Something different this week blog fans. I’ve been on an adventure!
A few weeks ago, work decided that it would be a really great idea if we all slogged up to RAF Cosford for a seminar. Ohhh I hear you all saying, a seminar, won’t that be nice! Well, for a starters don’t be fooled, from what I know of seminars, it’s just another name for a collective bollocking, or the chance for the management to foist their latest stupid ideas on us, whilst trying to sell it as good for the environment/planet/whales/insert trendy topic of your choice. What’s this got to do with anything though I hear you thinking? Well, bear with me, because, whilst everyone else in the office was moaning like the devil about having to slog all that way for no real reason, my little brain was thinking ‘H’mmm Cosford, that must be about 150 miles away, I wonder if I could go by bike’. A quick look at the map confirmed that my initial mileage estimates were about right. But, whilst 150 miles is achievable in a day, someone somewhere decreed that cycling kit isn’t suitable attire for a seminar, so I was going to have to take a load of clothes with me, and 150 miles in a day with Panniers and a load of extra weight isn’t much fun. But what about splitting it over 2 days? A bit more Googling found 2 cheap Travelodge rooms, one in Worcester for on the way there, and another, just outside Stratford on Avon, for on the way back, making it a much more appealing proposition, and a far better idea than having to drive and suffer the delights of the M40, M5, M6 shenanigans!
Looking at the weather forecast during the week, I wasn’t so sure that my brilliant idea was actually as brilliant as I first thought, but having already got wet so many times this year, another couple of times was unlikely to kill me. And unlike the last couple of weekends, there wasn’t going to be an escape option this time. In for a penny, in for a pound, what's the worst that can happen?
Saturday, it looked like the forecasters may have got it wrong, because it was a beautiful day, which I took full advantage of by getting out early for 10 miles of running along the frosty, then foggy, then sunny local trails, with the conditions covering all 3 extremes in the space of 90 minutes, but enough about that, I Know that all you want to know is how wet did I get on Sunday? Well, you’ll be pleased to know that the answer is very, but not as wet as the weekend before, which whilst I think about it was so wet that when I cleaned my bike on Friday afternoon I could still hear water sloshing around in the rear wheel. On removing the tyre there was a good cup full of water trapped between the inner tube and tyre and in the wheel rim, which when you consider that the inner tube expands to fill the entire space within the tyre is pretty impressive, and something that I can only think of happening once before, when I’d had an equally wet day out!
But enough about that, let's get back to the tale in hand. Sunday morning, it appeared as if Saturday's sunny day had never existed, with the dawn bringing an unwelcome return to rain laden skies which could barely hold back the weight of water contained within the low scudding clouds.
There was no chance to wimp out this week though, it was all or nothing. Having learned my lesson last week I was fully prepared with all the waterproof kit when I set off from home just after 7. There’s not much to say about the first few hours. The rain held off for a while and moving steadily along familiar roads as I headed towards Hungerford before skirting the edge of Swindon to head into the Cotswolds, it was an enjoyable morning. As forecast though, by mid morning the rain had made its presence felt. Not the torrential downpours of the past couple of weeks, but a steady drizzle that persisted throughout the remainder of the day.
With the rain a constant companion, the views through the Cotswolds were somewhat restricted, but with the miles ticking steadily along it was easy to gauge progress by the changing terrain and the changing stone. Hampshire flint gave way to Cotswold limestone, before that in itself was replaced with Worcster sandstone.
It’s the little things like that which you notice as you cross the country by bike that make it such a special way to travel. You see things that you would never see from the motorway at 70MPH. But from the saddle, every hill, valley, village, town, country road and track has something to offer and something to occupy your thoughts. By mid afternoon the Cotswolds were behind me and I was making steady progress through the flatter lands of Worcestershire, heading for the day's destination at Worcester. Apple orchards replaced rolling arable land as I made my way through villages familiar from last year's Easter adventure when I followed the same route, heading for Oswestry. The weather had been better on that occasion, but despite the rain I was still almost disappointed as Worcester rolled into sight and the warmth and comfort of a bargain Travelodge room beckoned for the night.
Sunday night, as I lay warm and safe in my hotel room the wind roared around the building and the rain continued to fall. Monday morning dawned no better with repeated blustery showers darkening the skies as I had breakfast and made ready to leave.
Blustery winds, sunshine and showers set the scene for the day's ride, but with only 50 miles to go I was in no rush. A few easy miles along the Worcester and Birmingham canal allowed a pleasant and easy escape from the city, setting the scene for most of the day. Quiet traffic free lanes, pretty little towns and villages, and a strong cross tail wind to push me towards my destination. What's not to like about that? In fact there was nothing to not like about Mondays miles. Apart from one brief shower the rain stayed away, the strong wind was dragging warm air from somewhere to the south and the temperature was positively tropical for the time of year, and whilst the roads were muddy and wet, I was warm and dry. Result!
Wednesday's work day dragged intolerably on, as I watched the clock, patiently waiting to get on the road. 16:30 finally arrived though and I set off into the dusk heading for Alcester and my planned overnight stop.
There’s not much to say about those 50 miles in the dark, except to say that riding into the night was as magical as ever. Progressing steadily along dark roads and lanes, the odd house, windows curtained, doors firmly closed against the night, throwing shadows onto the road as I silently pass. Owls call in the distance, unseen creatures disturb the roadside undergrowth, as they go about their business. The pace is always slower in the dark, you can only see so far ahead no matter how bright your lights are, but the slower pace feels faster nonetheless. No visual clues to suggest mileage, no distant hills to work towards, just the hum of tyres on the wet road, the gentle brush of your clothing, the odd rattle from the panniers as you rattle over some unseen hole in the road and the pool of light that guides the way, never to be caught. The increased resistance and the road climbs and you start changing down gears the only indication of the terrain you're crossing. Work down the gears, still climbing, heart rate climbing, but there’s no more gears left to go down. A few pedal strokes out of the saddle to stretch tired muscles, and the climb continues in the dark. The tops unseen in the darkness, manage the effort, keep the breathing under control, strong, steady pedal strokes, how much further, no idea. And then the effort reduces, the unseen incline must be lessening, but is it the top, or just an interlude. In the daylight it would be easy to see, but in the dark, it’s just another guess and piece of the mysterious world you're passing through. In this instance it is the top, and the speed quickly picks up as I descend the other side. No time to relax though. Back up the gears to maintain control, start braking to scrub off some speed, there’s too many unseen obstacles in the dark to let the bike have its head. And so it continues. The 50 miles to my night stop take exactly 4 hours and that includes a stop to pick up some tea and bits for breakfast. Not fast by any stretch of the imagination, but as I get into bed, it’s with a sense of satisfaction at a job well done and some more magical memories to look back on when I’m too old and frail to “play out” any more
An early start Thursday morning saw me on the road just after 07:00, destination home, mainly via the same route as I took on the way up. It was a pleasant morning too. No wind to speak of, the sun made the odd appearance, and it was warm enough for just a body warmer, instead of a full jacket.
Once the early morning traffic had cleared, and I’d had words with the dozy idiot that pulled out of their drive right onto me, “Sorry mate I didn’t see you”. I’m glad I’m wearing a dayglo jacket and got all my lights on then, and it’s a good job I saw you! The roads were quiet and dry, allowing for good progress. The Cotswolds looked magnificent in the autumn sun. Beech trees, their leaves still bravely clinging on against the recent storms, golden yellow, adding majesty and colour to the browns and dark greens of the roadside fields. Church spires, the only sign of villages nestled in the valley bottoms hinted of hidden villages to investigate, whilst Kites circled and wheeled overhead, calling to each other in the still Autumn air. This or a few hours sitting in traffic on the M5, that’s an easy choice to make! A portion of chips sat on a park bench at Highworth provided sustenance for an afternoon in the saddle and I made it back as far as Hungerford before the rain made a reappearance. Not heavy but gentle drizzle, adding to the puddles lining the roads and necessitating a return of the rain jacket. The rain didn’t manage to spoil the day though and I was back home again just before 16:00, tired, dirty, damp, but happy. One thing’s for certain, if you’ve got to go to a boring old seminar, it’s far better going by bike than car, even if it does rain most of the way! Oh, and that's another 300 miles added to the years total!
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Paul PerrattOld enough to know better, young enough to still feel invincible, stupid enough to keep on trying the same thing again and again. Cyclist, Gardener, Runner, Hiker, Cook, Woodworker, Engineer, Jack of all trades and master of none, Anti social old git and all round miserable bugger. Archives
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