I’ve said it before and I’ll no doubt say it again, but what a difference a day makes, or in the case of this weekend’s adventures, what a difference a few hours makes!
Friday evening saw me in the van travelling up to Stevenage ready for Saturday’s Audaxing fun, which wasn’t much fun I can tell you. With the outside temperature gauge showing 30 degrees as I crawled around the M25 in the normal traffic congestion (oh to be on my bike) it was a touch on the warm side! Things improved with a couple of hours sat watching the sun going down with a cold beer. But a stuffy, sweaty, night in the van, where even with the roof vent fully open it was still uncomfortably warm, wasn’t the best start to what was going to be a long day out. By Saturday morning things hadn’t really cooled down, and the thunderstorms and heavy rain that I’d been watching on the weather forecast for most of the week seemed like an unlikely outcome. Was this going to be the day when the forecasters got it really wrong, or did they know something that I didn’t? By the time 09:00 arrived and I’d wandered down to the start point for the Jelly Fish Legs 400km Audax, having had a leisurely breakfast and an extra brew sat outside the van enjoying the summer, it looked like it was going to be another scorcher. In fact, if it wasn’t for the fact that I’d rather be over prepared than underprepared and I’m currently making final adjustments to my kit list ready for a real adventure in a few months’ time, I might have thought twice about packing my waterproofs and Down jacket. Surely, I wasn’t going to need those, it was only 09:00 and it must have been in the high 20’s already, what sort of an idiot lugs a Down jacket round with them for 400km in the middle of a heat wave? Looking around my fellow riders at the start, it looked like the majority had gone for the stripped down, lightweight approach, possibly making me the odd man out, with my bulky saddle bag packed with extra layers, hats and gloves. Oh well, if nothing else it will give the old legs a bit of a workout, and if the weather forecast is right, who will be laughing then?
Departing Stevenage old town on the stoke of 09:00 we were immediately out into open, rolling (read lumpy) countryside, heading West, traveling through pretty country villages, rolling along quiet county lanes, as the world sat stifling in the hot, humid air, and we in turn sweated up the hills and enjoyed the cooling breeze on the downhill sections.
Strangely, by the time I arrived at Aldbury for the first control a couple of hours later, the temperature had dropped a few degrees, the sky clouded over, and the wind had started to pick up. Not enough to cause any concerns, but enough for me to pull the sleeves back down on my thin cycling top and a short while later stop again, to put on my thin summer gilet. As I worked my way steadily westwards the skies continued to darken and the wind, now blowing strongly in my face, continued to strengthen. By 11:00, only 3 short hours after setting off in near tropical temperatures, I felt the first spots of rain landing on my face, followed immediately by that evocative smell of rain on hot tarmac, as the first fat drops landed heavily on the road around me. Almost immediately, those first spots became a downpour and I hastily found a convenient spot to stop and pull my waterproof jacket from my saddlebag, fighting against my cycling mitts which seemed to fat to fit through the sleeves and the wind that appeared determined to stop me finding the other sleeve, whilst the rain did it’s best to soak into my top. Jacket donned and the first battle of the day won, I pushed on. Arriving at the second control just as the rain abated, where I briefly considered taking my jacket back off whilst I gathered the information required as proof of passage.
Having decided it was too much hassle getting my gloves back off again to remove my jacket, I pushed on for the long leg across the Cotswolds, bound for Stow-on-the-Wold, via yet more undulations.
A couple more, brief showers and a far longer, heavier, bout of rain, just before Stow, did little to dampen my spirits and I arrived somewhat damp, but still enjoying myself a couple of hours later. A brief chat with a fellow rider, whilst stood outside a supermarket in Stow-on-the-Wold stuffing my face with yet more of the ubiquitous supermarket sandwiches, proved that maybe my preparations for the day had been better than some. Not only was he cold and wet but had also lost the mount for his new front light, which would no doubt cause him problems in the hours to come, and we stood chatting for a few minutes whilst he investigated options for getting back home from what was possibly the furthest point away of the entire route. That to me is one of the joys of Audax. You’re on your own, and its solely up to you to traverse the route, or if you fail to do so, get yourself back home again. No rescue parties, no back up vehicles and no help, apart from what you can gather on the road. Obviously, I’d always help someone in distress or with problems if I could and would likewise hope that that would be a mutual situation but would never count or rely on it. It’s just you against the terrain, weather, roads and route, and good preparation is key to making what can be an unpleasant situation far better.
Pushing on for the next checkpoint the rain was back with a vengeance, and the next few miles as I climbed steadily towards the highpoint at Winchcombe and traversed the highest, most exposed, parts of the route were as much a battle against the conditions as the leg sapping climbing. It’s a shame too as this is a lovely part of the country, with far reaching views out across the Vale of Evesham and the flatter ground to the North, none of which could be seen today. Just sheets of rain to keep me company and the rivers running down the roads to avoid as I steadily made my way upwards and then turned, bringing the rain out of my face for the first time, to start heading back East (via a bit of a detour Northwards).
Apart from a brief interlude, during which I stopped to put on my leg warmers and wring my socks out, I think it rained steadily for the next few hours and I finally arrived at Towcester services, sodden, cold, and not quite as happy as I had been when I set off, just as darkness started to descend. A few brief words with the rider just in front of me who was getting ready to set off again, confirmed that it looked like the rain was set to stay for another few hours yet, and as he set off back into the growing darkness, I slunk into the services to grab some food and sort myself out ready for the night section. Trying to look inconspicuous whilst you slip off your shoes, tip the water out of them, and put on dry socks, adding some plastic bags in the process, in the hope that your feet may stay dry for a while (and even if they don’t the bags make a massive difference to how warm your toes stay) isn’t easy. But if I’m honest I don’t think that the little bit of water from my shoes made much of a difference to the puddle that was slowly spreading around me as dirty rainwater and road grime dripped from every orifice, but did make a massive difference to how my feet felt and almost certainly helped with getting through the night! Fed, watered and resupplied, the rain continued to teem down outside the windows and darkness had by now fully engulfed the roads. There were only 2 choices though, sit here all night, or get back outside and carry on. Donning my Down jacket (glad I bought it now), hat, and refitting my waterproof jacket with the hood pulled right up, I ventured back outside, pausing briefly to confirm to a coach party on their way back from some event or another, all dressed in their finery, that, yes, I was going back outside on my bike, and that yes, they had heard correctly, and I did say I had another 100 miles still to go! As I emerged back into the darkness and the rain hit me again, so did the drop in temperature and within seconds my teeth were chattering and my fingers numb, despite the extra layers and waterproofs. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ As I headed out of Towcester, I was just in time to catch a supermarket before it closed for the night and in a moment of clear thinking, I dived in and grabbed a pair of washing up gloves. Despite the strange looks from the cashier, as I stood dripping, shivering, and struggling to get my card out with wet, numb fingers, this was a genius move on my part. Dry and warm hands for the first time in hours made a massive difference to both my morale and body temperature, and I suspect made the difference between me getting through the night and giving up. Bright yellow washing up gloves tucked into the sleeves of my jacket, hood snugged down under my helmet, with a hat beneath that, Down jacket kept dry by my waterproof jacket, 2 base layers, leg warmers, and with temporarily dry socks, protected by my newly fitted plastic bags, I was as well prepared for whatever else the weather threw at me as I could be, and as I set off again, soon warmed up to a more comfortable level. Considering it is mid-June and Friday was 30 degrees, I was now wearing far more than I would on the average January day and despite working as hard as I could, with tired legs and a long day already behind me, I was still only just managing to maintain my body temperature. Thank god, I’d packed a full set of kit and not scrimped despite the hot start to the day, or I’d have been in real trouble!
By the time I reached Market Harborough the rain had finally stopped, and as I departed, heading for the final control point at St Neots the skies slowly started clearing behind me, bringing with them a further temperature drop and a clear, star laden, sky.
Slowly progressing through the night, by 03:00 the very first signs of the approaching day started to change the colour of the eastern sky. First just the hint of a colour change, almost imperceptible from the glow from the towns and cities off on the skyline. But then a slow, but definite shift from black to grey, followed by a slight blue tint creeping into the sky. Eventually trees and buildings on the horizon started to become visible, growing from the darkness, as day slowly drove the night away and the world around me expanded back out from the small circle of light created by my lights, into the full panoramic view. Bringing with it a return of birdsong, as the birds in turn heralded the return of another day, and a feeling of relief as the sun slowly rose and started to warm the cold dawn air. ------------------------------------------------------ Arriving in St Neots just after 04:00, bar staff were just sweeping away the detritus from another night’s partying, and the police were busy dealing with the few remaining stragglers who feel their night isn’t complete without a fight or some destruction. Pondering how different my night had been to theirs, I pushed on for the final leg, tiredness now starting to rapidly catch up with me as my brain suddenly realised that I hadn’t slept since yesterday and had been on the bike for coming up for 20 hours. Eventually, as the sun grew bigger in the sky, I could overcome the tiredness in my eyes no longer and was starting to realise that if I didn’t do something about it soon, I was going to fall asleep on my bike and end up in a ditch. Spotting a handy field gate, I pulled up and leaning my bike against the gate, I in turn sat leaning against it, feeling the sun on my face and closing my eyes for the first time since Saturday morning. Seconds, or maybe minutes later, I woke with a start, still sat with my back resting on my bike, with the sun still shining on my face, but feeling a million times better. I can only have been asleep for 5- or ten-minutes tops but felt a million times better. The overwhelming tiredness was gone, and I wearily pulled myself back to my feet, treated myself to the last cookie that I’d be saving for just this occasion and pushed on, heading steadily back towards Stevenage and the finish. ------------------------------------------------------------------- By 06:30 I was back on the outskirts of Stevenage and minutes later rolled wearily to a stop, back at the same place I had started from 22 ½ hours before, to be greeted cheerily by the welcoming committee, (one man, hiding under a tree). 259 miles, 22.5 hours, hills, views, rain, too hot, too cold, pretty countryside villages, Owls in the night, quiet country lanes, busy towns wrapping up after a night’s partying, coach parties, clear skies, daybreak, an Ostrich in someone’s garden at dawn (or did I imagine that?) and did I mention rain? I’ll happily admit that this was a hard one, in some testing conditions. I’m not sure how many started, I’d be guessing at 20, but only 9 of us completed the route within the timeframe. If we’re generous and say that half the starters finished, all of whom would be experienced and competent long distance Randonneurs it gives a pretty good indication of how tough the night was.
If nothing else this was a good test of my kit choices and I feel everything proved it’s value, some many times over. My waterproof jacket was actually bought for running, and despite being stupidly expensive, kept me dry throughout the entire time. Likewise, my Down jacket kept me warm enough once the temperature dropped. Wet feet go with the territory, but the old plastic bag trick did the job admirably. Likewise, that cheap pair of washing up gloves proved a saving grace, keeping my hands warm and dry through the coldest, wettest hours.
My old-fashioned saddlebag effortlessly swallowed all that kit when it wasn’t required. With plenty of room to spare for extra rations and chocolate bars. Which helped maintain my morale and keep my energy levels up when all the shops were closed overnight and more surprisingly kept everything dry and easily accessible. Most importantly, I still had a lightweight sleeping bag and waterproof bivvy bag in reserve, strapped securely to my handlebars, taking up no space, and adding little weight, but providing the ultimate insurance policy if required. Yes, I’d agree that it wouldn’t have been a pleasant night out if I had stopped, but I could have found somewhere dryish, stripped off my wet layers and got into a warm and dry sleeping bag and survived the night with no problems. Good, sensible, kit choices, can, and do, make a massive difference to any event and are often the difference between enjoying a day out and suffering through it, and I can honestly say that despite the conditions I still had a good day out. I’ll grant you there were a few moments when I thought “what the hell am I doing here” but they were few and far between, and occur on any long ride. Likewise, the sense of satisfaction and achievement in completing any epic undertaking, especially when it’s that grim, is immeasurable, as is the knowledge gained from getting through a difficult night unscathed and still coming out the other side with a smile on your face. So, will I do another 400 or has this experience scared me off for life, and would I do anything different next time. Well, that’s a pretty easy one to answer, with a “hell yes” and a “certainly not”. Roll on the next one is all I can say!
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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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