News & Features

Tonight, 44 cyclists dared to answer the call of one of the most nerve-wracking trials our hillclimb series has to offer: the formidable Blaze Hill. The heavens themselves seemed to reward their courage, granting the riders conditions not seen for an age. For a 7pm evening in the notoriously temperamental Peak District, the air was uniquely blessed, holding a golden warmth of 22 degrees while riders were carried ever upward by the merciful hand of a gentle tailwind in parts.

Though the gradient promised pure torment, the battleground itself offered an uncharacteristic luxury. While our rising contenders may not yet have claimed the velvet cushions of the royal throne on the National stage, they ascended tonight riding upon the proverbial comfort of a sofa. Such was the silken, flawless perfection of the tarmac that tyres usually reserved for the smoothest, polished velodromes were confidently deployed by some. Riders climbed at maximum speed without the haunting fear of punctures. This audacious gamble absolutely cannot be dared next week, when our racers must return to the gritty forest floor.

For most present tonight, Blaze Hill is a lurking terror avoided as though their very lives depend upon it. They summon just enough trembling courage to tackle it only when destiny ultimately demands it: on race day. However, for a select few like Maxwell Smith, the incline is a familiar sparring partner, ridden with disciplined regularity. And for the grand architect of suffering, organizer Bhima Bowden, who miraculously ascended this very course 55 times in a single day last year, the mountain holds no secrets, no surprises. For such intimately acquainted veterans, the pressure was on to have no pacing issues, no regrets and no excuses.

But even those intimately bound to the mountain's tarmac must be wary of treacherous machinery. Powerhouse Jose Saraiva, who proudly claims Blaze as his own daily commute, had plotted a masterclass of surging power for his ascent. Alas, a mechanical trap lay in wait. Having tragically left his Di2 gears in synchro mode, his weapon delivered a rogue front-shift within the deepest, steepest jaws of the climb. Banished instantly to the small ring and stripped of vital momentum, he countered the heavy drop in wattage with a blind 500-Watt surge of pure panic to salvage the peak. Despite his severed speed, an incredible physiological breakthrough still occurred; so awakened were his recovering legs that he boldly continued his campaign homeward in the twilight, fiercely attacking Smith Lane (round 6) as he forever grinds his path to ultimate W/kg glory!

Strangely, true salvation tonight was found in the sheer abandonment of control. Arriving from a hectic fortnight of relaxed lifestyle indulgence, a panicked Alex Taylor waged a maddening dash through traffic merely to breach the starting line in time. Divested of focus by the desperate pinning of his number, his chaotic rush actually banished the sinister mind games the mountain so cruelly plays on waiting victims. Furthermore, a suddenly malfunctioning power meter silenced his digital prophecies entirely, commanding that he simply ascend by the power of 'the force' as he calls it. Riding completely blind on pure, primal instinct, Alex soared through the screaming crowd, obliterating his own greatest fears to utterly crush the final brutal ramp. Gaining an astounding 41 second PB over his past self, he crossed the peak totally "Over the moon with that!"

This relentless defiance echoed throughout the valley just like the many cowbells. Taking to the battlefield was an unstoppable, conquering host of 7 warriors from the Manchester Triathlon Club. Flanked by a roaring battalion of friends and family aligning the mountain path, they laid absolute claim to a summit that had historically served as the brutal proving ground of their own past championships. Alongside them, Peter O'Hare of Station South CC took to the slopes demanding vengeance. In a previous attempt on this exact venue, his earth-shattering power output had physically snapped his frame cleanly in half! Achieving a 18 second PB, the gods smiled upon him this evening, preserving his new bike whole and granting him absolute completion of the effort.

In a staggering show of royalty, the mountain's high banks hosted a majestic vigil. Due to last-minute strategic withdrawals from fierce competitors like two-time guest champion Alice Larkin, the active battlespace shifted, transforming the roadside into a pantheon of former queens. Alice joined forces with previous winner Alexandra Kendall-Smith and Cat & Fiddle champion Jenny Holl, providing an inspiring royal gallery to witness the ascents. Yet, the tarmac itself was not devoid of monarchs. Refusing to yield the battleground, our towering two-time club champion, Alison Dockney, took up her mantle. Ascending beneath the regal gaze of her peers, Alison delivered a fiercely proud and blistering final sprint to the very end. Empowered by the presence of such champions, the incredibly brave Kathleen O'Donnell stepped into the fires to launch her first-ever, truly glorious attempt, defying the mountain's fearsome reputation on the very evening of her birthday!

Securing a spectacular 3rd place among the women was another breakthrough rider from late last year, Tammy Lewis Jones. She conquered the grade despite a slight tactical misstep. Intoxicated by the perfect evening, the blazing sun, and a wonderfully agile bike, she accidentally unleashed higher wattage and faster speeds during her exhilarating warm-up than in the race itself! Though her legs were depleted before the clock even ticked, Tammy crested the summit with a triumphant smile, happily armed with a hard-earned lesson for future campaigns.

When the winds settled and the dust finally cleared, gaps at the top became more and more shocking. Overturning the heavy misfortunes of his last encounter to turn the tables on his esteemed rival Harper, Jack Morris snatched back absolute glory. Completing the climb in 5:52.684, the Open category victory was his by a heart-stopping 3.761-second sliver. Jack's teammate Edward Stubbs did 6:13, the third fastest junior time ever, behind Harper's last two results. 3rd place overall and only 20 seconds back is his closest result so far, yet must feel like an eternity away from that top step. Jack and Edward both treat their subdued indoor/virtual cycling with utmost seriousness, choosing to emerge from shadowed hibernation solely for these glorious uphill tests. Unseen forces are surely forged behind those closed doors...?

Yet, perhaps the greatest tactical crusade belonged to the women's supreme conqueror: Fiona Blagg. With a 56 second PB, her legendary path to claiming the Women's Crown at 7:53.436 relied not just upon her own colossal strength, but the lungs of a sacrificial teammate! Bound to a single, shared bicycle, her partner Nathan was hurled up the ascent on a desperate mission. Carving out an unbelievable 8th place overall, he crested the mountain merely to wildly descend straight back to the base to surrender the race machine to her, its brake pads still smoking upon its second approach to the start line. Rising fiercely upon their solitary steed, Fiona claimed the summit as hers entirely, drawing the ultimate, poetic close upon a beautiful evening of speed.

Full results: https://hillclimbproject.co.uk/race/?c=mNF7QHDCTk
Photos/videos: https://hillclimbproject.co.uk/shots/2026-05-22