Right, a joke’s a joke, and I can take a bit of humour as well as the next man, but I’ve had enough now! Since the middle of September, I’ve been on 7 Audax’s (The End Of The Lines and Wye Gravel, The Ticking Tortoise, The Mid Sussex Hiller, The End Of Summertime and this weekend The Upper Thames and with the exception of The Ticking Tortoise, where it was only drizzling, it’s absolutely thrown it down with rain for all of them! And for the one before that at the start of September (The Morris Major) it was so hot that only a few of us actually started, for fear of heatstroke! I mean, seriously, how can it only rain at the weekend? Looking back through my diary at work, I’ve gotten properly wet commuting to work 13 times so far this year, and on the weekends, it’s 11 times. Now, considering that I commute to and from work every weekday, but don’t cycle every weekend, and there’s 5 days in the week and only 2 at the weekend, that must mean it rains a lot more at the weekends than it does during the week! And how can that possibly be? I’m guessing from my little rant above that you might have gathered that I got a bit wet this weekend again! What you might not have guessed is that for only the second time in my Audaxing career, and the second time in as many weeks, I DNF’d (Did Not Finish) again on Saturday, and I’m bloody annoyed with myself about it! Saturday was the Upper Thames 200KM Audax, which is a cheeky little jaunt around the edge of the Chilterns and the Cotswolds. Now I’ve done this ride a few times over the years, and I can’t think of a single occasion where it didn’t rain at some point in the day, but that’s never stopped me before, and it’s always a good day out. This year though the weather in the last couple of weeks has been pretty dire and the forecast for Saturday during the preceding days had been for more of the same, so rain wasn’t unexpected. Unsurprisingly then, Saturday morning I woke to the sound of rain falling steadily on the van roof, each and every drop of which added to the puddles already on the roads and the rivers cascading off the fields, which is never a good sign when you've got a 200KM day in front of you. By the time I’d had breakfast and made my way to the start it was still raining, and the skies showed no signs of clearing any time soon. The few unhappy looking faces at the start and the table full of uncollected Brevet cards seemed to echo the grey skies outside, and if I’m honest, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such despondent looking faces and general apathy to start a ride as I saw on Saturday morning. As we stood in the rain waiting for the 07:30 start time, it was clear that this was not going to be a pleasant morning. Eventually though 07:30 came and we slowly departed, heads down, shoulders hunched, each probably wondering, as I was, what the hell we were doing. Rivers ran in the gutters, puddles the size of small oceans hid potholes the size of open cast mines, sharp shards of flint mixed with mud and general debris coated the roads, each laying patiently in wait whilst valiantly trying to find a way in to puncture a tyre, and still the rain fell from the sky like a shower in full flow. Within minutes of our departure the rain had penetrated my gloves and filled my boots with cold, dirty, water, and the cold, absent in past weeks, had started to penetrate my defences. Battling up the first of the days climbs against the river which was flowing strongly down the hill restored a bit of warmth, but I was certainly already colder than I had been for many months, which is never a good sign when you're only a few miles into a long day. Pushing on, trying to stay warm, as I approached the first of the days checkpoints the rain eased, and I’m even tempted to say it may have stopped for a few minutes. Any relief was short lived though, as minutes later I was wheel hub deep in a small lake, the filthy water filling my boots again as I fought my way through the flood water, whilst trying valiantly not to fall off in the knee-deep ocean! By the time I reached Henley I was really starting to feel the cold, and spotting a small supermarket I stopped in search of washing up gloves to add under my cycling gloves in a last-ditch attempt to warm up my hands. Pulling on washing up gloves which are at least two sizes too small (that's all they had) onto soaking wet, freezing cold hands, is no mean feat, I can tell you. But having managed to get them on, at least my hands were sort of dry at last, and as I set off again it was with renewed hope that I might make it through the day. Minutes later, those hopes were cruelly dashed as the rain returned with a vengeance as I made my way slowly up the long slow climb past Stonor Park to regain the high ground of the Chilterns. This time however, the extra energy expenditure of the climb failed to work its magic, and the cold continued to seep slowly and inexorably into my core. Approaching the top of the climb a handily placed shelter hove into view and I pulled up in another vain attempt to get warmed up again. Knowing the weather was going to be against me, I’d packed a spare pair of dry socks and an extra top, and I took the time to get out of my wet socks and into some dry ones, adding a couple of plastic bags that I'd acquired at my earlier stop, before putting my sodden boots back on in the hope that they may keep the worst of the water off my new dry socks, and donned my extra (emergency layer). As we all know, what goes up, must come down, and shortly after the climb came the long, fast descent into Wallingford. Coming down the steep road the rain fell in sheets, stinging my face and obscuring my view as I hung onto the brakes, trying desperately to control my speed on the steep descent, whilst at the same time get the ordeal over with as quickly as possible. This just wasn’t fun! Coming back out of Wallingford, as if a sign from God, I noticed a small road sign pointing in the opposite direction, stating that it was only 4 miles back to the start. Initially I rode past, and then I slowed, my mind trying to convince my heart that continuing wasn’t a great idea. A few meters further and I’d rolled to a stop. Standing in a muddy field gate, with the rain pouring down, I spent a few minutes contemplating my fate. I was wet, I was cold, there was no chance of drying out and warming up unless the rain stopped, which didn’t look likely, and even if it did, the wind was picking up. Was this really fun? But at the same time, two DNF’s in as many weeks. I’m supposed to be a big tough endurance cyclist, not a scared of the rain, stay at home weakling! As I stood there with the rain dripping down my collar, the cold biting into my wet fingers and toes, and my bike gently rusting beside me, it wasn’t a hard choice to make. 4 miles back to the warmth of the van, or another 90 in the rain. What would you have done, in that situation? I’m still bloody annoyed with myself though. A couple of hours later, the rain had stopped, and the sun made a brief appearance. There’s no doubt about the fact that if I’d just pushed on for another hour or so, I’d have got round, and probably have had a great day with it. The fact is though I made some silly mistakes early on, mistakes that I shouldn't have made. I knew the weather was going to be bad, so why did I leave the washing up gloves which fit well and keep my hands warm and dry under my cycling gloves at home? If I'd started with those on, as I normally would on a wet winter ride, my fingers would never have got wet, or cold. Likewise, I realized Friday night that I didn’t have any plastic bags with me to put between my boots and socks, a neat little trick which is about the only thing I’ve ever found that comes even close to keeping my feet dry(ish). Why didn’t I just go out and get some instead of thinking ‘It’s not that cold, it’ll be alright’. And why the bloody hell didn’t I start in waterproof trousers! There are 3 little things there, which had I acted on them and dressed accordingly, would undoubtedly have meant I’d have finished Saturday's ride, warm, dry, and comfortable. But because I’m an idiot, I ignored all my previous learning, and thought ‘I’ll be fine, it’s only a bit of rain’. Idiot!!!!! Typically, Sunday was a far nicer day with only a couple of light showers in the afternoon, not that that was a lot of help, because there was no cycling planned. We did have other plans though, so there was no lazing in bed, and I was up bright and early with “The Emma” in tow.
Having “The Emma” in tow is unusual in itself, but I needed her assistance, so she was going to have to get up early too. In fact, we were on the road before 08:00 on a beautiful Autumn morning, heading for the South coast. I can hear you all thinking “Ahhh, a romantic day out at the seaside, how nice” but you’d be wrong. Yes, we were having a day out, but we were actually off to look at another car, not sit on the promenade eating jellied Eels and Whelks or build sandcastles. You’ll note that I said “another” there and not “a” because if I’m honest the car situation is getting a bit out of hand now, and this one brings the total to 7 between us. The ironic thing being that I do far more miles a year cycling than I ever do driving. In fact, I hate driving. But “The Emma's” got to have her hobbies too, and I’ve got plans for this one that don’t actually involve driving it for the foreseeable future. Anyway, to cut a long story short, we had a pleasant drive down, spent a couple of hours looking at my latest purchase, went and had some breakfast, and “The Emma” drove the latest acquisition home (see I told you I needed her help). I did offer to drive it home myself and she could drive the van back, but she muttered something about rather having needles poked in her eyes, grabbed the keys out of my hand and was gone! So, in addition to the rest of the fleet (1 camper van, a 206 GTI, a Fiesta ST, 2 Subaru Impreza’s, and a Subaru Brat) we’ve now got a 25-year-old MX5 that just about scraped through its last MOT and is about as likely to pass the next one as I am to fly to the moon under my own power. But that’s not a problem, because my intentions are to drive it until the current MOT expires (or preferably until I’ve finished a couple of other little projects) and then it’s going to be used as the donor car for a kit car project. See, I told you a few months ago I had plans for THIS LITTLE SPACE.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
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
Categories
All
|