You’ll all be pleased to know that I’ve had a busy weekend so there’s lots to tell you about this week (like I ever have a quiet one). But before I do, I’m just going to “sing the joys of spring” for 2 seconds.
This last week we’ve had some lovely weather, the suns been shining, there’s been a full moon, the Daffodils are blooming, all the little birds have been singing their hearts out and it’s amazing how much more productive and invigorated I feel. That little bit of sun coupled with the lighter evenings and an absence of rain, makes all the difference. Gone are the days of commuting to work and back in the dark. Granted it’s still cold in the mornings but coming home with the sun on your face is a real joy.
Getting up and opening the curtains in the mornings to be greeted by daylight is so much better too. OK, the low sun shows up how dirty the windows are, but that’s a small price to pay for having your breakfast in natural light, and things are going to get even better when the clocks go forward next weekend, giving us an extra hour of daylight in the evenings too.
Roll on the Summer then, because if this is how I feel now, come the real warmer days and longer evenings there’s going to be no stopping me!
Right, annoying, feeling good, spring in my step, anti rant (whatever that’s called) over, let’s get onto the meat of this week’s adventures and fun.
Having expected a few “tired legs” issues after last weeks planned 75-mile running attempt, I didn’t actually have anything planned for this weekend. But, by midweek my legs didn’t feel too bad. Certainly not “running good” and my left Calf still feels a bit sore, but good enough for a bit of cycling, and what better way to celebrate the return of the sun, than with a long ride and a night out under the stars? A quick fiddle with the route planning software one lunchtime in the week, and I’d got myself a nice little 200-mile loop. Departing from work on Friday afternoon, I'd travel up to Evesham through the Cotswolds and come back home again via Cirencester, Royal Wootton Bassett and Marlborough. (cycle.travel works quite well as a route planner for a starter, as long as your wise to its preference for off road diversions).
With the weather forecast looking favourable for the weekend, I’d hunted around in the loft on Thursday evening, gathering up all the camping gear that’s not seen the light of day for a couple of months and packed the bike up, ready for a quick getaway from work on Friday afternoon.
A touch of clock watching and numerous furtive glances out of the office windows, as the cold and frosty morning gave way to a bright and beautiful day, saw the morning drag slowly towards lunchtime and as the clock approached midday, I made my excuses and was away. And a beautiful afternoon it was too. Within the first couple of miles, I’d stopped and ditched my jacket in favour of a thin fleece top, and the winter gloves and neck warmer soon went the same way.
Heading up towards Newbury, with the breeze on my back, the sun in my face, the hedgerows alive with the sound of birdsong and the numerous Daffodil laden sunny verges alongside my route I was in my element.
All great things can’t last forever though, and as I approached Newbury a moments inattention saw both wheels clatter through a pothole, followed almost immediately by that unbalanced feeling that indicates somethings gone awry. Suspecting that the impact might have snapped a spoke or buckled the wheel I stopped for a look and was relieved to find that, although the wheel was in fine fettle, the tyre sidewall had obviously been damaged in the impact and was now showing an ominous bulge. Not an ideal situation when you’re planning on another 180 miles, and certainly not something that I could live with! There are 2 choices in this sort of situation, you either slink back home, dejected and broken, or have a quick think, come up with a solution to the problem and fix it. And as giving up isn’t in my nature, it’s got to be option 2. Luckily, not being far from home I knew there was a bike shop in Newbury. So, let a bit of air out of the tyre to reduce the bulge a bit, followed by a quick look at the map, and with a slight diversion head that way. Obviously, beggars can’t be choosers and my tyre choices were somewhat limited, but from their meagre selection I managed to find a suitable replacement. A quick 20 minutes of fiddling in the sun in their car park (most of which was unloading all my stuff so I could get the wheel off and repacking again) and voila, I was back on my way again!
Steadily progressing through the afternoon, I stopped in the late afternoon sun on an ideally placed bench, just North of Faringdon for a brew and a biscuit. Sat in the sun with my brew I was reminded of how the world is a changing place, when the local farmer pulled out of the entrance opposite driving a large tele-handler and proceeded to place his rubbish bins in the bucket (saves wheeling them to the end of the drive I suppose).
Spotting me, sat quietly watching, he wandered over for a chat, enquiring where I was off to and where I’d come from and generally singing the praises of the local countryside which he was obviously a proud custodian of. But the thing that struck me most during our brief meeting, wasn’t the fact that I’d guess he was in his later years (70+) and was obviously fit as a fiddle. But that he was immaculately turned out in a clean boiler suit, fleece jacket and wearing a shirt and tie. He may have been driving a massive modern machine, and doing a hard, dirty, physical job, where he was unlikely to meet another person all day, but there was no slipping of the old standards as far as he was concerned, modern meets traditional, in the true sense of the word.
Sitting around chatting and drinking tea wasn’t going to get me to todays destination though and as the afternoon started drawing to a close, I pushed on, arriving in Moreton-in-Marsh just as the day trippers and visitors were leaving.
A portion of chips, sitting by the riverside as the day turned to night, satisfied my hunger for a while longer and provided an ideal opportunity to sort my kit out for the next leg, and after a slightly longer than planned stop I headed back out into the dark. Climbing out of Moreton-in-Marsh with the last vestiges of the setting sun colouring the sky on my left and the full moon rising on my right was a real treat. And on quiet roads, accompanied only by the moon and the stars, I pushed on for another hour or so, bringing the days total mileage up to 96 miles before spotting a likely spot for my nights bivvy and bringing the days efforts to a close.
With the sky’s clear, the moon full and bright, and an easterly wind picking up as the night went on, it was a cold, but brilliantly lit night. When on occasion I awoke to the sound of deer barking in the surrounding fields or the wind rustling the trees, you could see as clearly as day, in the light of the moon. And as the sun rose to push away the remaining darkness it was to reveal a clear blue sky.
Too cold to linger in the cool morning air, I’d had a brew and my morning porridge and was on the road, fuelled and ready for another day’s adventures by 06:30. A few uphill miles helped push the cold from my bones and the stiffness from my legs and as I crested the last hills before the descent onto flatter ground Broadway Tower stood out tall and proud against the clear blue sky, in the chilly east wind which was now blowing strongly across my path.
A long, chilly descent from the high points of the Cotswolds saw me rolling into Evesham for 07:30 just as the market traders were setting up their stalls for the day and the last few party goers staggered sleepily home.
Another few flat easy miles and then, coming back into the Cotswolds, a return to the real work of the day, with some serious climbing to get back up onto the high ground, climbing made significantly harder this time around by the strong, cold, headwind that was now trying to push me back the way I’d come.
I’ll happily admit that there were a few occasions during the day that saw my tired legs defeated, resulting in the ignominious push of shame up some of the steeper hills. On one occasion, stopping halfway up a particularly long and steep drag, I spotted a nice little spot slightly above the road and sat for a while with a brew, watching, unseen from my perch, as a number of other cyclists, out for the day on their lightweight machines struggled up the same incline. Maybe with the extra weight of the camping gear I was carrying my legs weren’t in as bad a shape as I’d thought!
Through the worst of the Cotswolds hills and after a brief sustenance stop, the last of the big climbs of the day over the Hackpen climb on the North Wessex Downs and back towards Marlborough. By now, approaching lunchtime, the wind had really picked up, and coming over the top for the descent to Marlborough I was nearly blown to a standstill. There’s a long, steep, straight, descent here, where the only limit to the speed you can normally hit is the “scaredy cat factor”. Today though, despite giving it all I’d got and pedalling hard, I couldn’t manage 15MPH against the wind! Tiring, demoralising and with 50 miles still to go, hard going!
Coming wearily into Marlborough I resupplied and the found a cosy little spot, sheltered from the wind, and sat with a brew, stuffing my face with hot cross buns whilst wondering if my legs had it in them to push home against the wind.
It’s either push on, or put the Hammock up and sit out the day waiting for the wind to hopefully drop overnight though. And as I’ve got other stuff to do tomorrow (the allotment calls) sitting it out’s not an option, so I push on, legs stinging from the effort, neck aching from constantly hunching over trying to make my frontal size as small as possible, mind just focused on covering the miles, suffering in silence! Eventually through, the miles do tick down, and I find myself in Kingsclere, just 15 miles left to push, no point stopping now. A quick choccy bar, whilst investigating an unusual pile of empty snail shells (I’m guessing that’s some bird’s dinner table) and on again, into the late afternoon sun.
Finally, arriving home at 17:30, 11 hours after setting off in the morning, I’m happy to admit that I was spent. The wind had done for me. 100 miles into a headwind isn’t fun. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that it’s “character building” but, my characters built enough already thank you!
Wind or not, it had been a great couple of days out through, I’d been to a few places that I’d never been to before, I’d stopped and admired churches, war memorials, rivers and houses a plenty. I’d taken in far off views and watched as butterflies and birds skipped around within hands reach. I’d slept under the stars and admired the moon in all its glory, and I’d been pushed to my limits by mother nature and overcome everything that she’d thrown at me. What more can I add to that, except to say, when can I go again?
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
|