Well, what a week that was. I think that's the first time that we have ever been away and the sun has shone for the entire time. Maybe I'm being a bit unfair on the weather there as we usually seem to go away in the middle of winter, or early spring at best and over the years we have had some pretty good times when we have been away. This last week was exceptional though (unless your "The Emma" who's spent most of the time moaning that it's too hot), you just can't please some people, can you? The weather had to break eventually though and having sweated my bits off, cycling up to our holiday location last weekend, I'd been keeping an eye on the forecast all week, knowing that I was going to have to make the return journey this weekend. Typically, Friday looked like the day of change, with a band of heavy rain and thunderstorms positioned right across my route home from early Saturday morning onwards. Bugger, as we say in the business! Oh well, allegedly I'm waterproof and I've got to get home, so I guess I'm going to get wet. Or will I? Friday dawned overcast and cooler, a marked change from earlier in the week, and to be honest a bit of a blessing knowing the journey I was about to undertake and the struggles I'd faced getting up there the previous weekend. Packing up is always quicker than preparing to go away, and having helped "The Emma" load our worldly chattels into her car, I was on the road for 09:30, heading South, with just what I'd need for a night away, loaded onto the bike. If I'm being honest, I'd not been looking forward to this, the endless slog in the heat the previous week still fresh in my mind. But, in the cooler, damp air, it was all a different matter and the first long slow climb up to Monsal Dale fairly flew by. Smoothly over the top, and as I coasted down the long descent to Bakewell, it was with a smile back on my face. It's amazing how much difference those few degrees in temperature make and how quickly previous struggles are forgotten. I knew from the way up that the first 30 or so miles were going to be the hardest, with a series of stiff climbs and steep descents. There was nothing to tax me too hard today though, and climbs that had defeated me in the heat last week, seemed a matter of routine today. Making good time, by 11:00 I was back at Carsington Water, with the worst of the climbing behind me, just those forecast thunderstorms to worry about now then! Burton upon Trent came and went, without drama by lunchtime, and still feeling good, thoughts of possibly getting in front of the forecast weather started to play around in my head. I knew that Daventry was at 110 miles, and the weather was supposed to hit around 07:00 in the Oxford area. Maybe if I pushed on to the other side of Daventry today, I could get an early start in the morning and miss the worst of it? Batting the numbers and timings around, it seemed feasible, 110 plus miles shouldn't be too much of a problem, but then again, what if I just kept going and aimed for Bicester at 140 Miles? Choices, choices, lets just see how we get on and play it by ear. As the miles ticked by, Bicester started to look more and more feasible. Rolling into Daventry for 19:00 it was a definite option. But, at the same time, another thought started to creep into my subconscious. Why stop at Bicester? If I can get there, then it's only another 60 miles home and I'm guaranteed to stay dry! 200 Miles in a day? Definitely achievable, but at the same time I'm not really equipped for it. "For a starters I've got a bike load of camping equipment weighing me down and the light's I've got with me aren't the best, I'm not even sure if the batteries are charged up". What ever I'm doing, there's no point in sitting at Daventry. So, by 20:00 I was on my way to Bicester, safe in the knowledge that I had to be there before 23:00 (when Tesco closes) or it was going to be a hungry and thirsty night. For a change, the God of weather must have been feeling sorry for me today though, and as I pulled out of Daventry, so I picked up that most blessed of all the weathers, a tail wind. Oh yeah, free wind assistance, it might not have made much of a difference physically, but mentally, it's a real game changer! As the miles continued to click by, so the shadows started to lengthen as the day drew inevitably to a close and by 21:30 it was dark enough to start thinking about turning on some lights. Flicking on the front light, I was met with the reassuring glow, as the pool of bright white light lit up the road ahead and reflected back off onto the verge. 20 minutes down the road, I got the answer to how well charged those batteries were as I was plunged back into the semi darkness! Pulling into a handily placed field gate, I rolled to a stop and with thoughts of "that's the end of that idea" running through my head, dismounted and lent the bike against the gate. What now? I suppose the only options going to be find somewhere to bed down until it gets light, then push on when it's safe and I can see where I'm going again. "Or is it"? I wonder if my head torch is bright enough to ride with on it's own? It's fine for running with, so just maybe, that's not the end of my day? A quick rummage through the panniers produced said torch and casting it around the light looked bright enough to be worth a try. If nothing else it would enable me to get far enough to find a better place to spend the night. The only problem now was how to mount it. Being a head torch it wouldn't fit with my bike helmet on, so I was going to have to come up with another idea. Another quick rummage through the panniers revealed that I'd taken out the roll of tape and cable ties, which would have been ideal in this situation, last week, and only yielded a couple of elastic bands and an old Mars Bar. Not a ideal solution to the problem. That bit of old bailer twine tied to the gate post might solve the problem though! By looping the head band around my GPS mount and tying the battery pack to the handlebars with a bit of twine, I was back in the game. I'd not got any great hopes of this little lot staying on for long though! When you consider that our road surfaces easily shake purpose made mounts, nuts and bolts and most of my fillings lose in a matter of minutes, I wasn't going to hold my breath on a bit of bodging! Tentatively setting off, my little bodge appeared to work quite well, with the light plenty bright enough to see by, provided I didn't go too fast (which by this time wasn't likely), and by some miracle appeared to be perfectly aligned with the road in front and at the right height. With thoughts of "Lets see how long it is before this falls off, or the batteries run out" ringing through my head, I was back on the road. Just after 10:00 and ahead of my new schedule, I rolled into Bicester, grabbed some water and a doughnut (healthy living at it's best) and pushed straight on, heading for Wheatley and the promise to myself to stop for a brew. I knew from previous outings that there's a handy secluded spot, with a nice bench, just outside Wheatley so if I could get there I'd have more options than being stuck in the middle of Bicester. An hour later and I've got a brew on the go, first one since setting off and the perfect accompaniment to that doughnut I picked up earlier. If only the sky had been clear this would have been an idyllic stop. As it was, it was pretty good, still warm enough for shorts and a cycling top, brew, doughnut and all encompassing darkness, with not a sound or person to be heard. What's not to like about that? Next stop Pangbourne? If I break this last bit down into manageable chunks, with the promise to myself of a brew by the River Thames, it should be a bit easier and that's only a 25 mile leg. With my bodged light showing the way and lightning splitting the sky to the South I was making good progress. South of Wheatley, the terrain gets a bit more rolling, as you skirt the edge of the Chiltern Hills en route to the Thames crossing. Nothing too taxing though, climb steadily up the North side than roll back down the South, easy enough, even on tired legs. Easy that is, until I nearly came a cropper on a downhill bit. Lack of concentration due to tiredness? Slippery gravel? Puncture? Nope, Badger, and a moment of who's going which way and who's going to stop first. I saw him reflected back in my lights by the side of the road, just as he saw me. Startled by my presence, instead of diving for the hedge, he decided to aim for the other side of the road. He went left, I went right, then he changed his mind, so I went the other way, whilst grabbing for the brakes and thinking "I don't really want to stop or fall off now, what if he gets me". Right, left, right again, by the time I'd almost stopped, he'd made it to the undergrowth and was gone, leaving me to regain my composure and continue peacefully on my way. "What if he gets me"! What's that all about? It's a badger not a werewolf and I'm sure he's more frightened of me that I was of him. It's strange what goes through your mind in the middle of the night, when your faced with the unexpected though. A careful descent into Pangbourne saw me safely to my next promised stop and with the kettle on again I had choices to make. Run the last few miles down my planned route, or take advantage of the deserted roads and use the A340 and A4. It's pretty much the same distance, but cuts out some serious climbing and whilst I'd avoid the A340 during the day, it's not actually that bad a stretch of road and at this time of night, I'd be lucky to see a single car. Well, that was an easy decision to make, A340 it is, flat, fast, direct and badger free, perfect, and taking me well into home territory. A few spots of rain joined the now, ever present, flashes of lightning on the road between Silchester and Bramley. Not enough to worry about and this close to home, certainly not enough to consider stopping or getting my jacket out for though. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the miles to go, became meters, and as the clock approached 04:00, (just under 19 hours since setting off) I rolled to a stop for the final time. Creeping back into the house in an attempt not to wake "The Emma" I reflected back on the days achievements. 197 miles in 18 hours and 40 minutes isn't too shabby. More so when you consider that I set off planning on stopping, so was carrying my bivvy kit, sleeping bag, brew kit and all the other assorted sundries you need for a night out. None of which weighs a lot, but lugging it for nearly 200 miles soon starts to tell it's toll. Most importantly though, I was still feeling pretty good and whilst tired, could quite happily have carried on. Maybe next time I'll ensure that I've got some proper lights with me and not lug a load of heavy camping kit around for no reason. But where would be the fun in that? And at least this way I was prepared for any eventuality, (expect suicidal badgers). Oh, and I guess we will never know how wet I would have got if I'd gone with plan A and stayed out. Because I didn't get wet at all and whilst we had some rain at home Saturday morning, it wasn't torrential and I certainly wasn't going to nip back up to Oxford just to find out! In other unrelated news, as I pulled up at home in the early hours of Saturday morning and crept silently through the back gate, I was greeted by the most beautiful scent of flowers. The sun over the previous week had obviously done it's magic and more surprisingly, nothing seemed to have suffered from a lack of water during the hot spell.
It's now that all those days of graft back in the winter during Project Patio, all the frustrations and fiddling around growing plants from seeds, all the watering, weeding and battling slugs and snails pay off though. And to be honest, there's no where else I'd rather be than sat in the garden with a brew in my hand, the scent of the lilies filling my nostrils, the bees busily collecting pollen and that deep seated feeling of satisfaction of a job well done!
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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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