There’s no doubt about it, the Summer’s definitely over, and that’s for certain. I know it’s over because this weekend was the Petworth End Of Summer 200Km Audax. Oh, and the clocks went back. But that’s a minor point when there’s bike riding to tell the passing of the seasons by. I’ll get on to the bike riding fun in a minute, but first there’s a couple of other things to catch up on. The first of which is the stupid van, which occupied most of my time on Friday afternoon. It’s been well behaved recently, but coming home along the M3 last weekend the God of nuts and bolts decided that the bolts retaining the Number 1 fuel injector should just undo themselves for no apparent reason! There I was happily pootling along until the normally rattily engine sound was replaced by the chuff chuff chuff of escaping cylinder pressure. I Chuffed along to the services where a nice man from the AA produced the only tool I didn’t seem to have with me (an Allen key) and tightened it back up again to get me home. The only problem with that is there’s a little copper washer which seals the injector to the head, and having been loose once it was never going to seal properly again, so now needed replacing. Luckily there was a break in the weather Friday afternoon, so I spent a couple of hours stripping it down, cleaning everything up and replacing the little washer, so hopefully we're back in the game again. The strangest thing is that it’s been fine for 10,000 miles since I replaced the engine, and the others are all still tight. So why that one decided to come undone I’ve no idea. Hopefully it's not a portent of some catastrophic failure that’s just around the corner, because I really don’t want to be stripping that down again, and with push bikes trying to bankrupt me I can’t afford to either. While we’re talking about things breaking, my commuting bike needs a new front wheel. Well, I say it needs a new front wheel, it’s actually got a dynamo hub fitted (as have all my bikes) which is brilliant. But the wheel bearings aren’t adjustable or replaceable (we’ll see about that) and the bearings are on their way out. Strangely I’m not having much luck with bearings at the moment, this is the 3rd bearing failure in a short time, none of which have been replaceable (Washing machine drum at the start of the month, bottom bracket a couple of weeks ago, and now front wheel hub). I suppose I shouldn’t moan too much as it has done over 4000 miles through 2 winters in all conditions, so it’s probably done well to last this long. But like the washing machine and bottom bracket, a bit more thought in the design process could easily have made these replaceable items, prolonging their life and reducing waste. I suppose when you're in the business of selling new items, that’s not a shrewd business move though is it. Either way, to even get the hub apart requires all the spokes removing, and while I’m more than happy to do that, it’s not a ten minute job, and I haven't got a spare Dynamo wheel that will fit that bike to swap it with to get to work next week. I priced up the cost of the parts to build up a new wheel, which will mean that I can swap them over and look at getting the other one apart, and it’s actually only £10 more to get a handbuilt one from my usual parts supplier, so that’s a no brainer. Although there is a 2 week lead time, so I need to nurse this one though at least another 250 miles of commuting and that's another £150 that I wasn’t planning on spending. All of which adds to my argument that it’s actually more costly commuting to work by bike than it would be by car. We’ll save that argument for another day though, and when the new wheel gets here I’ll get a few photos of stripping the old one down and we’ll have a look at swapping the allegedly unreplaceable bearings! Anyhow, I suspect none of you are here to read about me pottering around fixing things, whilst moaning about the cost. So what else have I been up too? Well, Saturday didn’t look too promising on the weather front, so I came up with a cunning plan to try and make the most of the day without getting too wet, which unusually worked out quite well. Saturday morning I pottered around at home and wandered up the allotment for a couple of hours, before rendezvousing with ‘The Emma’ at home for Bacon Butties for lunch. You can’t say we don’t know how to live the high life, there might not be any posh restaurants, or exotic holidays here, but who needs those when your having Bacon Butties for a lunchtime treat. And a rare treat it was too! Anyway, the actual plan for the day was to head down towards Midhurst, ready for Sunday’s Audax fun, whilst trying to take advantage of a forecast break in the rain by getting in a few running miles along the South Downs Way in the afternoon. By the time I got down to my planned start point at Cocking, the rain had indeed stopped, and although the clouds looked menacing, it was at least dry. I got a real result too. I only did just over 8 miles as part of my slow return to running (that’s 18 for this week, up from 16 the week before and 12 the week before that), so I was only out for just over an hour. But it was raining heavily a few minutes before I set off, and within 5 minutes of getting back to the van, the rain had returned and was in for the night. 8 miles and I didn’t even get wet, it’s not very often that happens, maybe my luck is changing for the better! Joking aside, those 8 miles along the South Downs Way were bloody brilliant. I mentioned last week that I’ve really missed running these past few months. The sense of freedom, the exploration, the feel of the ground beneath your feet, the open spaces, the landscape opening out in front of you, the peace and quiet and the opportunity to be at one with yourself and the world. The little tracks that just cry out to be explored, the birds flitting from the hedgerow as you approach, the muddy puddles that block your way until you give in the inevitable and run straight through, the cold muddy water splashing your calves, and your breathing, ragged and short, as you climb yet another hill to take in the view from the summit. Oh yes, I’ve really missed running and I’m desperately hoping and praying that by taking it slow I can keep going, even if I never get any further than the 8 miles I did Saturday, that’s a million times better than no miles at all! Sometimes I should just keep my big mouth shut, and Sunday turned out to be one of those days. After a cosy night in the van listening to the rain beat down endlessly on the roof, Sunday didn’t actually look that bad (I don’t think it stopped raining from the time I finished my run, until about 07:00, and that includes the extra hour courtesy of the clocks changing). But Sunday morning looked considerably better than it had been overnight. In fact when I checked the forecast as I sat in bed having a brew, the forecast was for a dry morning, with some heavy rain showers later in the day. I can handle heavy showers, and if they could wait until later in the day would be even better. Getting wet towards the end of the day is far better than starting the day wet! So things didn’t look too bad for the Petworth End Of Summer 200Km Audax, which made a change because I’ve done this ride a few times before and it’s been more normal to start in the pouring rain than it has to start in the dry. Pre-ride rituals completed, we were on the road bang on 08:30, heading for the first of the day's checkpoints at Liss. The roads, wet and puddle laden after the night's rain, were quiet as we headed out of Petworth along the A283 before turning off onto quieter country lanes. Rounding a bend in the road approaching Lickfold I had the first indication that the day may not turn out as planned, as the road suddenly disappeared into a lake sized puddle, complete with stranded car and a runner wading his way slowly through! The wading runner confirmed that A) that wasn’t his car, and more importantly B) that the water was only knee high, but the current was quite strong on the corner where the river had burst its banks and overflowed the bridge. By the time I’d debated my next move a couple more riders had arrived to survey the scene, and taking solace in numbers we all plucked up the courage to go for it. The jogger was right too, it was only knee high, but that's deep enough to fill your boots full of icy water and, the current was quite strong on the bend too. Safely across the ocean I pushed on with water squelching between my toes and dripping out of my sodden boots. Not pleasant, but not the end of the world and all part of the adventure.
By the time I got to Liss the weather forecast had been proven incorrect, and a steady rain was falling, a rain that got heavier and colder on route to the next checkpoint at Petersfield. Stopping for a “proof of passage” receipt at Petersfield I took the opportunity to add another waterproof layer under my lightweight jacket whilst debating the weather forecast with a couple of fellow riders. We all seemed to be of the opinion that the worst of the weather was due in the afternoon, and it was already pretty bad! How much worse could it get? As I made my way towards Chichester the rain eased off and things started to dry out. In fact as I started working my way back towards Petworth for the lunch stop I was actually quite enjoying myself. That wasn’t going to last though, and by the time I started working my way back over the South Downs the rain had returned. Not too bad at first, but by the time I started the descent from Duncton hill it was throwing it down. This wasn’t part of the deal. The rain stung my eyes, poured from the rim of my helmet, soaked into my boots and chilled my legs, whilst the cars continued to stream past inches from my handlebars, giving not an inch, despite the deteriorating conditions and reduced visibility! Hmmmmmm this isn't much fun! It’s not very often that I consider quitting. But today, there was an ideal opportunity, as the route passed back through Petworth and the safety of the dry, warm, van. If the forecast was right and this was going to continue all afternoon, another 5 or 6 hours of being soaked to the bone wasn’t going to be much fun, and for what gain? So that’s where my, and most of the others, ended our day. I dropped back into the start to say my thanks to the organising team and let them know that I was calling it a day, and slunk back to the van, where the rain continued to fall relentlessly for the next couple of hours as I had my lunch and a brew. 51 miles in the rain then, a big puddle and a first Audax DNF (Did Not Finish). I can’t win them all though, and that was a sensible decision. There’s no point in getting pneumonia, riding down an invisible pothole in the rain, or getting knocked off by some inattentive driver who’s not prepared to slow down despite the conditions. Sometimes it’s better to say enough is enough and come back to play again another day! But most importantly, a massive thanks to the organiser for putting on Sundays ride, and a huge “Chapeau” to the 7 hardy souls who pushed on and finished the 200km day despite some atrocious conditions!
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Hmmmm, it would appear that last week turned out to be a bit damp, or was it just me?
Last week's weather was certainly a bit changeable. Sunday night was so cold at home that we lit the fire for the first time since last winter and my cycle into work was a bit chilly to say the least with a hard frost on the cars when I set off on my bike Monday morning. Wednesday morning at the same time, the thermometer said 15 degrees when I went to work, and since then I don’t think it’s really stopped raining. Despite the rain, I’ve had to get all my shorts back out again, having said on Sunday 'That's it I won’t need these again. Winters here’! The rain isn’t currently stopping play though (although it did make me think about it Saturday morning) and I’ve been out and about all weekend. Saturday was the Mid Sussex Hillier Audax. You’ll note the ‘Hillier’ there, because I could have just done the ‘Hilly’ version, but where would the fun be in that? To that end, I took the van down to the start Friday night, expecting a leisurely drive down and an early night, but oh how wrong could I be. I normally try to avoid traveling too far, so this weekend's fun was at about the limit of my vehicle based travels, and Friday was a reminder of why I try to avoid it. An accident on the M3 caused a delay, followed by the normal slow traffic at the M3/M25 interchange, and then to top it all off, some idiot had managed to to roll their car at the M25/M23 junction closing the motorway! So what should have been under 2 hours actually took 3 and a half, and reminded me that I hate driving at the best of times. 3 hours on the bike in the pouring rain, with the wind in my face, that's bearable. An hour sat in the van with the heating on, a hot brew in my flask and the radio for company? No thanks, I’d rather be out in the rain! Which I suppose in some ways is lucky, because when I woke up on Saturday morning the rain was lashing against the side of the van, and the forecast said it was in for the day. In fact the forecast, and the sound of the rain was enough to make me seriously consider if I was going out to play, or should I just stay in bed? In the end though, sense prevailed, and by the time I made my way down to the start at 08:30, the early heavy rain had petered out to more of a heavy drizzle. Luckily, I wasn’t the only brave soul that was prepared to face the weather, as there was probably a dozen or so other idiots milling around at the start discussing the great British weather by the time I got there, which was somewhat reassuring, in a kind of British eccentricity type of way.
Unfortunately, due to the wet and soggy conditions there’s a shortage of pictures from Saturday's ride, so you're just going to have to believe me when I say ‘ It was wet, humid, and hilly’.
I’ll admit that it didn’t rain all of the time. But when it wasn’t raining, there was still rain in the air. And the one time I did consider taking my jacket off, because it was far too hot to be wearing it, just the thought was enough to make it throw it down again 2 seconds later, as if to say ‘don’t even think about taking that off’! That’s not to say that it wasn’t a good day though. In fact I’d go as far as saying I had a great time out in the rain. There’s something special about taking on the weather and being outside when everyone else is hiding away indoors complaining that it’s too grim to go out. It’s the same as riding into the night. Everyone else is going to bed, but I’m pushing on so I must be winning. There’s that shared camaraderie with the other riders and more often runners (they seem to be hardier than the cyclists), that you get when the weather's grim. We're all in this together, and we're obviously all bonkers, but we’re still out here getting the miles in and that deserves a nod, or raised finger, of mutual respect as you pass each other like ships in the night.
It was a great route too, and one that I’d imagine would be fantastic if the weather was good. With plenty of far reaching views from the hill tops, and numerous beautiful country lanes to occupy your thoughts, there was more than enough going on to make the time pass in a blur. The fact that it was still a treat in the rain, with wet leaves and loose gravel covering every descent and causing the rear wheel to slip as soon as you got out of the saddle on the climbs, pays testament to how good a route it was.
Good route or not, it couldn’t go on forever, and at only 100 Km by early afternoon I was back at the start. I may have had wet feet (in fact my boots were still wet when I put them on to go to work on Monday) but I’d had a great day out, and looking back I really don’t know why I was even considering not starting due to the rain. At the end of the day it’s only a bit of water, and it’s pretty rare that it rains all day, I guess I must just be getting soft in my old age!
Having been in two minds about going out to play on Saturday morning, I was still in two minds about what to do Saturday afternoon. With the rain continuing to fall and no sign of it abating, I had 2 choices. I could either head for home, or find somewhere on the way back to park up for the night with a view to getting in a bit off gentle running on Sunday morning.
A look at the map with a brew and a biscuit for places on the way home, threw up the North Downs Way at Guildford as a good start point. The North Downs Way is on sandy soil there, so as long as the rain abated at some point during the night it shouldn't be too muddy, and it left me close enough to home to not have a long drive on Sunday afternoon. Now, I’m not holding my breath on the running front, but I think things are finally on the mend and I’ve started slowly putting a few miles in again. I’m not counting my chickens before they hatch, and I’m forcing myself to really limit the miles and time on my feet, but I’m hopeful that I may eventually be able to get back some form of proper running, even if it’s nowhere near where I was at the start of the year. Sunday morning dawned clear and bright and pulling on my running shoes after a light breakfast felt familiar and exciting after such a long lay off. (Apart from a few brief miles in June I haven't run properly since the Cerne Giant Marathon back in March!). But those first few steps on the sandy soil with the cold morning air biting at my exposed arms and legs, the birds singing and the sun shining down from a clear blue sky instantly reminded me how much I’ve missed running and especially off road running over the past few months. Plodding gently along the sandy trail, following the North Downs Way signs, watching my foot placement on the rough ground, dodging the puddles and other obstructions on the narrow path and admiring the beauty of the British countryside, I felt like I’d never been away. The depressing days thinking I might never run again, hobbling up and down the stairs, struggling even to ride my bike some days, instantly forgotten as the first mile unfolded under my feet. From the off, the path wound slowly uphill, leg muscles that haven't been called on for months slowly remembered what we were doing, whilst the familiar, but forgotten, feel of my breathing, regular and in time with my footfall, provided a steadying reassurance and a reminder not to push too hard. I didn’t really have a destination in mind when I set off, but I knew that St Marthas Church wasn’t too far away which seemed like a reasonable aiming point, and then I could see how I felt when I got there. What I didn’t expect was to feel like I did when I did get there! Surprisingly it wasn’t as far as I thought it was and within a couple of miles I was cresting the climb up to the church. I’ve shared pictures from here before, and on a good day you can see all the way to the South Downs, and even on a bad day the view is worth the effort of the climb up. Sunday though, as I turned the final corner and came out from the tree lined path and the view opened out in front of me I was stopped dead in my tracks. The valleys below were filled with low lying mist, whilst the sun shone down from the clear sky. A train rattled along in the distance, the birds sang from the trees surrounding me, a pair of squirrels bound effortlessly across the path and into the trees on the other side, and instantly all was good with the world again This is why I run and cycle, this is why I’ll put up with the cold and the rain, this is why I’ll struggle on with frozen fingers and toes on a winter's day, this is why I’ll put up with inattentive car drivers trying to kill me on a regular basis, and this is why I am going to get back running eventually even if it kills me! It’s the odd day when you round a corner and are met with a view like this that makes it all worthwhile. It’s going to be a short and sweet one this week, mainly because as I sit here on Sunday afternoon, I can’t actually think of anything to write about. Sometimes the words seem to flow onto the page like a leaking pipe soaking into your carpet, and other times it’s like getting blood out of “The Emma” (nigh on impossible apparently). I was off work last week (just to fit in with “The Emma’s” leave) so you would think that I would have loads to tell you about, and in fact I was incredibly busy, it’s just that none of it’s really newsworthy or particularly interesting. And for some strange reason, I don’t even seem to have many pictures from my endeavours to share! Most of what I have been up to, has been catching up on odd jobs and finishing off other things that should have been finished ages ago, in an attempt to clear a bit of the backlog before I start anything else. For instance, I’ve finally got round to fitting the carpet into the airing cupboards, and refitted the trims around the front door, both jobs that have been outstanding since “The Carpet Caper” back in April. I’ve also tidied out the storage garage and fitted shelving down one side so that I can actually get in there now, and at the same time thrown away loads of junk that I’d been saving for some unknown reason, neither of which jobs are particularly exciting. Whilst we're talking about unexciting jobs, the workshop window has been letting in moisture for a couple of years, where the frame wasn't sealed to the wall properly. So I spent half a day digging out all the old, perished, sealant, repointing some of the brickwork and resealing it properly, which will hopefully stop the damp which is creeping down the wall. Although only time will tell if that’s been successful. I’ve had a couple of mornings on the Allotment and in the gardens at home too, tidying up ready for the winter. The Tomatoes and Cucumbers have finally come to an end in the greenhouse, so they've been cut down and added to the compost heap, and the Courgettes have also met the same fate. The Squashes (Butternut and Autumn Crown?) have been harvested and are currently in the cold frame hardening off before I bring them home for storage (hopefully before the first frosts) and I’ve had a good general tidy up too. Oh, and the Chilli plants are fully laden with fruit still, some of which has ripened up already. Hopefully, if the weather stays mild it might still be warm enough for some more to ripen up before the frost gets them too. The other job that’s been ongoing all week has involved making some new end panels for the kitchen to replace the ones I showed the other week which have delaminated. Now this is the sort of little project that I normally get loads of photos for as it’s not too involved and easy to document. For some reason though this time there’s none, so you’ll just have to take my word for it on that one, and if they turn out OK then I’ll stick some pictures up when I come to fit them. (They best had, because getting the paint matched to the other units cost a large fortune) And when you look at it like that, it doesn’t sound like I’ve done much with my week off, but I haven’t stopped. I’ve been struggling to keep my eyes open much after 9 O’clock every evening, and I’m almost tempted to say that I’ll be glad to go back to work for a rest, although that’s so far from the truth it’s unbelievable!
The good news from a blog perspective though, is I’ve got cycling fun lined up for the next 4 or 5 weekends, so I should be back to having something to talk about again, and weather permitting a few more pictures to share. But before I go, and while I’m talking about bikes. I’ve come to the conclusion that this cycling lark is blooming expensive, and I’m pretty much convinced that commuting to work by bike (or at least across the distance that I do) isn’t any cheaper than driving to work. In fact, I’d wager that it costs more in the long run, especially as I still need to run a car for other stuff (I can’t do the shopping on my bike because there’s nowhere safe to park it (thanks supermarkets and thieving scumbags) and I can’t go to the rubbish tip on my bike, because a sofa won’t fit and they don’t like my van, and I can’t, well you get the idea). When you take in to account the wear and tear on my bike from riding it in all weathers, and the need for extra clothes, and the wear and tear on them, it soon adds up. For instance this month my body warmer finally gave up the ghost (the back ripped as I took it off) and I had to replace a jacket that wasn’t going to see me through another winter (I knew that was knackered when I stopped using it in the spring, so that wasn't unexpected). However, the cost of those 2 small purchases alone would have filled my car up at least twice at the current cost of petrol, so that's probably 3 months worth of commuting to work if I went by car. And that's before we even start thinking about the cost of winter boots, summer shoes, long and short cycling bottoms, waterproof jackets, gloves, helmets, decent lights and the other multitude of things that are required to cycle any sort of distance all year round, none of which would be required if I made the trip by car! What actually got me thinking about the cost of my daily cycle commute wasn't my torn body warmer though, it was the bottom bracket on my commuting bike. When I was giving it a quick clean the other day I noticed that the top derailleur pulley was seized. Now that’s not an unusual occurrence, they’re cheap bearings and they’re exposed to all the grit, grime and rain that gets thrown around by the wheels and chain. Sometimes, I can free them off by prizing the bearing grease seals off, cleaning the bearings out and re-greasing them, which usually gets a few more miles out of them. And if that doesn't work, it’s just about possible to replace the bearings if you're careful, but that only works once as the originals are moulded in as part of the manufacturing process, so it does a bit of damage swapping them (they're clearly not designed to be replaced). Anyway, I digress, because whilst I was fixing the derailleur pulley I noticed that the Bottom Bracket bearings were knackered too. Luckily I had a spare one, so swapping it over wasn’t a big job, but what is annoying was the fact that I was sure that I only replaced that a few months ago. In fact I even remembered doing it one evening in the winter! Which was what set me off on the rant about cycling to work being expensive in the first place. Now, a while ago, because I seemed to be forever replacing bike parts, I started keeping track of what got replaced on which bike and when, and its made for some quite interesting discoveries. So once I’d got cleaned up I had a look, and guess what I discovered? It wasn’t this spring that I replaced that bottom bracket, it was actually February 2022 on that bike, and since then it’s done 5856 miles. That’s 5856 miles in all weathers, which is probably more than most bikes do in their lifetime, and whilst I throw a bit of oil on it on a regular basis, it’s a workhorse not a racehorse, and gets treated as such. So Mr Shimano, I guess I owe you an apology for ranting about your rubbish bearings, it would appear that they’re actually quite good (although if you fitted grease shields to both sides of the bottom bracket bearing then they’d probably last even longer)! But my original point still stands. It's blinking expensive this cycling lark, I mean, how can it possibly be £100 for a jacket with no arms, it's less than that for one with arms!
Is there time for one last hurrah in the form of a bit of camping before the nights really draw in and it gets all wet and muddy? Of course there is! With the right kit it’s never the wrong season for a bit of camping and if I can tie that in with a bit of bike fun then so much the better.
Which is a really rubbish way of saying “I’ve been camping this weekend”. Before I start blathering on, I will just say that camping on campsites isn’t really my bag. Why pay to pitch a tent in the corner of a muddy field full of people, some of whom always insist on talking at the top of their voices for half the night and making as much noise as possible, when I can find a little out of the way spot for my hammock and get a few hours of sleep for free? Sometimes though, needs must, and there’s not much choice but to pay someone to sleep in their muddy field. In this case, I needed somewhere to leave the camping kit while I pootled off for a cheeky little Audax in the form of the Ticking Tortoise (and who wouldn't want to do an Audax with a name like that). Whilst I’m game for most silly ideas, the idea of lugging a fully loaded touring bike, complete with camping kit, around a 160 km audax, whilst everyone else shoot’s off on their lightweight road bikes didn’t really appeal, so in this case, having somewhere to leave the camping kit was a bit of a necessity. With my bike loaded up Thursday night, I had a cunning plan. Ride into work Friday morning complete with all the camping kit and spend Friday morning clock watching, from where I could get away as early as possible and cover the 89 miles down to Bristol Friday afternoon. Hopefully, if I could escape from work early enough, I’d be able to get to the campsite and get set up before dark, which would be a result, but if not, I had a headtorch. Saturday, I’d ride the Ticking Tortoise and then on Sunday it was just a case of riding the 80 miles back home. Which even if I do say so myself, seemed to be a brilliant plan!
The first part of my brilliant plan was flawlessly executed and I covered to 11 miles into work (complete with everything I’d need for a weekend away) with no dramas, although it’s always a bit strange starting your day by heading 11 miles in the wrong direction, meaning my 89 miles from work to Bristol would actually be a 100 mile day, but thats all part of the fun isn’t it?
I managed to escape work just before lunchtime and was swiftly on the road, next stop Bristol, but first the little matter of familiar roads back to Basingstoke and then onwards through Newbury, Hungerford, Marlborough and a multitude of small, beautiful villages, each with their own charm and beauty. With the sun shining weakly from the early Autumn sky, all appeared to be well with the world. Well, that is until I actually got moving and discovered that it was actually quite windy, and that wind was blowing directly in my face. A situation that wouldn’t normally be that much of an issue, except today was all one way, and that way was the way that the wind was coming from. 89 miles with the wind in my face wasn’t going to be much fun!
By the time I got to Hungerford and stopped for a late lunch, that wind was starting to take its toll. I was only 35 miles in and it was tough going, the extra weight of the camping gear, coupled with the invisible force which was trying to push me backwards was making for some hard miles.
An hour later as I slogged up the long climb from Marlborough to cross the Ridgeway, I’d decided that I wasn’t actually having much fun, every meter was a battle and I knew that things were going to get worse as the afternoon wore on and I got more tired. It’s that old mental battle again. The second you let the desire to stop win, it’s game over, so there’s only one option. Head down, set yourself little targets and push on. “Another 30 minutes and I’ll have a biscuit”, “get to the M4 crossing and I’ll stop for a minute”, “get to the top of this hill and I’ll have a sandwich”. And so with little milestones the afternoon wore on and the miles steadily ticked down. A handily positioned bench next to small memorial to a pair of WW2 Spitfire pilots killed in a training accident, provided an opportunity to sit and rest for a few minutes and provided a welcome distraction from the wind, as did a brief conversation with a fellow cyclist on their commute home after their days work, who enquired after my destination.
Eventually though, after the long slow drag up towards Hinton, the views opened up to reveal Bristol and the Seven Valley beyond. The end was in sight and not before time!
It’s amazing how quickly the hard work is forgotten, and rolling down the final few hills, it seemed almost impossible to think that just minutes earlier I had been cursing the wind and desperately wishing the day to be over. Now, mere seconds later, with the evening sun casting long shadows and the day drawing to a close, I didn’t want it to end. End it did though as I rolled into the campsite and found a flattish spot amongst the caravans and tents to pitch my little home in the last of the daylight, before settling down for tea by torchlight and an early night.
Occasionally I wish my predictions weren’t quite so accurate and I’d like to say that I awoke early, refreshed and ready for another beautiful day. What I’ll say instead is, I awoke after a fitful night's sleep where I was kept awake until 02:30 by a group over the far side of the camping field who insisted on chatting loudly about every subject under the sun! As I said, mixing with the great British public isn’t my strong forte.
Anyway, there’s no point crying over a bad night's sleep, and there was a whole day of bicycling fun to look forward to. So a quick breakfast and then a few easy miles to get the legs warmed up to get me to the start where a brew and a cinnamon roll nicely replaced some of the calories that I’d used getting there as I waited for the start.
I think I commented the other week on Bristols excellent cycling infrastructure (take note other councils, painting a bicycle sign on the pavement does not make it a cycle lane) and today we made full use of it, seamlessly traversing from one side of the city to the other without setting a tyre on the road.
Early morning joggers and dog walkers mixed happily on the wide, traffic free, purposely designed paths, and the first of the day’s many miles were a traffic free delight. In fact, even as we left the confines of the city it wasn't long before we picked up yet more traffic free paths in the form of the festival-way and the strawberry-line which took us almost all of the way to the only significant climb of the day at Bleadon Hill.
As if the stunning views from the top of Bleadon Hill weren’t enough reward for the effort of getting up there, the top of the climb also marked the next control point, where the days organiser, with the assistance of most of his family, had set up a pop up tea stop with a hot brew and selection of cake, to reward the effort.
Suitably refreshed and refueled, it was straight back down the hill, to pick up some flatter miles across Somerset as we headed for Glastonbury. Now, I’ll confess that this isn’t an area that I’m overly familiar with and as I traversed the quiet country lanes the unusual geological features stood out. Glastonbury Tor is the best known, but there are a number of other small hills which appear to rise, like pimples, from the surface of the land, standing proud against the skyline. With plenty of time to think and allow my imagination to do its best as I cycled along, it was easy to think of prehistoric man using those vantage points to survey the land below and provide protection from marauding monsters.
With my imagination running wild, the miles to Glastonbury, which marked the furthest outbound point passed in a blur, and making the turn to start heading towards home brought the wind onto my back as we ventured into the Somerset Levels.
On the flat ground with a helpful breeze pushing on my back, the miles came easily. Cows grazed contentedly in the small fields lining the roadside, green drainage ditches keeping the small fields dry lined the roadside ready to catch out the inattentive with a soaking should you take your eye from the road. Farmers noisily harvested maize for winter fodder and large tractors traversed the small lanes carrying the vital Autumn harvest back for winter storage. A row of modern electricity pylons which I had noticed from our earlier visit to the vantage point at Bleadon Hill stood out against the flat countryside, marking our return route, and Bleadon Hill itself, the location of the day's next checkpoint hove into view in the far distance.
Toiling back up Bleadon Hill in the afternoon sunshine for the second time I started to consider my sanity. One big climb a day just for the fun of it is fine, but two ascents just for the sake of it, well that’s just stupid! But it wouldn’t be an Audax without some stupidity would it, and anyway, no one was making me slog breathlessly up this big hill were they? And so I slogged on, spinning my legs in the smallest gear, surmounting the climb as it wound endlessly upwards, driven on by the promise of more cake at the top!
More cake? Well there’s no point putting in all that effort without the reward is there, and if someone's nice enough to go to all the effort of setting up a cake stop in the middle of nowhere then it would be rude not to partake wouldn’t it! And anyway, I was going to need the energy to push out the final miles back home.
And just about manage to push out the final miles back home I did. Although I’ll admit that by the time I reached the outskirts of Bristol, my legs were starting to feel the effort and I may have had to stop for some emergency chocolate HobNobs to convince them to push out the last couple of miles. Another fine day out then, another 110 miles to add to the year's tally, another Audax tick in the box, more new roads, places, faces and sights, and certainly worth the trip down the Bristol for.
A quieter night Saturday resulted in a far better night's sleep (I’m guessing my chatty neighbours had either burned themselves out on Friday night, or gone home) and I was up early and packed up not long after it got light.
Sunday was a bit of a strange one weather wise as it was really warm and very humid, in fact I was down to just a thin top and shorts with the sweat dripping from my brow before I’d even set off, which is pretty unusual, especially for this time of year.
With the wind on my back I made good progress on the way home, steadily progressing along the quiet country roads, whilst most sensible people enjoyed a Sunday morning lie in and it wasn’t until Marlborough that I started picking up a bit more traffic as the shops opened and everyone rushed out to do whatever normal people do on a Sunday morning.
A brief stop for a sandwich between Marlborough and Hungerford and a slightly longer stop, sat in the sun on the way into Kingsclere, kept the fires burning, and with nothing else of interest to report I was back home by early afternoon, sorting out dirty washing, having a brew with “The Emma” and hanging the damp tent up to dry in the garage. That’s a pretty good weekend by my measure, 2 nights under canvas, 290 miles under my wheels, and plenty of new roads, places, and sights, to occupy my desire for adventure. Yes, I’m happy with that for a bit of early Autumn adventuring! |
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
March 2024
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