I’ve just had a look at the spreadsheet, which I use to keep track of my running and cycling miles, and for Saturday 11th March 2023 it just says “The Dean 2023 – Brutal”. Which is an unusually short entry, but a fairly descriptive one in not too many words. That one word, tells me that it was a hard day out, probably with some inclement weather thrown in for good measure, and the word “Brutal” makes me wonder why I would ever think that putting myself through the same again would be a good idea? A question I asked myself on more than one occasion this Saturday! I’m sure that you can guess from that last paragraph, that Saturday was the 2024 edition of The Dean. A cheeky 300Km jaunt through some of the most picturesque scenery that southern England has to offer, and as we all know, picturesque normally means hilly! Starting from, and finishing at, an almost deserted car park on the outskirts of Oxford. It’s a long old loop (Just over 300Km to be precise, which is 195 miles for the imperial reader) taking in the Cotswolds, The Forest of Dean and the Severn Bridge, before heading back home via two white horses, Malmesbury, Marlborough and the luxurious Membury services on the M4, to end up back at that deserted car park. Even by Audax standards this is a “bare bones” event. There are no organised controls, no pampering, no rescue service and no one to hold your hand. It’s a cheery wave off from the start, and a stick your completed Brevet card in the box when you get back, type of event. Obviously in the 365 days between swearing that I’d never even think about taking on The Dean again, and entries opening for this year’s event, I’d completely forgotten that I was never putting myself through that again, and signed up. In fact, I was even looking forward to it! I did have a touch of second thoughts in the week. When looking at the weather forecast mid-week it looked remarkably similar to last year and the memories of being alternatively frozen, soaked, blown dry, soaked again, and almost frozen solid again, came flooding back. But, as the minus 6 bit seemed to be missing from this years forecast, I remembered that I was supposed to be a tough endurance athlete, (or something like that) and had better get on with it. Besides, if I pulled out due to the chance of a bit of inclement weather then A) It would obviously be the hottest, driest, nicest, March day ever, and B) What else was I going to do on Saturday (Don’t answer that, and yes I know that the grass needs cutting, the windows need cleaning, there’s an MX5 in bits in the garage, and it’s “The Emma’s” birthday tomorrow). Which is why I found myself dragging myself out of bed at 04:30 on Saturday morning, ready to be stood in a cold, damp car park, for an 06:00 start. Heading out of Oxford in the dawn light, with the birds singing, fellow cyclists all around, and the prospects of a good day in front of me, I wondered what all the fuss had been about last year. With the rolling countryside passing silently beneath my wheels, the breeze on my back, pretty Cotswold villages, their inhabitants still slumbering peacefully, to occupy my mind, and fresh legs, the early miles passed quickly and easily. The first control at Stow-on-the-Wold came and went without fanfare, and despite the long, dragging climbs through the Cotswolds towards Winchcombe slowing progress slightly, and necessitating a removal of layers, the flatter land towards Newent facilitated faster progress and I was at the second control at Newent before 10:30 with the first 100Km done. A quick sandwich stop at Newent and onwards, next stop Chepstow, but not before the small matter of the long, steep climbs up through The Forest of Dean. There’s no doubt about the fact that The Forest of Dean is a beautiful part of the country, with some stunning scenery, great places to visit and an all round mecca for anyone with a love of the outdoors. There is also no doubt about the fact that it’s bloody hilly. In fact, I don’t think that there is a single flat part in the entire area, and I’m pretty certain that it’s almost all uphill! Climb after leg sapping climb, lead up quiet county lanes, though heavily wooded hillsides. Birdsong and the sound of cascading water tried valiantly to drown out the panting as I pushed up another steep ascent. Lambs frolicked in roadside fields providing distraction as my heart tried to leap from my ribcage as the road continued steeply, endlessly, upwards. Eventually though, the scenery changed, and the view opened up to reveal the Seven estuary in all it’s majesty, the river, wide, dirty brown and fast flowing heading to same way as I was, towards the sea and the Severn Bridge. The descent into Chepstow was fast and over far too quickly, the climb back out the other side not so much, and the head wind, which was blowing strongly across the Severn Bridge was decidedly unwelcome, even more so as it was going to be my companion for the next 90 miles! Learning from last years mistakes, where I pushed on eagerly towards Malmesbury, and paid for it later. I took the opportunity to grab a burger from the Severn view services which are now eerily quiet since most of the traffic takes the newer bridge, and sat in the weak, early spring, sunshine, sheltered from the wind, enjoying a few minutes off the bike and watching the world go by. My memories from last year were of the leg between Chepstow and Marlborough being tough, and this year didn’t disappoint. Having turned into the wind at Chepstow, it looked like 90+ miles into a headwind was on the cards. Not the most attractive way to spend a Saturday afternoon, and it’s surprising how much harder pushing into the wind makes things. There’s not much you can do about it though, other than get your head down, try and distract your mind from the seemingly impossible task ahead, and get on with it. The miles came slowly through the afternoon. The traffic seemed heavier and less cooperative than in the morning, the hills, when they came, more uphill and harder, and the road surfaces worse. Tired legs played a part, the headwind wore me down, and as the time in the saddle grew longer so keeping the thoughts of stopping from my mind became harder. Eventually though Malmesbury arrived and with it the chance for a brief stop, and more importantly the chance discovery of Waitrose lemon and white chocolate hot cross buns. Man, if your ever in need of a treat, or a pick me up, these are the things to go for. Sweet, chocolatey, lemony, carb loaded goodness, oh yes! Pushing on, refreshed and revitalised (right), the wind was still a nuisance, and it’s a long uphill slog out of Malmesbury, but reinforced with hot cross bun goodness, my legs eventually dragged me to the top. There’s a couple of steep climbs between Malmesbury and Marlborough and I’m not going to pretend that I even considered expending the extra energy required to ride up them, instead opting for the opportunity to stretch tired leg and back muscles, by dismounting and pushing up. Sometimes that’s all that’s needed, a few minutes off the bike, a stretch of the leg muscles and a change of position and your good to go again, and that’s exactly what happened Saturday. By the time I got to Marlborough it was getting dark and I spent a few minutes sorting my life out, putting my head torch on, changing batteries and generally preparing for the dark. But, by the time I got going again a few minutes later, everything seemed better. The wind had died away with the arrival of the dark, those couple of minutes off the bike and the earlier walk up the steepest hills had worked wonders for my tired muscles, and the familiar road between Marlborough and the next planned stop at Membury seemed to help with a much needed injection of pace. The miles to Membury came easily. The road flowed beneath my wheels in the dark, the traffic had died away as everyone ran for home in case the bogey man got them in the dark, and the pool of light, which guided my way, held a comfort, restricting my vision to the meters in front, and focusing my attention to the road ahead. The tall mast with it’s evenly spaced red anti-collision marker lights, familiar from a thousand trips down the M4 to see “The Boy”, acted like a beacon from miles away, drawing me slowly closer to Membury, where the garage forecourt provided a proof of passage receipt, a bag of salty crisps and a few minutes of leg stretching, whilst the normal, car bound clientele, looked on at the strange cyclist magically transported into the midst of their world. Leaving Membury, there were just 30 short miles to go. The days back had been broken. The mornings climbs, and the afternoon headwinds, fast rescinding memories, as I pushed on towards Oxford and days end in the dark. A lack of concentration meant a missed turn in the dark, and an extra half mile added to the days total, before I realised that I was off track. A brief rain shower, reminded me how lucky we had been with the days weather, and the fast-flowing descent following the last of the days real climbs to bring us back over the Ridgeway and into Lambourn, left me with a glowing smile on my face, and the joy of feeling the wind in my hair, wind not caused this time by a headwind blowing in my face. As the clock swung though 22:30 and 16 hours and 30 minutes after setting off, I rolled back to a stop for the final time in the non-descript car park that I had left so many hours, and so many miles before. Tired, stiff, sore, but happy, with the relief and satisfaction, that, that, was the day done! And what a day it had been. I’m not afraid to admit, that this was another tough one. It would appear that my recollections from last year were spot on. It’s a long, hard, hilly day out. But with great effort comes great reward and sitting here a couple of days later I can only reflect on what a great day out it had been. I said to “The Emma” when I got home Sunday morning with stiff legs, aching muscles and a sore backside from my time in the saddle, that “I’m not doing that again, it’s brutal”. But, I said that last year too, and if I’m honest, they’re hollow words. Because sat here today typing this, I’m already thinking about next years “Dean”. Because, yes, it’s a tough day out, but it’s a brilliant ride through some lovely countryside, and at the end of the day, it’s never going to be as tough as it was in 2023 when it started at minus 6 and rained for most of the evening, and if I can survive that and come out the other side smiling, then I can survive anything! And anyway, what else would I be doing on a Saturday in early March? In other news, and you’ll no doubt be pleased to know that there isn’t much, I got some more seeds sown at the start of the week. So that’s 3 types of Tomatoes, 3 types of Chilli, normal Peppers, and a selection of flower seeds, all sat on the windowsills at home ready join the bits that I sowed in the greenhouse last weekend, once they’ve germinated, which moves us a bit further towards Spring in my eyes. I also note that the Pear tree in the front garden looks like it will have it’s first leaves in the very near future (which is about all that it ever has, as it’s never borne fruit) and the Apple, Plum and Cherry trees have some lovely looking buds on them too. That, and the fact that the hedgerows are just starting to turn green, the big willow tree that I pass on my run in to work is just coming into leaf, the farmers are busy preparing the soil ready for this year’s crops, and the little hedgerow birds all seem very busy, all continue to give me hope that the worst days of winter are almost behind us and things are soon going to start improving. And finally, I’ve never bothered to get a picture of this before, but it’s amazing how much bike chains stretch. Both of the chains in this picture start at the same point and are stretched out along the garden wall.
The one on the left has done a couple of thousand miles, whilst the one on the right is new. There’s probably a bit of life left in the worn one yet, but the last thing you want when your 100 miles from home is a chain failure, or for it to keep slipping out of gear, so it’s time for a new one!
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
|