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September means one thing for me: the annual pilgrimage to North Yorkshire for the very toughest cyclo-cross race in the World, the Three Peaks.

All other rides pale into insignificance against this monstrous approximation of a ‘cross race. Much as I love the fast and furious hour-long version that takes up the rest of the winter season, it does not compare. Road races, crits, even sportives: all are fine and dandy for the summer months, but they are a means to an end – all preparation for the big day.

For anyone unfamiliar with the event, some bright spark back in the day had the bright idea of stringing together the three biggest hills in Yorkshire – a route already familiar to walkers and fell runners – and throwing a bike into the mix. A 14-year-old schoolboy by the name of Kevin Watson hauled his standard-issue road bike to the summits of Whernside (2,419ft.), Ingleborough (2,373ft.), and Penyghent (2,273ft.) in 1959 and the Three Peaks cyclo-cross was born.

And riders have been coming back ever since, some more than others. Organiser John Rawnsley has completed a mighty 45 of the 47 runnings of the race, as has Neil Orrell. Mosquito’s new recruit Simon Scarsbrook was heading for Yorkshire for his thirteenth attempt, while I was mere beginner on four.

One of the bonuses of working for Cycling Weekly is getting to talk to riders, so under the pretext of writing an article, I grilled seven-time winner Rob Jebb and 1991 victor Nick Craig for every little tip going: where to go hard; where to ease off; when to eat; when to run; when to walk; when to throw the bike away and collapse in a heap due to cramp and sheer bloody exhaustion.

Team Mosquito set reasonable but perfectly attainable targets: top-20 in the vets’ category and under four hours. It was a perfect day for it, with little wind and a covering of cloud with the occasional glimpse of sun, so we set off in a 450-strong bunch feeling nervous yet optimistic.

Suffice to say the handy hints from Jebb and Craig came in very useful. Not going flat out on the road following the opening climb of Ingleborough meant having more energy to attack Whernside. The little diversions from the beaten path taken by the top riders shaved seconds off here and there. And Craig’s phenomenal descending inspired my brake-free hurtle down Pen-y-Ghent and thrash to the finish in Horton.

It didn’t feel especially quick, yet I had taken 12 minutes off my best time, shaved into the top-20 vets, landed some prize money, and got well under the four hour target. Simon came in a few minutes later and, as tradition dictates, I got the beers in.

And now we have another 12 months to work out our next assault on the ‘Peaks. Much like this year’s winner, Nick Craig, it will fly by…