Normally when I announce my latest plan, scheme or brilliant idea to ‘The Emma’ I get one of 2 responses. I either get a look of general confusion, pertaining to a lack of understanding (normally reserved for technical project type stuff which she’s not really interested in), or I get a raised eyebrow, which seems to mean ‘I think you're a bit of an idiot, but if you think that’s a good idea then you crack on’. Which is why the response to this week's brilliant idea came as a bit of a surprise.
Having finally got most of the feeling back in my fingers after last weekend's frosty escapades. Note, I said most there, as the tips on my big fingers and thumbs still feel a bit numb, although I’m sure the feeling will come back to them eventually. By Tuesday my thoughts had turned to this weekend, and I was looking around for stuff to occupy my time. As I mentioned last weekend, there’s not a lot going on at the moment on the running and cycling front. I guess all the sensible people are sitting at home staying warm and dry, so yet again, I was at a bit of a loose end. I really need to spend a few days cutting back the hedge on the allotment before the spring comes, but for some reason I’m struggling for motivation on that one at the moment, and I’ve got the stuff to change some brake lines and the rear shocks and springs on the van sat in the garage, but again the thought of laying on cold concrete under the van doesn’t exactly fill me with joy either! So, what was I going to do? Well, for a starter’s I thought about a cheeky overnight bivvy to get the years camping tally off to a start. Laying on the floor under the van for an hour, no thanks, a night out in the cold under the stars, that's a far better idea! I even got as far as thinking about where to go and planning a rough route, but then mid-week a new idea caught my imagination. One last look through the running and Audax calendars, revealed that I could go and do a multiple loop marathon along the Thames path, but as I’m not a lover of repeat loops along the same track that was always going to be a last-ditch option. Or, there was a 100Km Audax starting from Bristol. That would be alright and waste a Saturday, but it’s a long way to go just for a 100Km ride and doesn't really fit into my ethos of only trying to drive less than the distance of the event (i:e only traveling 100 miles maximum for a 200Km Audax). And then in a moment of sheer brilliance on my part I thought, why drive to Bristol, I’ll just go on my bike. I’ll ride down Friday afternoon after work, ride the 100K on Saturday and ride home again on Sunday. Brilliant, a 170-mile round trip by bike for a 65 mile Audax, what's not to like about that idea! So, Travelodge to the rescue again, and another value for money accommodation option in Bristol for 2 nights sorted. Audax booked, route planned and bike ready to go, all I had to do was let ‘The Emma’, who happened to be working nights, know my brilliant plan. Which takes us nicely back to the start of this week's post. Que, one text message to ‘The Emma’ in which I casually revealed my latest brilliant idea, to which I got the response ‘You do know that you're certifiable don't you? What sane person does that in January’! No raised eyebrow, no quizzical, confused look, just straight in there with ‘your bloody nuts’. Which just confirmed to me that it was indeed a brilliant idea!
My Friday morning at work passed at its normal glacial pace, and as soon as I was able, I made my excuses, wished my colleagues a pleasant weekend and hit the road, Bristol bound.
Wrapped up well, the cold day proved little challenge after last weekend's excitement and apart from the odd patch in heavy shadow the icy patches of last week had been consigned to history. If I’m honest, there’s not a lot to say about my trip down. Familiar roads made for easy miles as I headed West towards the setting sun. Through Newbury, Hungerford and Marlborough with its long steady climb to cross The Ridgeway, followed by flatter, easier terrain as you criss cross the M4 corridor, before another long steady climb opens out the view across Bristol with the Severn Bridges in the distance and Wales beyond. Country lanes, pretty villages each equipped with a church and war memorial, bare winter trees with the low sun silhouetting their branches against the grey winter sky. Sheep raise their heads in interest as you pass, a nod of the head and a raised finger in acknowledgement of a cyclist heading the other way. A brief stop for a sandwich in Hungerford and a biscuit or two as the sun sets and I add a layer and fit my head torch in preparation for the last few hours in the dark. With the darkness, the temperature drops quickly. Cold but bearable and a big improvement on the start of the week. Things must be going well though as the first time I think to look at how much further it is, I’ve covered 80 miles just leaving another 18 to finish off the day. It’s always a good indication of how much I’m enjoying myself, it’s hard going if you're counting down the miles. Less than 90 minutes later I’m safely ensconced in my temporary home, kettle on, fingers warming up and satisfied with another good day's work. 98 miles, which includes the 11 into work in the morning, isn't a bad tally for the day, and it was a lot more fun than sitting on the M4 in the van!
After the worst night's sleep ever, I was up and raring to go in plenty of time for Saturday's start. I don’t know why as I normally sleep like a dead man, but I spent the whole night tossing and turning, I even got up at one point and had a brew, not that it made any difference, and I was still awake again before 5.
Anyway, enough of my insomnia. The 6 miles from the hotel down to the start location made for a nice warm up and by the time I’d picked up my Brevet card, fiddled around with the GPS, put my gloves back on and taken them back off half a dozen times and generally messed around it was time for the off. There’s always something special about a new route. Heading off into the unknown, a possible world of wonders ahead, and today's ride didn’t disappoint. There weren’t any of the breath-taking vistas, no impossible climbs or fear-inducing descents, just mile after mile of pleasant country roads on a cold but dry winter's day. Out from the outskirts of Bristol we were soon following the Severn Valley on a meandering course, heading generally North. An early Info Control at Littleton-upon-Severn kept us on route and ensured the day's mileage was correct. A slow few miles’ stuck behind a horse box, which in turn fought the light traffic coming the other way, but generally a fast start to the day on flat, well surfaced roads. A quick stop at the first control point for a stamp on my brevet card and then onwards, bound for the edge of Gloucester and the turn to take us back Southwards. Different terrain for the return leg, gone are the fast easy miles, replaced with more rolling terrain, wooded valley sides, sharp turns across streams and rivers, crossings of the M48 making it’s way North, all punctuated by some longer steeper climbs, ideal for getting your heart rate up and keeping the winter chill at bay. Eventually though, with hunger pangs nipping at my belly and legs rapidly tiring, a final climb bought us to the final checkpoint at Tortworth Farm Shop Cafe, where they’ve specially stocked an outside table with treats designed to test the temptation of even the hardiest Audaxer. A hot brew, possibly the best sausage roll I’ve ever had and the second-best bit of bread pudding I’ve ever had, provided sustenance to see me through the final few miles, whilst the enforced rest as I stuffed my face gave me a chance to stretch rapidly stiffening muscles ready for the final leg. (Incidentally, the best bit of bread pudding, (which is one of my favourites), came from a bakery when I was running the Brenda Parker way, at a time when my belly thought my throat had been cut, but that's another story). There’s still work to be done and sitting around won’t get it done, so I push on before I get too cold. The last few miles tick down quite happily and before I know it I’m back where I started from, just leaving a couple more miles to get me back to Travelodge paradiso, where a hot brew, a warm shower and an early night beckons. Another 78 miles to add to the year's tally then. But not just 78 miles. That’s 78 miles along new roads, roads that have taken me to new places and opened up new areas that I’m going to have to come back and explore in greater detail at some point in the future. And if nothing else, it was worth going all that way and burning all those calories just for that sausage roll and bread pudding
Looking out into the dark on Sunday morning the forecast for another dry day appeared to have been wrong as the streetlights reflected back through the heavy drizzle. Oh well, not brilliant but it could be worse. An hour or so later as I ventured out into the still dark morning, it was still damp, but the drizzle wasn’t actually that bad, which was lucky as I didn’t have any waterproofs with me, just the windproof jacket I’d had on all weekend and an emergency down jacket in case I had to stop somewhere, neither of which are very waterproof!
I think the best way to describe Sunday's weather was muddy. There was plenty of drizzle, (enough to get me wet at times), but even when it stopped it was still incredibly damp and the roads were just, well, muddy. Mud that gets everywhere, it coats your bike, it gets flung up and leaves your legs damp and dirty, it gets between the brake callipers and rattles and squeaks, and it builds up on the inside of your mudguards until it starts rubbing on the tyres, until the rain starts again and washes it back out or you have to stop to scrape it back out again. It wasn’t all bad though. The temperature was far pleasanter than last week, the roads were quiet whilst everyone hid at home and my legs felt surprisingly good considering the efforts of the previous days and I made good time as I headed towards home. In fact, having set off at 07:30 I was rolling into Marlborough a few minutes after 11:30, with 45 miles done and just over halfway home. Time for a quick sandwich and then push on into the misty drizzle. Moving steadily through the damp, overcast, countryside I was having a great time. This is the 3rd time in the last few weeks I’ve been this way and it's almost as if the bike knows the way home. All I’ve got to do is peddle and watch out for the potholes which litter our roads and will spell disaster for the unwary. Sometimes it all feels like hard work, but not today, the miles roll effortlessly along and in fact before I know it, I’m back home. It’s hard to believe that in exactly 6 hours I’ve travelled from Bristol to Basingstoke, you can see how the bicycle opened up the world. It would have taken days to make the same journey by foot or horse, but by bike, well I’m not going to pretend it’s easy, but it’s not that hard either!
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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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