Well, Summer seems to be over again, or at least situation normal has resumed, with the temperature returning to something approaching normality. Without wishing to tempt fate, we still haven’t had any real rain of note for a long time, and everything is looking pretty dry and parched, including the allotment, which has resulted in lots of lugging watering cans around. Everything seems to have doubled in size in the last few weeks in the summer sun though, so it can’t be a bad thing.
We can’t really complain about the weather though, although I suspect that having been nice for the last couple of months, that’s all going to come to a crashing change in a couple of weeks when I’m off work! So, apart from the weather, what are we going to talk about this week then? Well, you’ll all be pleased to know that it was my birthday on Sunday, and we can’t let such a momentous occasion pass without fanfare can we. How to celebrate such an occasion as my 50th then? Party? Weekend away? Hibernate? Pub? Sit on the sofa eating biscuits and watching TV? No. I had a far stupider idea! When I was running home a couple of weeks ago, it dawned on me that I could do 50KM run in recognition of my 50th. Then I thought, that’s not too big a challenge, how about adding another 500Km on the bike onto it and make a weekend of it? And then I realised that if I did a 50K run, by adding in a run to work and back in the same week, I’d have 50 miles of running through the week, a stand-alone 50 Km run and the ubiquitous 500Km on the bike, giving me all the 50’s on my 50th. How’s that for a stupid idea? Stupid idea or not, the seed was firmly planted in my mind. The first minor hurdle to overcome was the two runs to work to get the necessary miles in for the running stint. Nothing to serious there, it’s something that I do every week, so it shouldn’t be a problem, and to be honest it wasn’t, except for one small detail. The only option was to run home Tuesday and back in on Wednesday morning, and if you cast your mind back a few days, Tuesday was officially the hottest day ever, and I just happen to finish work at 16:00, when the day was at it’s hottest. I’ll confess that sat at work, I very nearly changed my mind and discarded the whole stupid idea, but in for a penny, in for a pound, I finally plucked up the courage to get out there. Cramming as much extra water into my backpack as possible and switching my routes around to make as much use as possible from every bit of available shade, I took an easy plod home, and to be honest it wasn’t as bad as I’d been expecting. Yes, it was hot, yes it was a stupid idea, and yes it was hard work, but it wasn’t that bad, and it got me the first 10 miles for the planned 50. Back to work on Wednesday morning for the next 10 then. Even when I set off at 05:45 it wasn’t much cooler than it had been the day before, in fact it was probably worse, as the humidity had climbed considerably. But, again, by taking it easy and plodding it out at a steady pace, I had another 10 miles in the bag and a full 24 hours recovery time before the next stint. Which was lucky, because my legs didn’t seem to appreciate the effort and were rapidly starting to say, “what’s the point of all this”? Next up then, 50Km (31 miles), for which I’d stuck a cheeky days leave in for Thursday. With the temperature still pretty high and the forecast for another hot and humid day, an early start seemed sensible, and I dragged myself out of bed at an unreasonable hour for a day off, hobbled down the stairs on stiff and unwilling legs, and generally felt sorry for myself for a few minutes until I woke up properly and remembered that this is supposed to be fun! Making the most of the cooler morning air, I was leaving the house just as “The Emma” got in from her nightshift at 06:15, heading for the Basingstoke Canal. Now, I’ll have mentioned before that I’m not a massive fan of canal towpath running. It’s too flat, there’s nothing to look at except more path and canal, and the path tends to be hard packed, battering your feet after a while. For today’s purposes though, it was ideal, flat, fast, loads of shops along the way to keep the water topped up and provide tasty treats, and more importantly, it follows the main train line, so all I had to do was follow the path until I’d got the required mileage and then hop on the train back home again – Simples! And simples, it was. In fact, there’s not much to say that I haven’t said before. The miles ticked steadily along, the canal was as beautiful, picturesque, dull and boring as it always is, and despite the temperature being somewhat on the high side, by taking it slow and steady it was an uneventful run. Or as uneventful as 32 miles can be! So uneventful, that by 12:00 I’d covered the required mileage and was sat at the train station waiting for the train and by 13:00 was back in Basingstoke, where “The Emma” kindly picked me up from the station, saving me the walk home (well, she actually wanted a lift herself, so killed 2 birds with 1 stone and having picked me up, I in turn dropped her off (teamwork makes the dream work as we say)). Thursday afternoon and that’s a 50 km run plus 50 miles of running for the week knocked off (50Km = 32 miles plus 2x 10 Mile work commutes), leaving plenty of time to sort out my bike and kit and get an early night ready for the weekend’s adventures.
Unfortunately, I had a work commitment Friday morning, so I couldn’t extend my weekend. However, a lunchtime finish beckoned, and having loaded my bike Thursday night, the ride into work did wonders for freeing off my stiff, tired legs, (and those few hours of clock watching gave them ample time to stiffen up again), before I managed to escape for the weekend!
Out of work by 12:00 I was off, the plan being to head towards Exmouth, before turning back for home, which should equate to 500km (310 miles) if my calculations were correct. This wasn’t supposed to be a slog fest though, it was my birthday after all, and even before I set off, I was happy that if I wasn’t feeling it, I’d cut it short. To which end the route I’d planned crossed over itself a few times in a large figure of 8 and had plenty of options to just cut across and pick up the return route if required. I’d just see how I felt and go from there!
Familiar roads for the first couple of hours made for some easy riding, and the miles fairly flew by as I made my way steadily Eastwards. First to Winchester and then Salisbury where the first stop of the afternoon beckoned in the form of a water resupply and doughnut break. Hunger pangs diverted for a short while, I braved the Friday afternoon traffic to pick my way through the madness that is the Salisbury ring road and eventually popped safely out the other side, picking up where I left off with more pleasant rural roads as I continued Eastwards, chasing the afternoon sun.
Steadily progressing as tea time drew closer, the weather gods decided to play their trump card and after weeks of sweltering under a blazing sun, the first spots of rain landed on the road ahead, accompanied by that familiar smell of rain on hot tarmac that accompanies a summer shower. Spotting some overhanging trees I pulled over and huddled under their protective canopy, trying to stay out of the worst of the rain as the first few spots turned into a heavy summer downpour. Eventually the weight of rain overcame the tree canopy which formed my protective shelter, and as the downpour eased slightly, I decided that I'd better man up and get wet or I was likely to be stood there for a long while. Within 30 minutes the summer had returned and by the time I arrived in Gillingham, I'd pretty much dried out, which was lucky as I didn't have a waterproof coat with me, and I'd have been in for a miserable few hours if the rain hadn't stopped when it did (that will teach me. Or maybe not).
Leaving Gillingham just before 18:00, I had my sights set on Sherbourne as my final destination for the day. My plan being to get some tea there, resupply for the night, then find somewhere just the other side to put the hammock up and get some sleep.
And a reasonable plan it was too as I made good time arriving by 20:00, which left what should have been plenty of time to get something to eat and find a nice spot for the night before it got dark. Replenish the biscuit supply in preparation for a bedtime treat, top up the water bottles ready for a morning brew, and push on through the other side of Sherbourne, safe in the knowledge that I'd be tucked up in bed in 30 minutes. Or maybe not! Normally, once your off the beaten track, there's loads of little hideaways, perfectly sized and almost designed for popping up a hammock and whiling the night away. Today though, nothing, nadda, nichts, nowt, not a single suitable spot anywhere to be seen, and I'm not picky. Mile after mile of nothing, no more than a single tree at any one time, and that's not a lot of good for a hammock that's for sure. With darkness rapidly descending I was starting to get a bit desperate and was beginning to think that it was going to be a cold night on the floor wrapped in my tarp. 21:00 came and went, followed soon after by 21:30, when eventually, with 118 miles covered for the day, I spotted a footpath that looked promising. Dismounting I pushed the bike up the path for a few meters and there it was, not the best spot, but two trees just far enough apart to get the hammock up. That'll have to do, I was too tired to go on, and being fully dark by this point it was well past bedtime!
If there's one thing a long day in the saddle guarantees, it's a good nights sleep, and despite my less than salubrious location I slept well, only awakening as the sun penetrated the trees around me. Waking me as we did for a millennia before the advent of alarm clocks with it's warming rays and gentle dawn light.
Waking up with the dawn has a magical feel to it and as I got a brew on and then sat, swaying contentedly in my hammock, there was nowhere that I'd rather be. It's not all about enjoying myself though and today was going to be a big day, not only mileage wise but hilly too, and if I was going to stay on track then I needed to get going. To that end I was on the road just after 6 warming up stiff legs and admiring the scenery around me, bathed in the soft early morning light, on what showed promising signs of being another nice day. With the miles ticking happily along, I was just starting to think about stopping for a brew and second breakfast when fate intervened and I rounded a corner to come upon the rear end of a pack of hounds accompanied by a couple of horse riders out for their morning exercise, totally blocking the road. Slowing to avoid startling them, I was just considering my next move when low and behold what should appear but a perfectly placed bench, complete with stunning view over the surrounding countryside. Well that wasn't a hard decision to make, seat, view, blocked road, best stop and get the kettle on, timing doesn't get much better than that!
Refreshed and revitalised I pushed on, heading slowly towards the coast and as the miles built slowly the landscape changed. Flat, open, arable fields, slowly replaced by small, neat, fields of lush green grass, heralding a change in terrain as the flatlands gave way to the steep sided valleys that Devon is renowned for.
By late morning I was sweating my way up the incredibly steep climb out of Sidmouth, far to steep to ride I was reduced to walking and even that was nigh on impossible. A dozen paces forward, pushing hard on the handlebars to propel the weight of the bike up the incline, then pause to get my breath back and repeat multiple times, as I inched my way slowly skywards, a situation that would be repeated many times as the day progressed as I slowly traversed this beautiful part of the country. Eventually though, with the smell of the sea filling my nostrils and a strong sea breeze keeping the temperature down I crested the top and started the long fast descent towards the days destination. A few more miles under my wheels, and just before 13:00 Exmouth and the days destination hove into view.
Hmmmmmm, well I'm here, now what? Turn around and head back the other way that's what. Many of my adventures are more about the journey than the destination and today was no exception. I'd seen the sea, I'd got a picture of a sign that said Exmouth and there was plenty more to see on the journey back home.
The days plan had always been to try and get back to roughly where I'd started from in the morning, breaking the trip down in 3 roughly equal legs, and that meant getting back towards and hopefully past Yeovil before bed time. Onward then, standing looking at the sea or wondering what to do in Exmouth wasn't going to achieve my aims. The afternoon slowly passed with more of the same. Ride the flat bits, roll down the hills and slog up the steep sides, pushing when it became too steep. The days average moving speed of less than 11 MPH gives you some idea of the terrain that I was crossing as the day progressed. It's normally fairly easy to maintain an average of closer to 15MPH without too many problems, so 11's pretty slow! Those steep sided hills and valleys are incredibly pretty though, which more than makes up for the extra effort required, and the long steep climbs leave you with plenty of time to stop and stare as you try to get your breath back. Making what could easily become a depressing slog fest a voyage of discovery, with a new vista around every corner and a plethora of pretty villages dotted along the way to maintain your interest. Eventually though, around 19:00, with tired legs and weary muscles, I rolled into Yeovil, found a shop to get some tea and supplies for the night and contemplated my next move. Not that there was much to contemplate, push on and find somewhere to spend the night. Which, having knocked a few more miles off as day turned slowly to night I did. Finally stopping for the day with 124 hilly miles under my belt.
A slow start with an extra brew on Sunday morning soon found me pushing up one last hill to climb onto the plateau at King Alfred's Tower. Although to be honest, I've no idea if there is a tower or if there is what it looks like, as the top was shrouded in low cloud, on what was a humid, damp morning.
Last final killer climb over and done with and it's plain sailing from here, with flatter, faster, roads taking me first towards Warminster and the onward to skirt the edge of Salisbury plain and Stonehenge, before picking up the more familiar roads to take me home, where birthday cake and fish and chips for tea awaited my return. Just what a hungry, aging cyclists wants on his birthday! So that's it, mission accomplished, a 50 Km mid week run to give a weekly running total of 50 miles, plus a 500km weekend away on the bike, in what just happened to be 50 hours. There's quite a few 50's there in celebration of my 50th. Oh and as a postscript, I've just noticed that the midweek 50Km run was my 50th Marathon! Strange how things work out, isn't it.
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Paul PerrattOld enough to know better, young enough to still feel invincible, stupid enough to keep on trying the same thing again and again. Cyclist, Gardener, Runner, Hiker, Cook, Woodworker, Engineer, Jack of all trades and master of none, Anti social old git and all round miserable bugger. Archives
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