There's no doubt about it, I've been kicking the backside out of it this month and there's no end in sight yet. So far we've had a 300Km Audax, a 200Km Audax, my cheeky little 500 mile Easter Adventure, the 72 mile Brenda Parker Way Run, and this weekend I've managed another 200Km Audax and a Marathon, more of which later.
I'm not sure if I'm getting any fitter, or just more tired as the month has gone on, but either way I've been having a lot of fun, and long may that continue. It does mean though that I'm a bit behind on the blog front. You might have noticed that the normal weekly updates are running a week behind, I'm sure that eventually I'll have a quiet weekend (or a few days at work) and I'll get caught back up, but in the mean time, please bear with me. After all, without the weekend adventures there's not much worth talking about, unless you want to know what I've been watching on TV (not much if you are interested, in fact if it wasn't for “The Emma” I'd probably just get rid of the TV!) So, following the trend of busy weekends and as I mentioned above, this has been another fun filled one, with the 200Km “A Tribute to Alan Turing Audax” on Saturday, followed by the LDWA's Pewsey Downs Around Marathon on Sunday morning. An early escape from work on Friday afternoon gave me the chance to clean and oil my bike, load the van up for the weekend and water the greenhouse, before paying the price of forgetting our wedding anniversary last week, by treating “The Emma” to a slap up meal (Fish and Chips (who said she's a cheap date)) and then immediately afterwards legging it up to Reading ready for an early start Saturday. Although I must admit, that when I said I forgot our anniversary, what I really mean, is “I had absolutely no idea”, which I'm claiming is different to forgetting. To forget surely you've got to know about it in the first place, or that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it!
Indiscretions repaid, Saturday dawned dry, but with a strong, cold, North Easterly wind blowing. Not ideal cycling conditions, when a large part of the days ride was going to be across flat, open ground, where the wind would be most unwelcome and blowing straight in our faces. Oh well, at least it's not raining.
Well wrapped up against the Icy chill, I was away by 07:20, heading North from Reading, along familiar roads, working steadily uphill towards Watlington. With the uphill gradient keeping the legs working hard and my heart rate up, which in turn helped keep the chilly morning air at bay, it was a beautiful morning to be out. Low sun shining weekly at this early hour, light dusting of frost in some of the more sheltered dips, roadside trees standing proud with their first bright green leaves of spring and plenty of wildlife, including the now resurgent Red Kites soaring majestically, to catch your attention. Steady progress through the morning saw the miles quickly ticked off, Lewkner, Thame, Edgcott came and went, until Buckingham where a turn to the East bought the full force of the wind to bare! Now, I've said before that I find it a struggle traveling into wind, at the end of the day I'm just not strong enough to push endlessly on against that invisible force, and today was no exception. There's not a lot of choice though and it's going to be a long leg into that wind. Thornborough, Bletchly Park (Home to the Enigma code breakers and the namesake of today's ride ride), through Milton Keynes and onward, until eventually the climb up to Ampthill signals lunchtime, a welcome break and a change of direction.
The mornings efforts had taken their toll though, and as I sat on the floor eating yet more supermarket sandwiches with a fellow rider, it was with a sense of relief that, that leg was now behind us. A sense of relief that was short lived, when I remembered that the afternoon would see us traverse the Chiltern Hills with their leg sapping climbs, en route back to Reading.
Lunch dispatched and legs stretched off, giving them a new lease of life, I was soon back on the road making the most of the remaining few flat miles with the wind now on my back, before the afternoons work began in earnest. From Dunstable it gets lumpy, with a seemingly never ending cycle of climb, followed immediately by descend. Sometimes steeply, sometimes on the verge of what's actually climbable, sometimes gradual and fast, but never flat, still always better than slogging into the wind in my opinion! Slowly though, as the afternoon passes, the miles to go reduce. One more climb, pause at the top to take in the far reaching views, before descending again, steeply this time to pass through a village in the valley floor, and then out the other side to climb again, slowly regaining the height previously lost, and repeat, until the final lung busting climb between Henley and Reading signifies the end of another day. I just need to grab a receipt to prove my finish time from a local shop and I'll be done for the day. Now what to buy to get that much needed receipt? An Ice Cream sat out of the wind, in the late afternoon sun, that'll do nicely, a fitting reward for a hard day out on a beautiful route, along some great roads, passing through a multitude of pretty villages and scenic hilltops. Now what's not to like about that?
From Reading, a quick blast down the M4 saw me in Pewsey, Saturday night, ready for another early start on Sunday morning. I've probably said it before, but there's no doubt that without the van, none of this would be possible.
The freedom to travel, adventure, and explore, is without doubt it's biggest advantage. And whilst it wasn't a cheap project, it proves it's worth every weekend and I couldn't imagine being without it now. (Mind you, replacing it would be even more expensive with the price of vans and materials having sky-rocketed recently). Any way, I digress as usual. Back to the fun and the whole reason for being in Pewsey. The Pewsey Downs Around. An off road trail walk / run, organised and managed by our friends at the LDWA with a variety of distances to suit all abilities. 10, 17, 26 and 33 miles, of which, in an unusual bout of sensibleness, I'd elected to run the 26 mile (Marathon) distance as part of my ongoing Marathon a Month Madness (I bet you thought that I'd forgotten about that stupidity didn't you!). With the early morning sun shining brightly, but that cold North Easterly wind still blowing strongly, it looked like we were in for a repeat of yesterdays weather. Although the wind still makes things hard on the running front, it never seems as soul destroying as it does on the bike.
With a staggered start and enforced control checkpoint times I started towards the back of the field, knowing full well that as a runner I'd be too early at the first checkpoint if I started to early and would end up stood around waiting for the opening time (control times are aimed at the walkers, after all this is a LDWA event). Which is never a good situation as you soon get cold and your legs stiffen up making getting going again hard work.
Starting at the back's never a bad thing though, as you get to say hello to all the walkers and slower runners as you pass, and to me it's nice to see other people out and about, even if it is only a fleeting hello, goodbye as you go past. What a fabulous route though, within a few meters of the start we were off road and onto the footpath network and that's how it remained for 99% of the day. A steep climb within the first couple of miles took us high into the hills surrounding Pewsey, providing far reaching, spectacular views of the surrounding countryside, all of which was beautifully bathed in the morning sun, and although that cold wind continued to do it's best to make the going hard at times, and keep the temperature down, it did little to dampen my spirits on such a glorious morning.
Surprisingly, considering yesterdays efforts, my legs felt pretty good too, and with plenty to see to keep my mind occupied the miles flew by. In fact before I'd even had time to think about getting tired I was approaching the halfway point and the well organised and fully stocked checkpoint at Avebury (home to some impressive stone age monuments and burial sites).
No time for sight seeing today though, there's still a fair few miles to go. From Avebury it's a long old climb to regain the height we lost earlier and get back over those hills, which provided such a dramatic vantage point at the start. The climb seems to go on for forever, but with the sun shining, the skylarks singing in the fields alongside the route and the bulk of the hills shielding us from the wind, it's certainly not a chore today.
Eventually though I reach the top and start dropping off the other side again. Another checkpoint provides the opportunity to grab a bit of fruit cake and chat to the marshal, who magnanimously admits that although the cake is home made, it's not their handy-work. Whoever made it, it hits the spot and sets me up nicely for the last few miles, which takes in a section of the Kennet and Avon Canal tow path.
Hill tops with expansive views, lung busting climbs, quiet secluded valleys, fields of rape in full bloom, skylarks singing, prehistoric monuments and ruins, canal tow path, this routes certainly got the whole lot and despite, by this stage, feeling like my legs want to give up, I almost wish it would never end. But end it does and I've got to be happy with a time of 4:28 for the 27 miles, especially when you consider the my legs have been through a right old workout over the last few weeks (and yesterday) and I wasn't exactly pushing, spending plenty of time stopped, both, stuffing my face full of delicious cake, and chatting to the lovely volunteers who spend so much of their time making these adventures possible.
There we go then, proof that you can ride a hard 200Km Audax one day and run a hilly trail marathon the next. Maybe not an ideal situation but certainly possible and in a respectable time too.
Right, onwards and upwards, I suppose I'd better get my thinking hat back on and dream up something even more stupid than this weekends adventure to challenge myself on!
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I can't believe that it's Easter already, it doesn't seem 2 minutes ago that we were sitting down to Christmas dinner and now it's time to smash open the Easter eggs again, or it would be if I hadn't already eaten them all (that will teach “The Emma” for being so organised and getting chocolate, before the big day!).
Easter always seems to be one of the turning points in the year though, the days are getting longer, sometimes the weather is starting to improve, and the worlds starting to turn green again after the long brown days of winter. It also means, that if the weather's getting better, I can start thinking about turning my attentions to longer and more elaborate adventures, and with the forecast looking good for the weekend, that's exactly what I've done this year. Although if I'm honest, after last weeks running effort I'm not sure that my legs are going to thank me for putting them through yet more stupidity. So, what was the plan for the extra long weekend then, I hear you ask (and if your not asking then you should be). Well, my legs certainly aren't up to much running, even after a couple of days off, they're still a touch on the tender side. So the bike it's going to have to be, and with 4 days off on the trot, that's an opportunity to get some real miles in. A quick look at the map showed that Oswestry just happens to be nearly 200 miles away from home, which isn't a bad distance for a weekends riding. Plus the route there and back will take me through the Cotswolds, Worcester, Shrewsbury and numerous other picturesque parts of the country, so that seemed like a reasonable destination. 400 miles in 3 days, shouldn't be to onerous an endeavour though, so to make things a little more interesting my mind managed to convince me that by throwing in a bit of a detour round home, maybe a trip down to the New Forest and back, I could probably push the mileage up towards the 600 mile mark and make things a bit more challenging, whilst giving myself a bale out option if things weren't going to plan. “Challenge accepted” said my poor legs, once my brain had come up with this stupid idea “If you've got the mental capacity to cover 600 miles in 3 days, then we'll put in the effort”. At which point my brain decided to throw in the idea of camping out too!
Oh well, "in for a penny in for a pound" as they say, and to that end I found myself running round like an idiot on Wednesday night, rounding up camping equipment from the darkest recess of the loft, garage, and all the other places that it seems to migrate too, ready for a departure straight from work on Thursday afternoon.
The commute in to work on Thursday morning gave me the chance to identify all the annoying rattles and remember all the bits of kit that I'd forgotten, plus reminded me just how heavy all this lightweight camping kit really is (more of which later). One full and exciting day at work later, and as the clock struck 15:30 I was out the door like a scalded cat, on the bike and away. Heading North(ish), as fast as my little legs could carry me, getting as far away as I could, before someone missed me and said “Oi, come back we don't finish until 17:00"! The roads up to Newbury were still surprisingly busy with commuters heading for home, but it wasn't long until I was out in the “sticks” proper, heading for Lambourn, before turning onto the first long climb of the weekend to cross The Ridgeway and head towards Faringdon and the start of the Cotswolds. A massive queue for the "chippy" in Faringdon, which had originally been my destination for tea, called for a quick change of plan and a slight reroute. Moreton-in-Marsh for a late tea instead then, and with the sun slowly sinking to my side I pushed on, arriving in Moreton-in-Marsh just as it started to get dark and just in time to grab a portion of chips for my tea.
Chips, sat by the river, with 70 Odd miles done, does it get any better than that? I'm not sure it does. But just to make sure, I had plans to get a few more miles in before bed time, and took the opportunity to dig out my head torch, Hi Viz top and an extra layer, before heading back out into the dark.
With a full moon, clear skies and a million stars showing the way, I pressed on into the night, making steady progress as the road climbed endlessly towards Snowshill and then plummeted from the Cotswolds Plateau onto flatter ground, as Oxfordshire becomes Worcestershire. A couple of hours later, with the time approaching Midnight and 101 miles covered since leaving work, I stumbled upon a nice little bivvy spot for the night and decided to call it a day. Hammock up, brew on, stretch off, biscuits and brew for supper and then turn in for the night, alarm set for 04:30 with a view to being on the road again at first light.
Feeling surprisingly refreshed after my short nights sleep, I was packed up, breakfasted and on the road again just as the sun came up, and what a treat that was. Cold, clear, beautiful, with the sun coming up on my right and the night shrinking away on my left, it was certainly worth getting up early for, and I ended up stopping a couple of times just to watch the day start to unfold itself from the nights dark embrace.
I can't spend too much time standing around though, there's big miles to cover today. Ideally I want to be back at almost the same point, having been to Oswestry and back, before bedtime! A few flat, fast miles saw me in Worcester just before 06:00 and having traversed the still sleeping city I grabbed some supplies, before pushing on, expecting more of the same.
Oh, how wrong can you be? As soon as I moved out of the confines of the city, the road went uphill, then straight back down again, then back up, and, well, I'm sure you get the idea. Gone was any pretence of an easy ride through Worcestershire, and very quickly my average pace started to drop off.
A couple of hours of slog later and I stopped for a brew and some porridge. Despite the fabulous views all around me and the joy of being out on the road, as I sat waiting for the water to boil I couldn't help but feel a bit dispirited. Progress was slower than anticipated and that's not good for morale, there's not much choice though but to push on! As the morning wore on, the day warmed up, requiring the removal of many layers of clothing, and the miles ticked slowly down. Past pretty villages with their obligatory war memorials and village halls, fields of rape in full bloom, cows freshly released from the confines of their winter barns watching intently as I passed, rabbits, pheasants and hares frolicking in the verges and fields, and the multitude of small birds all busily nest building in the hedgerows all around me, all providing distraction from the task in hand. Eventually though, after what seemed like an eternity of peddling, I arrived in Shrewsbury and climbed happily from the bike to grab some lunch. Somewhat behind where I'd hoped to be time wise, I didn't hang around and was soon back at it, heading out again on the last leg to my destination, just 20'ish miles away according to the GPS. Luckily the endless roller coaster of hills, calmed itself somewhat for this final leg and I made good time across those last few miles, arriving in Oswestry just before 14:00.
Destination achieved, turn around and head back the way I'd come then, not much to see here and no point in hanging around, destination Basingstoke. In fact by 15:30 I was back at Shrewsbury, sat in the same spot, stuffing yet more supermarket sandwiches into my face, in an effort to keep the calories coming in and the energy levels up, but at the same time starting to consider my options.
The hills and the extra weight of the camping kit were starting to take their toll, and whilst I was still moving reasonably well, the chances of getting back to the same overnight spot were starting to look unlikely. By this time I'd covered about 110 miles for the day, and my original overnight spot would need a total of 180, which seemed like a big ask. Only one way to find out though and that's push on. Another 10 or so miles later, I ground to a halt going up hill, and finding a quiet spot, dismounted and sat down for a few minutes. The mental game was getting to me and I needed to stop for a while and re-focus. Sitting in my quiet little hideaway I munched my way through a couple of Cookies, then a few Chocolate buttons, then a few more, then half the packet, and had a bit of a think. Maybe aiming for 150 miles for the day would be more achievable, take a bit of the pressure off and some of the endless slog away and allow me to enjoy myself a bit more?
Refreshed and reinvigorated I pushed on again, the sugar rush seemed to have done the trick and I was feeling better, the miles slowly started ticking down and I was starting to enjoy myself again. In fact I soon found myself back in Ludlow where the "chippy" once again beckoned for tea (it's living life to the full this lark, endless supermarket sandwiches and chips for tea twice in a row, healthy living at its best).
Hunger sated, water bottles replenished and ready for a few hours in the dark I pushed on again, aiming for that 150 mile mark and see how I felt. By 21:30 the magical 150 miles appeared and to be honest I'd had enough. As if to reinforce the fact that I should stop for the night, a great little "bivvy" spot hove into view. Well off the road, and high up, overlooking a bend in a river, with a great view across open fields to the other side, all of which was bathed in the magnificent light of a full moon. Decision made then, I'm stopping here for the night, hammock up, brew on and 20 minutes later I was swaying gently in the breeze, supping my brew, admiring the view and nibbling on a bit of chocolate, it doesn't get much better than that I can tell you.
I must have been tired, because I don't think I moved between going to bed and first light, despite the temperature dropping markedly overnight. In fact, whilst it was clear, cold, and still when I got up, by the time I got on the road an hour later the world had been shrouded in a low laying damp mist.
Fully refreshed after my long sleep, the misty morning did little to deter my spirits and I felt in fine fettle as I pushed off towards Worcester, 30 miles distant, but with the promise of a second breakfast when I got there! In fact, by the time I got to Worcester a couple of hours later the sun had worked it's magic and burned off the mist , leaving a glorious blue sky and rapidly warming morning. A brew and bacon Butty sat in the sun, worked further wonders for my morale, and it was with soaring spirits that I set off once again, planning to be back in Moreton-in-Marsh for lunch.
Plodding on through the morning with the sun and my shadow for company on quiet roads was a real treat, and whilst I wasn't making particularly quick progress, it was steady. Steady enough in fact that as predicted by lunchtime I was crawling through Moreton-in-Marsh, which was totally gridlocked with tourists and visitors, all of whom seemed to looking for that elusive parking space as close to the centre of town as possible.
Not much point in stopping amidst the crowds, so I grabbed a resupply and headed back out. Stopping a while later in a handy field gate in the middle of nowhere, where I took my shoes off, spread my sleeping bag out to air and generally enjoyed a leisurely lunch sat in the sun! Nice as it was to take the weight off my feet (or should that be backside), it wasn't going to get me anywhere fast and eventually the time came to push on. Next stop Faringdon, followed by Newbury, where I was going to have to come to a decision on my next move.
Mulling it over as the afternoon went on, I had 2 choices. I could either carry on from Newbury as per the original plan, stay out again tonight and push on in the morning with all the camping kit. Or, as I'd be passing within 10 miles of home, divert into home, have a night in bed, something proper to eat and a shower, and push on again early in the morning, but without the extra weight of the camping kit.
By the time I got to Newbury, after an unpleasant run into Faringdon against a headwind, my mind was made up. I'd covered 110 miles so far and it was another 20 to home, that would give me a 130 mile day, for a total of 375 miles since leaving work on Thursday afternoon. If I headed for home I could have an easy day tomorrow to round things up to 500 miles over the 3 days. Decision made then. Text “The Emma” to give her a heads up on my change of plan and set course for home. Home, kit sorted, shower, food, bed, in that order and set the alarm for 05:00, with an eye to being on the road again for 06:00. That should leave plenty of time to get in the remaining miles and still be home in time for tea. Result!
It's surprising the difference dumping the camping kit makes, and as I headed back out from home just after 06:00 on Sunday morning, it was with a new found spring in my step. “Easy miles for maximum smiles” springs to mind and as I made my way down towards the New Forest on a gorgeous morning, I certainly had a smile on my face.
The miles rolled easily on and by 10:00 I was picking up supplies in Fordingbridg, with over 50 miles already covered. Significantly quicker then anything I'd managed for the past couple of days. Next target Winchester, which was quickly dispatched and then a long, slow, slog as I headed towards Alresford against a head wind, on what may be the worst road surface in the world. Not to worry though, slog on for another couple of miles and I'll stop in a minute and have that pasta ready meal that I bought earlier, that will cheer me up. H'mmm, bugger. Having lugged a fork around with me, unused , for the last couple of days, now I need it I haven't got one! I'll tell you something right now. If your ever stuck without a fork, don't bother trying to eat Pasta out of a pot with your fingers. Not only is it incredibly slippery, but it makes a right mess too! I'd say lesson learned there, but it obviously wont be, so there's not much point!
Pushing on to Alresford with Pasta stained fingers and face, I cheered myself up with an ice cream instead and sat in the sun watching the world go by for a few minutes, before heading up the long, seemingly never ending climb back towards Basingstoke.
A quick check of the GPS showed 110 miles covered as I neared the turn off that would take me back home again, that's no good, I'd set off aiming for 125 and my pride won't let me slink home defeated. So I turn the other way, looking for extra miles and set off on a route that I know takes me round the top of Basingstoke and back in the other way, that should do nicely. Another hour or so passes and I'm nearing home again, 121 miles, almost but not quite enough. Right, loops around the streets near home it's going to be then. I pass the same person 4 or 5 times and get some strange looks, but eventually the magic 125 miles appears for the day, bringing the 3 day total to 500 miles. That will do nicely, I think!
500 miles in 3 days and 2 hours, or 800Km in 74 hours, for those of you that have gone metric. Not quite the mileage that I had planned on and hoped for, which was closer to 600, but a bloody good effort in my opinion. Even more so when you think that I'd run 71 miles, 3 days before I set off on this idiotic adventure!
I'm not going to pretend for one second that it was easy, in fact it was bloody hard at times. But, I had a great time none the less. I've been to a few places that I've never been to before, I've had 2 nights out under the stars, I've eaten enough supermarket sandwiches, cookies and other generally unhealthy rubbish to last a life time. And I've learned a few things along the way, both about myself and generally, things that may stand me in good stead in the future, or may never got used again, but either way it doesn't matter. But most importantly, when I'm even older and even less capable than I am today, I'll be able to think back to Easter 2022 and say “Oh' yes, that was the year I cycled 500 miles in 3 days” . “What a bloody Idiot, I could have just gone to the pub or watched TV”!
If you cast your mind back a few weeks, you may remember that I had the stupid idea of running the Brenda Parker Way (75 Miles of off road trails from Aldershot to Andover). If you do remember, you will also remember that my attempt didn't end particularly well, with my pulling out injured at the 40 mile mark and having to limp home, somewhat defeated.
Now, you may be wondering why I'm back to talking about something that's already happened, and likewise you may have noticed over the last few years that I don't really like failing. There's nothing wrong with the odd fail, in fact, if nothing else, it probably proves that I am operating on the limit of what I can actually achieve. If every idea went to plan and was easily achieved, then it's probably not hard enough. But, that doesn't mean that the odd failure doesn't bug me, or sit there in the back of my mind saying "why did you let that beat you" To that end, I've been looking for an opportunity to have another go. I know that it's achievable, it's just finding the right opportunity in my busy schedule to fit it in, and that opportunity, whilst not ideal, presented itself this week. Whilst I say it's not an ideal opportunity, what I really mean is, "to make this work requires an even more stupid idea than last time". In fact, the only way that I could actually fit it in was by having a day off on Monday and running overnight on Sunday, ready to be back in work on Tuesday. See, I told you it was a stupid idea. However, before I could even consider Brenda Parker and her Way, there was the small matter of Saturdays Audax fun to take care of. That's Audax fun in the shape of the Kennet Valley Run, 200Km of fast, flat, country roads, starting just outside Reading, before an out and back ride down through the picturesque Kennet Valley towards Westbury and back. Possibly not the best idea the day before attempting a 75 mile run, but then again, I told you this was a stupid idea didn't I.
With a sensible 07:00 start time and the start being just up the road, I had an unusual Friday night at home, (that's unusual as in, I was at home on a Friday, and not a strange Friday night) before a leisurely drive up on Saturday morning. I did consider riding to the start and back, but maybe that's just one step too far!
Whilst the sky showed the promise of a beautiful day to come, it was still cold and frosty as we gathered at the start, fingers already numb despite being wrapped in multiple layers, hat's, gloves, long leggings and winter jackets still very much in evidence and definitely the order of the day, as we stood, waiting patiently for the clock to tick down to 7 and the nice man to say "Off you go then". And without further ado, the clock did it's thing and we were off, rising sun on our backs, frost covering the fields all around, icy puddles littering the roadside, but most importantly, the promise of a great day ahead. Now, as I mentioned above it's a fast ride this, the routes easy to follow, and considering the distance to be covered, remarkably flat, so it was no surprise when the front group took off like scalded cat's, heading rapidly into the distance leaving us mere mortals in their wake! Quickly settling into a pace that I was happy with (I wasn't exactly hanging around myself), the familiar landmarks and place names passed by in a blur of peddle strokes. Mortimer, Aldermaston, Burghclere, Kintbury, all familiar from hundreds of day rides from home (and previous editions of this ride) quickly came and went, and I was at the first checkpoint in Hungerford long before most sensible people were even out of bed, . A quick ATM receipt as proof of passage and onwards, heading west along yet more familiar roads. Flat, fast, progress alongside the Kennet and Avon Canal to pass through the Bedwyns' and beside the Crofton Beam Engines, silent now that their mighty power is no longer required to pump water up for the canal, replaced long ago by modern electric power, but still preserved and operated by a group of volunteers, helping keep our industrial heritage alive. Through Pewsey, where I often turn Left on a summers evening to Bivvy high above on Salisbury Plain, and onward towards Urchfont, only mentioned here because it sounds funny and often seems to appear on direction signs despite it's small size. Things get a little more lumpy after Eastcot, but not enough to noticeably slow proceedings and with legs still feeling strong I push though the lumps and bumps, arriving at the half way point only slightly behind the fast riders and well ahead of the main bunch. Leaving plenty of time for a brew and hand sized lump of bread pudding in the café, before turning to retrace my steps on the run back to Hungerford. Steps retraced, I'm back in Hungerford by early afternoon, after which the route diverts from the morning track, to take us up into the hills around Welford and Bradfield, where Info Controls ensure no one misses the climbs. The climbing, coupled with the afternoon sun, does a good job of warming things up and despite a cold easterly wind, it's soon time to start shedding a few layers. In fact, by the time I start descending for the final time to pick up the flatter roads on the South side of the A4, my hands are decidedly uncomfortable in my winter gloves, and my jacket is wide open and flapping annoyingly in the breeze. I should stop really and take both off, but can't be bothered, it's only another 5 or 6 miles and I'll be finished. Sweaty handed, I finally roll into the start just under 9 hours after leaving, and having peeled off my sticky and damp gloves, proceed to get my Brevet card stamped, signifying my safe return. A hot brew, a slice of toast with Jam and a chat with the guy that I'd ridden the last few miles with, nicely wrapped up another great day out. Sunshine, cake, good company and fast roads, what a great way to spend Saturday and maybe the perfect warm up ahead of Sundays adventures?
So, weekend warm up done, I suppose we had better talk about the main event and taking what I'd learned from my recent failed attempt at The Brenda Parker Way, I had a new plan of attack.
Firstly, Kit stowage: My back had been battered and bruised by my running vest by mile 40 last time. And with my limited storage space having previously been crammed full of kit, leaving little space for any provisions, I'd acquired a slightly larger bag, giving a bit more space and with it the opportunity to take sufficient kit and provisions to see me through a long night section. Secondly, the route logistics: A slight reroute of the end section would allow me to park the van safely at Odiham, catch a late train to Andover and run the route in reverse. Having the Van at the end gave me somewhere to finish, with a change of clothes and a brew, instead of a deserted car park and not much else. By catching the last train and getting the night out of the way first, I'd be running into the dawn too, which I figured must be a bit of a morale booster! With "The Emma" away at a car show I spent Sunday pottering around at home, sorted out my kit, moved the Van to the finish and cycled back home again, pottered around on the allotment and generally did anything except what I should probably have been doing, which was rest. Oh well, what's the worst that will happen? I'm allergic to sitting around any way!
By the time "The Emma" got in I was hopping around, full of nervous energy, just waiting for the time to tick away and in the end I decided that there wasn't much to gain from just sitting at home waiting for the last train, so we headed to the station in time for the 20:30 train, which was handily delayed until 21:30. (I'm not sure if that was annoying or a blessing in disguise).
Either way, by 22:00, on a still, warm and clear night, I was at my start point. Jacket and over trousers off, head torch on, shoe laces tightened, route set, timers reset and off into the darkness. And dark it was too. With just the light of my head torch to show the way, navigation becomes a bit more difficult (and I'm not very good at it in the first place), each turn and junction requires a slow down or stop to ensure your going the right way, each fork in the trail a check of the map and each signpost a double check. That's no bad thing though. Not only did it ensure my pace stayed slow and steady, instead of racing away, but also ensured I took the time to actually check the map and stay on course. It still didn't stop me getting off course a couple of times through the night, but did ensure I realised pretty quickly before any real damage was done. In fact the only real navigation issue I had through the hours of darkness was a path which just disappeared into the middle of a ploughed field. I'm not sure if I missed a turn or the path had been ploughed up and not re-established, but a bit of heading directly across the field, solved the problem and didn't seem to add any distance. The other small issue with trail running in the dark is the way your headlight seems to rob you of depth perception and make the ground look flatter than it actually is, meaning an increased need to watch your footing and look out for roots, stumps, muddy puddles, ankle breaking ruts and divots and the plethora of other obstacles which are laying in wait for the unwary. That's not to say I wasn't having fun though. The dark was all encompassing, with just the glow from house windows, and the light pollution from Andover ,still visible in the distance, providing any clue to the people tucked up safely at home getting ready for bed, unaware of my silent passing, as they hid away behind closed curtains and locked doors, another day done for them, whilst my main event was just beginning.
By 23:00, with 13 miles in the bag, I descended into, and made my way slowly through, the now quiet and still St Mary Bourne. Pausing to get a biscuit from my bag, I found my first (and only major problem). Somehow, my water bottle which I had filled that afternoon was empty. Certain that I hadn't drunk 2 litres in the preceding miles, it took me a moment to work that one out. Think Perratt, think, where has the water gone?
And then it dawned on me, the wet patch by the back door when I picked up my bag on the way out. It wasn't the cat's doing at all, it was my precious water. My bag must have rested on top of the drinking tube allowing the water to siphon out onto the kitchen floor. Now what? No chance of any shops. The nearest accessible tap that I know of is at least 20 miles away, and I can't get that far without water. Wait a minute, there's a fast flowing stream in another 1/2 mile, lets go and have a look at that. Is it drinkable? I've no idea, but I guess I'm going to have to find out! By the light of my head torch the water looked cold, clear, and refreshing as it flowed its way South to join the river Test further down stream. I knew from passing this way during daylight, that it normally looked clean too. Oh well, in for a penny in for a pound. Balance precariously on a few stones to get away from the bank and dip my bottle in. The water that came out looked clean and clear and a little sip seemed to taste Ok. Sod it, lets fill my bottles, get re-hydrated and push on. The worst that going to happen is I'll be ill. But that's probably still better than no water at all. Now I'm not recommending it, but I'm still alive, so I guess it can't have been that bad for me, and it did get me out of a right muddle, but please don't go drinking out of random streams, its not a good idea.
Public safety announcement over, water replenished and back in the game, it was time to push on. The leg from St Mary Bourne to the A34 crossing is probably the most remote of the whole route and is mostly uphill! That's Ok though, my legs are still reasonably fresh, and as soon as it starts to get steep I take the opportunity to slow to a fast walk, saving my legs and energy for the runnable bits and taking the opportunity of the slower pace to eat and do the other little admin tasks that need doing whilst I can.
Eventually though I near the top of the climb, to be greeted with a icy head wind. Sweating from the effort of the climb, I'm instantly cold and have to stop to put on another layer, before cresting the hill and starting the long awaited downhill section. Just after 03:00 I get to the A34 and Marathon distance. 5:00 for the first 26 miles, is slightly ahead of the pace I was aiming for and I reward myself with a choccy bar whilst I decide if I'm going to divert up to the 24 hour services on the A34 or push on for Kingsclere. I spend the time replacing my head torch batteries whilst I think about it. It's an extra couple of miles to go to the services, I've still got water, I'm feeling good and Kingsclere is only another 10 miles along flatter terrain. Decision made, I push on. Making steady progress I'm in Kingsclere before 05:00. Unsurprisingly the streets are deserted and the shops still shut, as I make my way silently through town and pick the trail back up on the other side, next stop Tadley, another 10 miles away. This is the section where it all went wrong last time, and whilst I'm still feeling surprisingly good, considering that I've now been up all night, I'm aware that I've now got over 35 miles in my legs and I can feel my pace dropping off. Soon though I start to notice the sky getting a little brighter in front of me, and the bird song increasing, heralding the much awaited imminent dawn and the start of a new day.
As the sun comes up, so my mood lifts, and as the gloom of night is replaced by the light of day, along comes new things to look at and occupy my mind. Trees, Birds, Deer, houses and people starting a new day, all now visible on the trail side, replacing the blackness and the odd set of eye's caught looking back in my head torch beam, which had been my only company for the previous hours.
Tadley arrives at around 08:00, just as the early morning runners and dog walkers are starting their day. My pace has really dropped off now, and whilst I'm still slowly running some of the easier bits, with 45 miles done, the walking breaks are getting longer and longer. The miles are starting to tell as I head out of Tadley, bound for Bramley and the promise of a Cornish Pasty from the bakery. It's light though, the day has dawned clear and chilly, there's no wind to speak off, and despite being tired I'm still feeling good and moving forward. 09:00 and I'm at Bramley, with approximately 52 miles covered during the previous 11 hours, most of which was in darkness. My feet are feeling a bit tender and I grab some food from the bakery, a bottle of pop and some water, and for the first time since getting off the train last night, sit down for a few minutes whilst I stuff warm, greasy, pastry down my throat. Boy oh boy, that tastes good! Whilst I'm there I plug my watch in to charge, and text "The Emma" to let her know I'm still alive, before pushing on again. My text to "The Emma" gives a good insight into my pace at that point and I'll happily admit that from this point on there wasn't much running, but I was maintaining a good, fast walking pace. I predicted another 8 hours from Bramley to the end, and as we'll see later, that was pretty accurate, so I guess I had a pretty good idea of what I was still capable of and how I was feeling even by that point.
Moving on though, I was still chipping away at it, one foot in front of the other, always moving forward. The sun was shining brightly and the world was still a beautiful place, despite my feet feeling increasingly sore and a slowly strengthening cold East wind starting to pick up and doing it's best to ensure I kept my jacket on.
Setting myself shorter targets made things easier and took my mind of the distance still to cover. Another mile and I'll have a sweet. Reach the main road crossing and I'll stop for a few seconds. Reach the main road and keep going. "I thought we were stopping say my legs", "Fooled you comes the reply from my brain". Just keep moving, don't stop! The miles keep ticking along, and then just before Hartley Wintney, where I've been promising myself an ice cream, I'm met with the steps of doom. I'd forgotten about these from my "Recce runs". A long flight of uneven steps down and then the same back up straight away, to get under the M3. Not what my legs needed at all!
Some time after 13:30 I'm in Hartley Wintney and get that ice cream I've been promising myself for so long. Sat on a bench, in the sun, watching the world go by, it's hard to believe that last night I was in Andover and now I'm here, just a few short miles from the end. I'm pretty quickly reminded of those miles though, when I get up again and my feet scream in protest!
Hobble on, this is the last section of map and the last few miles left to cover. My feet feel sore, but I'm still moving and in good spirits. I know that no matter how much longer it may take, I'm going to make it and that's a real morale booster. Most of this final section is on road, and that's not doing my feet any favours, in fact I have to stop a couple of times just to take the weight off, further slowing my progress and extending the time I'm going to be out here. Eventually though, as the clock reaches 16:30, so I reach the van. Just under 19 and a half hours after setting off and with exactly 71 miles recorded on my GPS I've reached my destination, and that my friends calls for a brew!
Postscript
When I got back to the van on Monday afternoon, I really thought I was spent, I felt like everything I had to give had been given and that was me done for! But, you know what, by the time I'd had a brew, taken my shoes off and let my feet air for a bit and got some proper food on board, I felt a lot better and I could probably have gone on. Don't get me wrong, I didn't particularly want too, but I could have if I needed too. I felt pretty good on Tuesday too. Nowhere near as stiff or broken as I expected too. I had a couple of small blisters on my left foot, but that was about it. In fact, whilst I drove into work on Tuesday I was back on the bike Wednesday and felt Ok. But most importantly, I've learned a lot from this little adventure. Not only have I learned that I'm quite capable of going through the night with no sleep and keeping going the next day, but I'm still capable of making rational decisions with it. My little water issue early on proved that I'm capable of dealing with those problems as they arise and coming safely out the other side, and in the main, my kit decisions seemed sensible, correct and adequate for the distance and terrain that I was going to cover. I've also learned that taping the balls of my feet before I set off would probably have avoided the blister problem which I did encounter (I know this so I don't know why I didn't do it before I left). And I've learned that you can't overestimate how much of a morale booster a clean and dry pair of socks is. Stopping, taking off your shoes and changing your socks when your on your last legs is like getting a new pair of legs fitted. Magical. So I suppose that whilst this was my stupidest idea to date, it was also successful and did exactly what it was intended to do. It took me out of my comfort zone, made me push myself both physically and mentally beyond what should be possible and bought with it great reward and knowledge. I suppose I'd best put that new found knowledge to good use now though. "Next"!
What’s going on, last week I was out in shorts on the Start Of Summer Audax and by Thursday it's snowing again. What is quite interesting (well I think it is) is the fact that that's not unusual. Scrolling back through my photos, we had a light dusting of snow laying on the 12 April last year, and if I remember correctly, we had a similar situation in 2019. If nothing else it certainly keeps you on your toes, cold toes at that.
Anyhow, enough random rambelings, there's better things to be talking about than the weather. Mainly the 3 Down Audax. 300Km of cycling fun from Chalfont St Peter on the outskirts of London, down to Fordingbridge in the New Forest and back again, taking in some of the Highlights of the Chiltern Hills, Test Valley and the New Forest on the way. Now what's not to like about that?
With an early start scheduled for Saturday morning I took the van up Friday night and found a cosy little spot to spend the night close to the start location. The first signs of the day that lay ahead came when the alarm rudely woke me from my slumbers at early O'clock. Peering skywards through the skylight whilst I waited for the kettle to boil, I discovered my view obscured by a thick coating of frost which is unusual. Racking my brains I couldn't think of an occasion before when the skylight had been that heavily frosted in the morning. Best get an extra pair of gloves out!
Brewed, breakfasted and layered up in all the clothes I had with me, when I did finally venture out into the still dark morning, my initial fears were instantly confirmed. It was blinking freezing! A quick ride over to the start location to collect my Brevet card, a few minutes catching up with familiar faces and on the stroke of 06:15 we were off. First port of call, Pangbourne for breakfast, well second breakfast, but then you can never have enough breakfasts can you! On quiet roads, still devoid of traffic at this early hour, the miles ticked rapidly along. An hour in and reaching for my water bottle for some liquid refreshment I was in for a surprise. As my frozen fingers bought the bottle to my lips nothing came out? Closer inspection showed that the top of the bottle had frozen solid, with the outside and bottle cages covered in a good layer of ice where drips of water had frozen on the outer surfaces too. Well, that explained why my fingers hurt and my toes felt like icicles then! With regular finger shaking to keep the blood flowing through my fingers and working my legs hard, the temperature was just about bearable, but certainly not pleasant or tropical. Eventually though, as we pushed South, the sun started to come up and with its weak early spring rays, started slowly warming the frosty dawn air. Pangbourne soon arrived and after a bit of help from the nice man checking us in to get my Brevet card out of its plastic bag (despite my valiant efforts I just couldn't grip it with my frozen fingers) it was into the warm village hall, to be treated to a hot brew to wrap my chilly fingers round, and beans on toast to keep the hunger pangs at bay, all kindly laid on by the lovely people from Reading CTC cycling club. I didn't hang around at Pangbourne, just long enough to get slightly warmer, and was soon back on my way, heading for the the next checkpoint at Longstock. These are familiar roads, passing along some of my regular cycling routes from home and that familiarity allows time to relax and let your mind wander a bit without having to constantly check where you are and where your supposed to be going. Through pretty Hampshire villages, along quiet country roads, it wasn't long untill we picked up the picturesque river Test Valley for the final run into Longstock, where with 100km down there was a real treat awaiting us. Possibly the finest and largest serving of carrot cake that I’ve ever witnessed, washed down with yet another brew.
Mid-morning by now, I took the opportunity to shed my inner gloves and one of the two base layers that I was wearing, but despite the sun shining brightly in a clear blue sky, it was still bitterly cold in the wind. Fully fortified on carrot cake (if I’m honest it was a bit too much and I spent the next 30 minutes feeling a bit sick, not that that will ever teach me!) I pushed on South, quickly heading on to less familiar roads as I approached the New Forest.
Wild ponies, cattle roaming free, families of wild pigs wandering the verges in search of tasty morsels, wide open moorland and picturesque ancient forests, there’s a lot to like about the New Forest, and surprisingly, for small country roads, and Hampshire in general, the roads are remarkably smooth and pothole free, making cycling a real pleasure. By 13:00 I’d reached Fordingbridge and the halfway point. A quick sandwich stop, killing 2 birds with one stone in the form of lunch and a proof of passage receipt and I was soon on my way again. Heading North and making my way back to the start. The run back across the open sections of moorland was a bit off a slog, with that cold North wind blowing straight in my face. Get down low and push on though, it’s not going to be for long and I’ll soon be back in the shelter of the country lanes as I head towards Alresford for the next scheduled stop. Again, I’m soon back on familiar roads, and after a brief stop in Alresford to sort out kit and get some calories on board I’m soon heading back towards home. A brief pause as I crest the hill overlooking Basingstoke to grab a picture to send to “The Emma” with an “I can see you, stop sitting around” tag line, and onwards into the now late afternoon sun.
Winnersh, and the final checkpoint of the day, was a welcome stop when it finally arrived, and I joined a couple of others grabbing a sandwich and making ready for the final dusk/night section at the local supermarket. Batteries changed in my lights, head torch fitted to my helmet and those layers I removed earlier refitted, I’m back on my way as soon as I can. It’s too cold to stand around and getting colder by the minute as darkness descends.
An intentional close pass (I know it was intentional as the back seat passengers were looking back to see my reaction as they passed) and nearly getting caught out twice by cars overtaking and then instantly turning left across my path, put a bit of a downer on things as I headed through Maidenhead in the growing dark. I’ve put up with far worse though and a bit of poor driving from a few idiots wasn’t going to put a damper on my day. One last push through quieter roads and with fingers and toes fully chilled once again I was soon rolling back into the village hall at the start/finish location. Another warm welcome, hot brew and fantastic jacket potato with vegetarian chilli, nicely filled a gap as my fingers slowly thawed and tired legs finally relaxed. Just under 15 hours total time from start to finish, of which I’d guess nearly 14 hours was moving time, is a time for the distance that I’m more than happy with. But it’s not about the time or the distance (193 miles if your interested), it’s all about having fun, being outside, making the most of our great countryside, and seeing some things that I wouldn’t have seen by sitting at home. Eating cake, meeting new people, shared experiences with those others foolish enough to undertake these adventures, and most importantly making memories. And if that’s the criteria that I’m measuring things by (which it is) then Saturday was a resounding success! Bring on the next one.
I know that the last few weeks blogs have been a bit cycling centric, it’s just the way it works out I suppose and there’s plenty more to come. That’s not all I’ve been up too though. Seed sowing on the allotment is in full swing and I got a couple of rows of potatoes planted out on Sunday afternoon, along with some more Broad Beans and Parsnip seeds. I’ve also replaced the plastic sheeting on the cold frame which had gone brittle and opaque through UV degradation, and slapped on a couple of coats of wood preserver whilst I was at it.
The gardens are looking great too for the time of year, with Daffodils still in bloom and Polyanthus adding a welcome splash of colour. Things are certainly looking good in 2022 so far, although my outstanding job’s list seems to be growing by the minute, so at some point I’m going to have to have a weekend at home to catch up. It’s not happening any time soon though as there’s still plenty of exciting adventures to come |
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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