You’ll have to excuse the lack of pictures in the post below and the fact that it changes tense a few times. But as you’ll see if you're brave enough to plough through my mountain of drivel, this post covers multiple days, some of which was written at the time and some of which has been caught up later, and all of which seems to have one single theme running through it (rain).
Wednesday 28th December 2022.
Here we go then, we’ve not had any real stupidity for a couple of months so it’s about time I rectified that. And what better way to rectify things than with a bit of long distance winter cycling. The problem comes with the definition of long distance, and I suspect that my definition may be different to that of the everyday man in the street. I mean, what is a long way to go by bicycle? 20 Miles? To many people that's probably unimaginable, but in my book that's a running distance. It might be further than many people ever venture from home, but as far as I’m concerned it’s not even worth getting your bike dirty for. 50 Miles than? Well, we're getting closer now. That is worth getting your bike out for, but it’s still only 4 or 5 hours of easy riding. Granted we're now into the sort of distances that most people consider a long way to go in the car, but it’s not actually all that far is it? In fact, as far as I’m concerned we are not into long distances until you start to get above 100 miles. 200 miles in a single day is achievable if you're fit enough and in the right frame of mind, and grouping together multiple days of 100+ can take you quite a long way in a short time too. So we need to be going over 100 miles, and we need to make it worthwhile. And to that end I just happened to spy the Full Fat Festive 500 Audax, when I was casting around for something to fill my time between Christmas and the New Year. 500 Km with an Audax time limit of 35 Hours, yes that’ll do nicely, and it sounds like a bit more of a challenge than the original Rapha idea, which was to just cover 500 Km in the 8 days between Christmas and New year. 8 days or 35 hours? Sign me up! The only problem is I was running on the 27th and the cycling fun didn’t start until the 29th, that left me with a whole day with nothing to do. I suppose I could have just stayed at home and watched TV, or heaven forbid, joined the rest of the country in Costa, or wherever they go when I’m doing other stuff. Or, I could make better use of my time by getting out in the fresh air and cycling to the start (in Bristol). A quick search for cheap rooms threw up a Travelodge in Bristol for the 28th and 30th for less than the cost of a meal out, so that was that sorted. Home to Bristol on the 28th (80 miles). Full Fat Festive 500 Audax (Bristol, Cambridge, Northampton, Tewkesbury and back to Bristol) on the 29th and 30th (310 miles). Bristol to back home on the 31st (another 80 miles). How About that for a little post Christmas adventure then? I ran my little idea past ‘The Emma’, who in typical fashion just shook her head and rolled her eyes, and highlighted that my legs might be a little bit stiff on the 28th having run an Ultra Marathon the day before. I’d actually considered, and then instantly ignored this little possibility as a minor issue (I’m pretty sure that your legs are supposed to hurt most of the time) so she did little to discourage my brilliant idea. Having been married for something approaching a million years, I’ve learned that the shake of the head is as close as you get to approval, so I booked everything and wrote it on the calendar, which makes it official, and then sat back to await the glorious sunshine which was sure to accompany such an audacious midwinter adventure.
Ah, yes, about that glorious sunshine. It would appear that something got lost in my memo to the weather Gods. As, not only was ‘The Emmas’ prediction that my legs might be a bit stiff the morning after my running fun correct. But, additionally, when I dragged myself out of bed on the 28th it was not only lashing it down, but blowing a hooley too. Neither of which are a show stopper on their own, but when the wind’s going to be in your face all the way to Bristol and it’s jet propelling the rain in your face too, it’s not ideal.
‘The Emma’, being far more sensible than me, looked somewhat surprised when I came downstairs in my cycling kit, and said something along the lines of ‘are you nuts? I assumed you’d be taking the van instead’. A thought which hadn’t even crossed my mind, this was a cycling adventure not a driving one! As far as I was concerned, I’d just be getting wet! Suitably attired, with plastic bags on my feet (between socks and boots) in an attempt to at least stay warm if not dry, and washing up gloves under my normal cycling gloves, which are about the only thing I've ever found to keep your hands dry, I was on the road by 09:30, Bristol bound. Now, having waffled on for far too long about nothing, you're all going to be really disappointed, because there's not really much to say about my trip to Bristol. Except it was very wet and very windy, and for about 10 minutes of the 6 and a half hours it took me to slog my way though 80 miles into the wind, I wondered what the hell I was doing! Yes that’s right, it rained, I got really wet, and I slogged into the wind for far too long. But I had a brilliant time. I saw a grand total of 1 other cyclist (in Bristol), 3 runners and a couple of horse riders. I got a cheery wave from a lady pushing a wheelbarrow across a farmyard in the rain. I said hello to a couple of dog walkers, all of whom were as wet as I was. I ate a soggy sandwich in the rain in Hungerford and got my boots full of water riding through a flood between Marlborough and somewhere else, but I had a great time! There’s something special about taking on the weather and winning. Everyone’s tucked up at home, leaving the roads traffic free, and there’s a shared community of fellow suffering between the people that are out and about that you just don’t get on normal days. The lady with the wheelbarrow is a prime example. Would she have waived if it wasn’t raining and blowing a gale? I doubt it. But she did, and it made my day. Luckily the forecast for Thursday is looking better, so hopefully we’ll have at least a few dry miles, and if the wind can manage to be in the same direction as today for the majority of the day and then do a full reversal once I get to Cambridge then that would be great. I’ll not hold my breath though. And on that note I’m going to leave this here for now as the alarm’s set for 04:00 and I’ve got a big day ahead tomorrow. We’ll pick back up once I get back to Bristol (hopefully on Friday), or if it all goes wrong, then whenever!
Thursday 30th Dec 2022
Well, that was a ride of two halves if ever there was one, all liberally smothered in a large serving of rain and strong winds for good measure! An early alarm call, even by my standards (04:00) on Thursday morning, gave me plenty of time for a good breakfast and the 5 mile ride down from my salubrious accommodation to the start, ready for an 06:00 departure. By the time I arrived to collect my brevet card there was already a smattering of other hardy riders milling around chatting and sipping pre ride brews, whilst waiting for the time to tick down and I’d hazard a guess and say that by the time we departed, our ranks had grown to around 30, which I don’t think is a bad turn out for such a stupid undertaking! Bang on 6 we were off, making our way through the deserted streets of Bristol as we headed for open countryside and the first destination of the day (Farringdon). It wasn’t long before I’d had to stop and take off a couple of layers, as despite the early hour it was surprisingly warm, a decision that I was soon to regret. Less than 10 minutes after de-layering the rain started. Gentle spots to start with, but soon growing in crescendo to a good hard downpour! There was no way that I was stopping again so soon, so I pushed on, Jacket firmly zippered, waterproof gloves under outer gloves and feet, within my allegedly waterproof winter boots, firmly encased in plastic bags in an attempt to delay the ingress of water. An hour later and the rain was still falling steadily and I was starting to get really chilly. There was no other option but to stop again or face getting really cold, as the wet rain sapped my body heat, and another stop ensued to put back on all the clothes that I’d discarded earlier! Handily, by the time I got to Faringdon, the rain had finally abated and stayed away for the rest of the day, which was nice. However, the damage was already done and my now wet feet were certainly starting to suffer from the cold. Proof of passage receipt obtained, gloves wrung out, pockets restocked with treats for the next leg and push on, next stop Winslow. Helpfully, minutes later, the route went straight through the middle of Oxford, and in an unusual moment of clear thinking I realised that I’d be going right past the big sports shop on the outskirts. One short diversion later and I was sitting in the car park changing my socks for fresh, warm, dry versions. New plastic bags between socks and boots stopped the wet boots soaking my new toasty socks and within 10 minutes I was back on my way, happy as Larry, with nice warm toes again. Result!
The leg up to Winslow pretty much set the scene for the rest of the day. Flat, scenic countryside, with a strong tail wind pushing us along from behind. In fact, there were plenty of occasions over the next few hours where I was easily holding 20 MPH on the flat with barely any effort, an unusual situation, and one that was bound to come back to haunt me later when we finally made the turn at Cambridge and that helpful tailwind became a headwind!
No point in worrying about that yet though, so I did what any sensible person would do and made hay whilst the sun shone, or more accurately, made good time whilst the wind helped. A quick lunch stop for a sandwich in Winslow, and then with nearly 100 miles already covered push on for Cambridge. It’s 150 miles from Bristol to Cambridge, and the fact that I was making my way through town before 17:00, less than 11 hours after leaving Bristol is testimony to the strength of that tailwind, and just goes to show how far you can get in one day on your bike! Cambridge was thronged with tourists and post Christmas shoppers (you’d have thought that they would have had enough by now), so I wasn’t hanging around. Next stop St Ives via the guided busway and its fantastic cycle path. Traffic free, clean, well surfaced, well lit, safe, direct and fast, this is sustainable travel infrastructure at its best and rolling along those miles from Cambridge to St Ives in the dark with only the occasional bus running on the adjacent track for company, was some of the best miles of the whole route. If only it wasn’t dark I’d have been able to see the surrounding wetlands. Oh, well, that’s reason enough for another visit at some point in the future. With the night now well upon us and clear skies, the temperature had rapidly dropped from it’s not very high daytime starting point, and I took the time at St Ives to don a few more clothes ready for the final stretch of the day to my pre-booked overnight accommodation (Travelodge again) at Northampton. A cheeky Kebab en route, provided tea and kept the hunger pangs at bay (I’ve said before it’s a glamorous life this Audax lark, supermarket sandwiches, chocolate bars from 24 hour garages, biscuits for breakfast and whatever else you can find from convenience stores as you make your way around the country, all eaten at the roadside like some sort of high class man of the road). Despite the turn into wind I made good time to Northampton, arriving just after 22:30, with 208 miles under my belt (plus 5 to the start). I don’t think that’s a bad day's work by any measure, and having checked in, replaced all the batteries in my lights and GPS, and refilled my water bottles etc in preparation for another early start, I treated myself to a hot chocolate before bed and turned in for the night. See, it's a glamorous life I lead!
Friday 30th December 2022.
3 and a half hours after closing my eyes the alarm jolted me back awake again at 03:00! I’m pretty sure that most of the population have a lay in when they’re on holiday, not get up even earlier, but where would the fun be in that? A quick brew, some instant porridge, and just before 04:00 I was back on the road again, next stop Tweksbury, 63 miles away, most of which was into wind. Wind, which had helpfully picked up considerably overnight. Strangely, Friday's weather started off somewhat reminiscent of Thursday’s. Within the first half hour of setting off I’d had to stop to remove some clothes, and again, just as the previous day, just after 06:00 the cold, heavy rain started again. Having learned from yesterday's mistakes, this time I was soon stopped putting all those layers back on again before I had a chance to get too cold! Unlike Thursday, when the wind was on our backs, today the wind was throwing that cold rain straight in my face for the next couple of hours. Not pleasant! And that wind, coupled with the rain, and not helped by the fact that it was still dark, made for some pretty hard miles to start the day, but those were nothing compared with what was to come! The rain fell steadily, my legs gave all they could, and slowly the miles to Tewskbury decreased. A warm cheese and bacon pastry and a chocolate croissant from a handy shop, which materialised through the rain like a shining beacon just as it got light, provided sustenance to keep on pushing, and eventually, just before 10:00 Tewksbury hove into view. No time to stop though, there’s still 45 miles to go, and the wind was really going to come into play now. The leg between Tweksbury and Bristol was open, exposed, and directly into the full force of that wind. Which by now was doing its best to blow me to a complete halt. Hunched over the handlebars, pushing as hard as my tired legs could sustain, I struggled to maintain a 10 MPH average speed for the day's efforts. At times as I slogged down the A38 after Glocester it was as much as I could do to keep moving forward. With your head down trying to be more aerodynamic all you can see is the road directly ahead and whatever's in your peripheral vision off to the sides, no views, no sightseeing, just slog. And to make matters worse, right in my line of vision, with nothing else to look at, is my handlebar computer showing the time and speed. My incredibly slow moving speed stares me in the face the entire time, along with the time of day! It’s 12:00, I keep struggling on and when I look back again it’s still 12:00. Stop looking! I look away for as long as I can without crashing, and when I look back again because there’s no other option, it's 12:01! Arrrggghhhh. And now it’s raining again! I don’t know if I can do this! OK, let's get to 12:15 then I’ll have a quick break. 12:15 eventually comes. Ok, let's make it 12:30 and then I’ll stop! And so it goes on. And slowly, ever so slowly, the miles tick down. Eventually though, having slogged endlessly down the A38, peddling hard on the downhill sections to make any progress, and grinding almost to a halt on more than one occasion on the uphill sections into the face of that horrific wind, I reach the turn off. Turning left I’m greeted with instant calm, as the trees at the side of the country lane provide some shelter and the turn brings the wind onto my side. Bliss! With the extra shelter so my speed picks up slightly, and with it my mood, as I once again start to make what feels like progress. Another 40 minutes of puddle and pothole dodging, down country lanes which Sat Nav has turned from rural back roads to commuting short cuts, takes me to the edge of Bristol and on to the end of the day's adventure. And what an adventure it had been. Rolling to a halt back at the start, that clock which had plagued those earlier miles said it was approaching 15:30. 11 and a half hours to cover those 110 miles from my overnight stay back to the start. Contrasting that to the previous day, where with the wind on my back I covered 150 miles in just over 10 hours gives you some idea of how much difference the wind makes! But I can't complain. As the saying says, “You reap what you sow” and if it was easy, every one would be doing it, not a select bunch of individuals who are willing to push themselves to the limit of their endurance to find out if they have what it takes to continue. And continue into the face of adversity I had, Pushing on when it seemed impossible, crawling slowly onwards into the teeth of the wind when every bone in my tired body said, “what are we doing this for?”. And what was I doing it for? Well, I suppose the answer to that is, because I can and because someone took the time and made the effort to organise this stupidity for me to pitch myself against!
Saturday 31st December 2022
After an early night all that remained between me and home was the small matter of another 80 miles of cycling. I had a cunning plan though. After a good night's sleep, catching up on what I’d missed the previous nights, I’d treat myself to a leisurely breakfast at the hotel (if you can call a Travelodge that) and then pootle gently home, taking my time and enjoying the scenery. And then I woke up, discovered it was dark and raining and going to get wetter, and remembered that the only clothes I had with me were the cycling clothes I’d been wearing for the previous 3 days, my winter cycling boots which were still soaking wet, and a spare set of base layers that I’d been lounging around my hotel room in, and even I’m not brave enough to put the general public through the ritual of sharing a dining room with someone that’s been wet and dirty for 3 days and is just wearing skin tight Lycra pants, which sort of put pay to the idea of a leisurely breakfast. Plan B was called for then, which entailed getting dressed, eating a scabby ham sandwich and half a packet of chocolate digestives which I dragged from the depths of my saddle bag and getting on the road ASAP in the hope that I’d miss the worst of the rain. Yeah, like that’ll work. As such, I was on the road again just before 07:00.
Leaving in the rain, I’d togged up with my waterproof jacket and trousers, plus an extra base layer, and therefore was stopped within 20 minutes removing clothes again, because as soon as I got moving I was too hot!
20 minutes later, I was stopped again, taking my waterproof trousers off, because the rain had stopped and I was still too hot! Another 20 minutes went by and I was stopped again, putting my waterproof trousers back on again, because it was raining again. And so my morning slowly progressed. Rain stops, it’s too hot so I stop to take my trousers off. Rain starts again, so I stop again to put them back on. And repeat endlessly, until approaching the climb up Hackpen hill to the ridgeway and Marlborough I finally had enough, and when it started drizzling again thought “sod this it’ll stop again in a minute, just keep going” So I did, and you guessed it, as I crested the summit of Hackpen hill to start the long fast descent towards Marlborough, the heavens opened. But I was rolling now and it’ll stop again in a minute, in fact the sky even looks bluer over there, just keep going. 20 minutes later I’m skirting the edge of Marlborough and heading for Hungerford, and it’s still throwing it down, but I’m wet now so there’s no point stopping now. Long gone is the idea of a leisurely ride home, it’s just a case of head down and get on with it. By the time I reach Hungerford it’s still lashing it down. The rain falls in sheets, filling the gutters and cascading down the roads like rivers. The cars throw up walls of spray as they cruise sedately past, and the ankle deep puddles which litter the roads fill my boots with fresh cold water as I struggle though. Surprisingly though, I’m still having fun. I stop in Hungerford and shelter under the railway bridge to get some much needed calories on board and struggle to get my waterproof trousers back on over my soaking wet legs just for the extra warmth they offer, it’s cold now I’ve stopped, and if I get too cold I’ll struggle to warm up again! I might be cold and wet, but I’ve still got a smile on my face as I hide under the bridge with water dripping from every orifice eating an iced bun whilst watching the gridlocked car drivers trying to get through town, beeping their horns in frustration at their lack of progress and getting wound up that it’s taking them an extra 2 minutes to get to their destinations! Rather you than me, my friends! I’ll take wet and having fun, over crawling through traffic any day thank you. I imagine though that they are having the same conversation with their loved ones, sitting in their warm dry cars. “Look at that fool out there, stood in the rain smiling like an idiot”! Pushing on the rain continued to fall heavily for the remainder of my trip home. It dripped from my helmet in a constant stream it droplets, the water thrown from the road surface by passing cars continued to combine with the rain from above, engulfing me in clouds of water, and the puddles continued to fill my boots in a never ending stream of cold water, but I continued to smile and make the most of my day out. The rain’s just grim, it’s the wind like I experienced on Friday which is just plain nasty, and I’d rather have wet than that any day! Typically, a couple of miles from home the rain finally abated, and as I sat on the doorstep at home, pouring water from my boots and wringing out my soaked socks and gloves, it was almost as if it had never happened. You did your best though God of weather, and you didn’t beat me this time. You threw rain at me on multiple occasions, you threw wind at me on multiple days, and you threw the long dark night at me. But, on this occasion I won, and won in style too! 4 days and 487 miles in the middle of winter, including 500 Km (317 miles) in 32.5 hours. Yes, I’ll take that as a win, and what a way to finish off an epic year of cycling! If 2022 ended like that, then roll on 2023 is all I can say!
Wednesday 28th - Home to Bristol - 80 miles
Thursday 29th - Bristol to Northampton (via Cambridge and St Ives) - 207 miles (plus 5 miles from hotel to start) Friday 30th - Northampton to Bristol (Via Tewkesbury) - 110 miles (plus 5 miles from finish to hotel) Saturday 31st - Bristol to Home - 80 miles
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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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