

On the morning of the ride, I and my fellow masochists gathered at the Cycle Hub on Newcastle Quayside and were issued with a handcrafted top tube sticker, outlining the features of the route.  This included “the Somme” (effectively a small swamp at the edge of a farmer’s field), “Porcherie” (pig farm) and “Deportoire” (rubbish dump).  Mmm, really selling it to us.

Within minutes of setting off we encountered our first cobbled climb. Admittedly it was only about 50 metres long, rather than the 50,000 metres the pros ride in northern France, but everyone has to start somewhere.  I was very impressed with the pavé tyres I had borrowed for the occasion, but I’m still struggling with the idea that riding over cobbles is something you would do deliberately. 

The route certainly offered plenty of opportunities to practise pointing at pot holes. Although on a section of broken tarmac road it wasn’t the potholes but a small, white dog with a death wish that was almost my undoing. I gave his whiskers a quick trim with my spokes but somehow we both stayed upright. Is there a hand signal that indicates a tiny suicidal hound hurtling towards you? Do drop me a line so I know what to look out for next time.

As I watched the real Paris-Roubaix on TV the next day, I don’t recall seeing the pros pulling up outside a village hall to gorge on cake and tea at any point. Happily it seems the organisers of the Hell of the North East were willing to bend the rules where cake was concerned.  As we arrived at the Capheaton cafe we had just finished a climb into a headwind and it was starting to rain, so there were smiles all round at the sight of a wood-burning stove, an impressive selection of baking and a lady brandishing a warmed teapot.

After lunch some welcome tarmac and tailwinds eased us into the ride home, but there was no time for complacency as we were about to encounter “Le Carrefour de Killingworth” - a brain-rattling pathway of loose rocks, where I wasn’t so much worried about puncturing as swallowing my own fillings. If bikes could cry there’s a good chance mine would have started to blub at this point.

The pièce de résistance was a lap of the closest thing to the Roubaix velodrome Newcastle has to offer and then there was just time to squeeze in a final cobbled climb before it was all over – probably the most challenging route I’ve ever ridden on a road bike, but a lot of fun in great company and excellent preparation for the sportive season.

If this appeals to you, keep an eye out for future themed rides coinciding with the big bike races.  I’ve already put my name down for the Giro de Newcastle at the end of May...