Loch Ness has occupied a near-mystical spot in my imagination ever since I first saw it as an impressionable 6 year-old from the States, traveling around Europe with my family. It is where the monster hid, the “Great Orm of Loch Ness” (according to a book my mom had), under the dramatic ruins of a castle whose name I couldn't pronounce. And of course it was in the Highlands, the source of kilts and bagpipes and so much history. So, umpteen decades later, living in the UK, when I heard about Etape Loch Ness, a closed-road sportive that starts and ends in Inverness and circles the loch, I immediately wanted to participate.

Fortunately, my wife Ellen liked the idea too, and agreed to take the trip with me, not as a biker, but as a tourist and, let's be fair, chauffeur. Unlike me, she has a UK driver's license, and since I was unable to find a train that could take my bike from Edinburgh to Inverness (probably because other Etapers beat me to it), without her help driving a rental car, I could not have made the trip. Thank you Sweetheart!

I was preparing for Chase the Sun, a 200-mile sportive in June, and Etape Loch Ness, at the end of April and 65 miles long, fit right into the training schedule.

I registered, and was impressed right away by how invested they were in each rider's success. In the weeks before the event, the Etape hosted webinars to help riders prepare. Among other topics, they were very definite and specific about what we needed to carry in our repair kits. (Thanks to them, I now know what a gear hanger is – and have a spare one!)

The Etape is very well planned and organized. According to the start procedure described in an email 3 weeks before the day, the riders were to be split into 4 waves, with groups of riders released at 3 minute intervals between 6 and 6:50 am. If you missed the final wave, you would not be allowed to participate. There was even a video that described the start procedure. Each start wave had its own holding area, where the riders waited for their turn to cross the start line. The fastest riders were put in the first wave, A, so that there would be no one on the road ahead of them to slow them down. I was in wave C.

In-person registration was held the day before the Etape, a Saturday, in Inverness. Since attendance was required, and there was no way we could make the trip from home to Inverness before registration closed, we traveled on Friday. This gave us most of Saturday for playing tourist, and Inverness really charmed us. I'm a sucker for used bookstores, and Leakey's Bookshop is now one of my favorites. I could have spent hours there. Another visit to Inverness may be necessary. We also visited Inverness Castle, dramatically overlooking the River Ness. The current structure was built in the 19th century, but a succession of castles have stood on the site for almost 1,000 years.

We had dinner at an Italian restaurant near the center of town, and I'm convinced that at least 3 other tables were occupied by fellow riders. I learned later that 6,500 riders participated in the Etape. Road closures on a Sunday morning is a small price to pay for the economic boon that the Etape provides. They have big incentive to be make it a success!

We'd chosen a bed and breakfast close to downtown, so I didn't have far to go the next morning. RideWithGPS says that my ride to the start began at 5:26 am. It wasn't hard to find my holding area. It was essentially a giant queue, and plenty of people had arrived before me. After some waiting, then some shuffling, then walking, and finally, riding, I crossed the start line at 6:21.

I've returned to the loch a few times since my first visit as a boy, and, knowing how narrow and busy the road is along the northwest side of the loch, there was no way I was going to bike it unless the road was closed. At the start, the riders easily filled both sides of the road. Every road and driveway entering the route had a traffic cone closing it off, and there were plenty of marshals, with flags and whistles, to keep us on the route.

We went down the west side of the loch, and came back on the east side. The route is pretty flat, except for a killer hill just after going through Fort Augustus at the southern end of the loch. We'd been told that, if you needed to walk your bike, you should do so on the left shoulder of the road. I was hoping not to be one of the walkers. Regardless of how you get there, at the top of hill there is, by tradition, a bagpiper, to help you celebrate your accomplishment.

The route is divided into 5 roughly equal sections by 4 support stops. The first section, to Drumnadrochit, went quickly. Everyone was fresh and eager to go. The riders were still bunched up, and I was constantly passing and being passed. When we reached Drumnadrochit, as early as it was, there were plenty of townsfolk lining the route and cheering us on. Throughout the ride I was impressed by the sincerity and enthusiasm of the supporters. It always put a smile on my face.

When we turned east out of Drumnadrochit to head back to the loch, I eagerly anticipated a view of Urquhart Castle, majestically overlooking the loch. We did indeed pass the castle, but alas it was too far from the road for the view to live up to my expectations. A return visit will be necessary to give it the attention it deserves.

Just past the castle was the first support stop. I did not stop, but in passing, I counted 18 porta-potties!

The next section was, for the most part, just a stone's throw from the loch. Again, it was very flat. My memory and video from that section include good views of the loch, sometimes through a few trees.

The next support stop was at Invermoriston. There were plenty of food and drink choices, loos, and even a bike mechanic. I grabbed something quickly and returned to the road.

It wasn't long before we came into Fort Augustus, at the southwestern end of the loch. As in every town we went through, people were in front of their houses, and on street corners, cheering us on. There was even a firetruck parked on a side road, with the firefighters next to it, shouting encouragement.

Just on the far side of Fort Augustus, at the end of the loch, was a good place for views up the length of the loch. Riders were stopping to get selfies, so I got one too.

Immediately after that, the hill started. I won't sugarcoat this – it was tough. Over 5 miles the average slope was 4.5%. The steepest section was 11%. There had been occasional conversation, but it was replaced by the sound of people working hard on their bikes. Sure enough, there were a few walkers, obediently on the left side of the road. I spent most of those 5 miles in my lowest gear, but training paid off -- I did not have to resort to walking. After what seemed like hours, but was actually 40 minutes, there was the piper at the top of the hill. You could hear him before you could see him. I like bagpipe music, but never so much as on this day.

Over the next 10 miles, the route descended 1250 feet. I covered it in about half an hour, so I averaged 20 miles an hour for that stretch. Last year, Tadej Pogacar averaged 27 mph while winning the Tour de France. Even going downhill, I was way slower! Guess there's still a long way to go if I'm going to fulfill my dream of becoming a pro rider.

The last support stop was at mile 54. I stopped and, with the encouragement of a marshal, took a handful of High 5 Energy Gels. Evidently she was worried that she'd have too many at the end of the day.

In a few more miles the route left the shore of the loch, and houses and connecting roads became more numerous. But also, for the first time, there were brief sections when I was alone on the road.

Not much later I was in Inverness, passing between the river and the castle. A left turn took us over the river to the finish line. Ellen was there and gave a whoop as I passed. The announcer at the finish line somehow knew what riders were approaching and announced their names as they crossed – a nice touch.

The Etape was everything I was hoping for: challenging, inspiring, scenic, fun, well organized and well run. If you're looking for an adventure on your bike, it deserves consideration.

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The biggest obstacle to my riding in the Dunwich Dynamo was removed when Ellen, my wife, graciously offered to pick me up after the ride. Since the ride ends on the beach at Dunwich on Sunday at sunrise, this meant she would drive there on Saturday and spend the night. Without hesitation, she reserved a rental car and booked a VRBO. That problem solved, I got serious about my own preparation.

Having trained for, and participated in, several other sportives earlier in the calendar, I was in pretty good shape and did not feel a need to adjust my training schedule.

This being a night ride, I wanted to be sure that I had enough lights to see and be seen. Two red lights facing rearward, one on my helmet and one on my trunk bag, and a strong forward-facing headlight, are what I settled on. The manual of the headlight said that it would last 3 hours. Considering that I'd be riding about 8 hours, out of an abundance of caution, I packed 4 headlights, and 3 rear lights. It turned out to be an over-abundance of caution, but more on that later.

To test my kit, and as part of my attempt to turn my usual sleep/wake cycle on its head, I took a couple of late-night rides. I enjoyed the rides much more than I expected. With the stars overhead, peaceful night-sounds in my ears, and miles ticking by beneath the tires, what's not to enjoy? Night rides, at least during the summer, will continue to be part of my training.

In the week before the ride, I tried to sleep later and go to bed later than usual, but with mixed results. On the day of the ride, I tried to nap, but spent four hours lying awake. I guess it helped.

Because the ride is semi-organized, there is no registration, and no official start time. You just show up and ride. There is a route posted on the website, but no one will complain if you adapt it to your own needs.

With the goal of reaching Dunwich beach at sunrise, I aimed to start riding at 7:30 the night before. Arriving at Pub on the Park, in London, the traditional start of the ride, I was impressed by the number of bikers.

This is no under-the-radar ride; in the years since it started (in 1992, according to Wikipedia), it has gathered quite a following. There were bikers everywhere, and based on the number of groups sitting around blankets with food in the park, one could get the impression that picnic dinner is the traditional way to kick off the ride. Alas, I had not brought a picnic basket, so, as others had before me, I started riding.

One thing that attracted me to the DD was my memories of a similar ride in my hometown. St. Louis, Missouri, where I grew up, has an annual ride called the Moonlight Ramble. Held every summer, on the Saturday night in August closest to the full moon, it's a midnight-start ride on closed roads through downtown St. Louis. It's not nearly as long as the DD, or as dark (because you're almost always under street lights), but the sense of nighttime adventure is the same. I rode it as a kid, and then later Ellen and I rode it with our two daughters. It's a bit tight now, but a shirt from the 1984 Ramble has pride of place in my T-shirt drawer.

According to RideWithGPS, I started riding at 7:09. A little over an hour later, I crossed over the M25, and things were starting to look more rural. The sun was setting over my left shoulder, and I stopped to take it in.

Scouts in Fyfield had set up a feed station, complete with hot food. I stopped there for dinner and couldn't help noticing the Pinoy Brompton Cycle Club. They were riding 100 miles on folding bikes! Some of the bikes were decorated with strings of small, colorful lights – like mobile Christmas trees. Some bikes were carrying stereos. The helmets of some of the members were decorated with zip ties that stood straight up. They were really enjoying themselves!social.trom.tf/photos/dirk/ima…

Bromptons weren't the only unexpected bikes I saw on the ride. There was the penny- farthing that I passed at another feed stop. And the mother towing two of her kids in a trailer, all the way from London to Dunwich! And the guy carrying his dog on a cargo bike. I found the ride challenging enough on my regular road bike; I can't imagine how much harder it was for these folks.

The route itself was well chose: the roads were good with rolling hills; no long, grinding uphills; not much traffic; the towns and stops were evenly spaced. As with my after-dark training rides, this night ride was very pleasant.

My second lengthy stop was at The Wheatsheaf in Castle Hedingham at about 11 pm. When I walked in, a man saw me, in my helmet and biking gear, and said “Oh, here's another one.” The seven other men at the bar turned around as one and I found myself the centre of attention. Questions came my way: “Would you like a pint? Would you like some crisps? Are you satisfied with your progress?” I felt a little embarrassed asking for the loo, but some things can't wait. After taking care of business, and answering questions, I retired to a table in the garden, to enjoy my ginger beer in peace. (Being a celebrity is so demanding!) I had stayed on my bike past some popular food stops in the last 90 minutes, and perhaps was now in the vanguard of the DD riders, making me a novelty to the regulars at the Wheatsheaf.

I was 52 miles in – about halfway. Feeling a rest had been earned, I spent some time texting friends and relations in the US with updates on my progress.

I keep feeling that I should describe the scenery, but I saw precious little of it. All there was to see was the tunnel of light in front of the bike, and the road it illuminated. Sometimes there were trees over the road; sometimes there were hedges next to it. I should go back sometime to see what I missed.

My next stop was the feed station in Needham Market at about 1:30. As usual, I was surprised by the number of riders – there were just so many. Vendors were selling hot food and drinks in a park next to a lake. I sat down on a bench. Nearby, a couple of friends were discussing the meaning of life. One of them, an American, seems to have come to the UK expressly for the DD. If they arrived at any profound conclusions, I do not remember – I was pretty tired.

I expected to get to the beach between 4 and 4:30. Ellen wanted to meet me there, but her VRBO was not close, so she requested plenty of advance notice. According to my phone history, I called her at 2:37 am. I felt sorry about waking her up. God bless her!

For most of the ride, I had seen plenty of other riders, but by this time it wasn't unusual to be alone on the road for significant stretches.

The closer that I got to the beach, the harder the ride became, not because of the route itself – the hardest parts were behind me – but because I was tired, sleep deprived, and losing motivation. Ellen thinks it was because I wasn't eating enough. Maybe so. All I had in my water bottles was energy drink, but I was sick of it. There might have been places to stop for water, but I was too stubborn to stop. I don't remember seeing any feed stations in the last couple of hours. They may have existed, but I suspect that, like me, most riders were too focused on getting to the beach.

Sometime before I checked it around 3:45, the rear light on my bike ran out of power, but the one on my helmet was still working. My front light was still working too. It seemed fainter, but I didn't know if this was because it was losing power or because the eastern sky was getting brighter; dawn had begun. In any case, I was unwilling to stop and make any changes. I brought so many extra lights, and they were heavy, but I didn't use any of them!

In spite of my waning motivation, I did make it to the beach at 4:19 am, 9 hours and 11 minutes after leaving Pub on the Park. Ellen was there with food and words of praise and comfort. We waited for sunrise, which was at 5:04. There were plenty of people already there, with a long queue for food. A couple of motor coaches were in the parking lot, chartered to take riders and bikes back to London. Exhausted riders were slumbering on the beach, waiting for the coaches to depart.

The sunrise wasn't as dramatic as we'd hoped, being behind a cloud, but it was gratifying none the less.

I took a dip in the ocean, as a number of other riders were doing as well, and then we heading back to Ellen's VRBO. I took a shower and it felt wonderful, then we headed home.

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