Jamie heads out MTB Epics’ Bristol Bath 200 to discover that adventure riding isn’t about suffering for suffering’s sake.
Four days, 200 miles, nearly 6,000 metres of climbing, countless bacon sarnies and pints. The MTB Epics Bristol Bath 200 is about seeing new places, meeting new people and occasionally rattling your eyeballs loose on a rocky descent.
Words and blurry photos by Jamie Edwards.
18-year-old me would be so disappointed!
I used to spend my weekends razzing around on downhill bikes. Steep tracks, long-travel bikes, full-face helmets. Things have really taken a turn.
Last weekend I rode my bike 200 miles. Lycra shorts. Clip-in pedals. An XC bike. A bloomin’ XC bike. I don’t even have a peak on my helmet.
Like so many of you, I fell deeply in love with gravel riding during lockdown. Boris told us to stay close to home, so we all bought drop-bar bikes and went crackers doing laps of our local doubletrack. That inevitably turned into bike-packing, bigger and bigger rides, bivvying, the full works. The gravel bike eventually morphed back into a mountain bike, but the enthusiasm for sleeping in hedges, drinking beers in the forest and going on rides that are about four hours longer than is reasonably comfortable continued.
What I did learn, though, was that not everyone shares my burning passion for uncomfortable sleep, garage-bought food and a chafed arse. Not everyone wants to spend perfectly good DIY time riding laps of their local National Park in the rain, covered in cow shit. If I wanted to do this stuff, I’d have to bloody well get on with it and do it myself rather than waiting around for calendars and enthusiasms to align.
I see a lot of folks at these events turning up solo and just getting on with it.
You know, the weird old dude you get lumped with on the biking holiday because he’s booked on alone? Eighteen-year-old me used to think these old buggers were a bit odd and needed to find some more mates. As the years have gone on, though, I’ve realised they’re the ones with the superpower. They’re getting on with it, getting fun stuff booked and not sitting around waiting for someone else to show up and keep them company.
So I texted my mate Matt, co-organiser of MTB Epics, and got myself signed up for the Bristol Bath 200. Two hundred miles, loads of off-road riding, four days and three nights. You arrive at the start and ride your bike. They ferry your gear between campsites and provide food. No need to carry a load of camping gear, strap heaps of weight to your bike or even choose a hedge to sleep in.
The distance seemed fairly chunky, but it was on familiar terrain and the idea of not having to carry a load of camping gear definitely appealed. The route starts in Bath, takes a big loop up to Warminster, then drops south into the Mendip Hills before returning to Bath. The first night is spent at one campsite, while the second and third nights are based from another.
Of course, if you don’t fancy the easy option, you can do the Unsupported version, for double-hard bastards only. You start two days later, carry all your gear and attempt to finish the route as quickly as possible. Most ride it in one go, pedalling straight through the night and treating it like a race. It’s not a race, but the first rider across the line completed it in 18 hours with no sleep. For reference, and spoilers, it took me four days and I slept about eight hours every night.
Day One
Day one was an early start in Bath. Quick coffee at the pub, bag of camping gear into the van and a short speech from the organisers. Then we were off en masse.
The crowd quickly thinned as we winched out of the city on tarmac, then farm track, then proper off-road. Big climb to start with, followed by some very fun and fast bridleways.
There’s no guiding or signposts. You simply load the route onto your Garmin and ride. Stop when you want, go at whatever pace you like, chill or punt it.
My old sparring partner and bikepacking buddy Simon found me on the first climb and we settled into a steady but firmly zone 2-ish pace that would stick for most of the week. We took an early coffee stop and just chipped away. With 100km and nearly 2,000m of climbing to do, there was no point blowing up on the first hill.
I’d expected to be riding solo but was pretty happy to find a familiar face for the week. I wasn’t sad to defer that lesson to another trip.
My first observation was the sheer mix of bikes. Lots of full-suspension bikes. Plenty of fast and light XC bikes. Some very over-biked enduro setups. A few gravel bikes.
I chose my Stanton Sherpa with fast XC tyres, inserts and a frame bag. I’m pretty comfortable on the off-road sections, so I’d rather sacrifice a bit of grip for a faster-rolling setup that’ll help on the tarmac. I think it was the right choice, although I’m now Googling full-suspension XC bikes for future trips.
The first day was fairly classic gravel riding in my book. A few sneaky singletracks, loads of tarmac and plenty of doubletrack and loose surfaces up on Salisbury Plain. Nothing too challenging. We got a bit lost and missed some proper mountain bike trails but no matter. We had fun and covered a whole load of distance. We got rained on. We dried out.
We finished the day in Warminster with a beer, some loamy singletrack through Longleat and then on to the campsite. Wood-fired pizza for dinner, a couple of beers and an early night with very satisfied legs.
First lesson learned. Be cautious about your GPX downloads. Routes planned in RideWithGPS, dropped into Komoot and then squidged out into a Garmin rarely work as the route-master intended. Stick with whatever platform the organiser’s used to plot the route, or you’ll risk missing those trail entrances and bypass some gems.
Day Two
Day two taught me the template for the rest of the week. Up around seven. Coffee, porridge, toast, fruit provided by the organisers. Pack the tent. Stuff some supplies into the bike bags and hit the road.
Second breakfast came about 20km later with a proper coffee and a bacon sarnie. With 200 miles to get through, there’s no point worrying about stuffing your face. Just enjoy yourself and pile in the calories.
At one point organiser Matt interrogated me about what I’d eaten that day. I was surprised to get a telling off after listing what I thought was an obscene amount of food. “FFS Jamie, that’s not enough. Get more in you right now.”
It’s easy to forget that on multi-day rides you’re not just eating for energy. You’re eating for recovery and to build the foundations for the following days.
Our second day was a game of two halves.
Lots of tarmac and gravel in the morning, then a sudden change with the first of two outrageously bashy, rocky and rough descents down to Cheddar. Things were starting to hot up. Big lunch, big climb up Cheddar Gorge, chain gang along the top and then more rattling my eyeballs loose on long, smashy descents. We were definitely not grinding road miles any more and I was immediately in awe of the unsupported riders doing this stuff at night with serious mileage already in their legs. Different game entirely. I’m glad I wasn’t on a gravel bike.
We winched back up out of Cheddar for the second time and then up into the Mendip Hills. More rain and then into the mountain bike trails at Rowberrow, a warren of tight, twisty, rooty singletrack. Matt’s route took us through some beautiful volunteer-built blue trails. Nothing too difficult but plenty of berms, lips and rollers. It felt like a real treat getting to ride this stuff on an XC bike deep into the second full day of the adventure. Damp woods. Loose dirt. Rain in the air. Proper adventure vibes.
I sound like a complete wanker when I say, but I think it’s those vibey, atmospheric moments that I love most about riding bikes.
We finished the day with a pint at The Crown, a beautiful old stone pub a stone’s throw from camp.
The log fire was roaring and the local farmers were intrigued to hear what we’d been up to over a pint of kask. Big climb to finish, then into camp for chilli and chips, live music and another big night’s sleep.
One of my favourite parts of the trip was seeing other riders roll past whenever we stopped at a café or pub. Before long they’d spot our bikes, come over and get drawn into the conversation. Before we knew it, the venue would be full of hungry and thirsty riders sharing stories, causing chaos,raising glasses and swapping tales about where they were from and what they loved about riding.
I should admit that I cheated slightly at this point. The event is local for me and much of what we were riding was within easy reach of home. No, I didn’t sneak home. But I did bring my camper van up for the second and third nights, both of which were at the same location. It added some faff and felt a little like cheating, but it made for some fine nights’ sleep and allowed me to pack a few spares. Totally unnecessary though. No regrets.
For everyone else, the organisers ferry your tent, sleeping bag and gear between locations. All you need to do is put it up and take it down. One reasonably large bag per rider is allowed.
Day Three
Day three was special.
The legs were starting to feel it, but my confidence was growing and I was relaxing into the ride. I’d worried I might run out of steam, get fed up with riding solo, end up in a taxi with an unfixable puncture or encounter any number of other imagined disasters. But I’d survived the two biggest days and familiar terrain lay ahead.
I came into the event wanting to get more comfortable doing big, multi-day rides and it felt like that was going to plan. I hadn’t died. My legs hadn’t fallen off.
I was fairly sure I was going to make it to the finish. Having a wingman for much of the ride was also an unexpected morale boost that made the whole thing a lot more enjoyable.
We rattled down a big rough descent out of camp to start the day, covered some ground on the road, and then it was time for a lap of my local woods and favourite backyard XC trails. We took a minute to sample some local berms, rode along the beach, grabbed more bacon sarnies and then headed uphill again. More teeth-rattling descents. Beautiful hilltop singletrack. More rain. Coffee, cake, pint. Job done.
The organisers kept day three fun, very off-road and noticeably shorter at around 65km, giving everyone something of a rest day. Still not easy by any means and my hands were beginning to feel pretty beaten up, but it was a great feeling.
By this point, the Bristol Bath 200 class of 2026 felt like it was gelling nicely. We were learning names, finding out where people were from, sharing snacks, helping with mechanicals, and dishing out the usual amount of piss-taking. I don’t think there’s much risk of riding alone all week if you turn up to an event like this on your own.
Day Four
Then the final day rolled around.
Same routine. Early start, big breakfast, coffee, snacks stuffed into every pocket and roll out of camp. Knowing it was the final evening, we’d got a little cockier with the refreshments and risked a couple more beers than on previous nights.
Don’t expect much nightlife at these events. People are generally tucked up in bed early and ready for a proper night’s sleep. That said, I never struggled to find people to chat to, share a beer with and unwind alongside in the evenings. My brain needs some downtime off the bike on trips like this.
It’s all part of the recovery process, right?
The pace was inevitably a bit wearier that morning. Hands were aching from descending, bums were feeling tender and heads were just slightly sore from the local ales. I was excited to get the ride finished and enjoy a day off. But I’d have to be patient. We still had 80km of some of the best riding of the entire trip ahead of us.
We’d spent most of the week deep in the middle of nowhere, but Sunday saw us barrelling off the Mendips, through the Chew Valley and over towards Bristol. First came a rough and rocky bridleway descent, then tight and twisty secret singletrack, then into the city for laps of Ashton Court and Leigh Woods. Perfect terrain for a short-travel hardtail with fast tyres.
We were treated to a complimentary can of pop and an ice cream courtesy of Pedal Progression before rolling into the final leg.
We dodged traffic as the route led us straight through Bristol city centre, weaving through tourists before dropping back onto the riverside path towards Bath. The final boss of the ride was definitely the Bristol and Bath Railway Path. Technically simple compared to the off-road batterings of the previous days, but difficult in its own way.
Bristol felt like the finish, but we were still in the wrong city and had another hour or so of riverside trail and fast tarmac to chew through before reaching the end. My hands were really feeling it by this point. Si was putting the hammer down. I was ready to be done and eat some chips.
I think that feeling of being completely over it, while still not being finished, is important on rides like this. It’s important to discover that you’ve usually got more left in the tank than you think.
We passed what my Garmin insisted was the finish and somehow kept going. “Where the fuck are we going?” I remember grumbling. Si has a habit of being a bit “creative” with the route. We turned a corner and there it was. The pub where we’d started four days earlier. Done. Finito. The end. Garmin stopped. Hug from my riding buddy. Congratulations from organiser Matt. Two pints and chips, please. Make it a burger and chips, actually, please mate.
Two hundred miles. Nearly 6,000m of climbing. Nearly 30 hours of moving time. Not a bad week of bicycle riding.
Final Thoughts
My advice to anyone looking to spend more time riding is simple. Embrace events like this. Enter something local, see how you get on, meet some new faces and jump on the opportunities being created by organisers like MTB Epics.
They’re pre-packaged adventures. There’s no planning required. Free up some time in your diary and you’ve got a ready-made escape. No need to wait for the riding group’s availability, enthusiasm, faff. Perfect for time-poor, bike-hungry people juggling jobs, families and the dreaded DIY.
Other lessons?
Eat loads. Like really, really loads both on the bike, in the morning and when you land back into camp. Do your zone 2 homework before you go. Drink far more water than you think you need and use hydration tabs. You don’t need an XC bike, but you do need fast-rolling tyres. Stop for a coffee. Stop for a beer. Enjoy yourself. Invest in some chamois cream and carry a small tube on the bike just in case. Once you’ve finished, prioritise recovery. Stretch, sleep properly and pile in the protein. Don’t panic about riding alone, you’ll find someone to talk to.
Thanks to Matt and Vince for having me along and organising fun experiences for us all. And thanks to Si, my riding buddy for the week, for the company.
If you fancy joining in, MTB Epics have their Cotswolds 100 event in September with a baggage-transfer option.
It’s 100 miles with a campsite at the halfway point, and they’ll move your gear to and from the start so all you have to worry about is the riding.
