Surprisingly I’m going to start this week by saying “That wasn’t as much fun as it should have been”, which is pretty unusual! I suppose that that doesn’t really tell you much though, so let me elucidate.
Saturday saw the traditional January running of the Poor Student Audax. 200 Km’s of wintery cycling fun through the glorious Cotswolds. Running clockwise this year, to take in the glories of Oxford, Chipping Campden, Malmesbury, Highworth, and a thousand pretty little towns and villages in between. Now, as I sit he writing this I can hear you all thinking “How can that not be fun, it sounds brilliant”. Well, did you see the weather on Saturday? Having been watching the forecast all week, things didn’t look to good for Saturday, and having spent a comfortable night in the van, the sound of rain drumming on the roof and the wind whistling round the skylight when I awoke, confirmed that the forecast appeared to be accurate. Oh well, it can’t be much worse than last week, can it? In fact, as we gathered in the dark at the start, it didn’t seem too bad. It was only drizzling, and the wind would be on our backs for the first leg up to Chipping Campden, making an easy start to the day, so it wasn’t all bad. More surprisingly considering what was to come, I wasn’t the only idiot out that morning as there were 109 similar idiots stood around waiting for the off. In my opinion that’s a good number considering the time of year and the weather and it surprised me after the lack of numbers through most of last year (even at the height of summer lots of events were poorly attended) so maybe things are starting to get back to normal after a couple of rough years? Back to the subject in hand, and bang on 07:30 we were off, into the dark and drizzle, a steady stream of red taillights in front as we fell into line and found our own rhythms, stiff legs slowly turning the cranks, gently warming up for the day’s efforts ahead. With the wind behind and fresh legs the miles rolled quickly along and before I knew it, I was tucking into a warm steak slice at the first control of the day at Shipton under Wychwood. 17 miles down, 110 to go, next stop Chipping Campden, but not before some lovely miles through pretty little villages, which now that it was finally light, I could actually see. Pretty little villages wrapped up safely against the weather and devoid of the tourists which normally occupy the village greens and open spaces on a summer’s day. Down country lanes, wet from the nights rain, across hump backed bridges crossing streams in full spate from the water running down from the surrounding hills, and up steep inclines, fighting against the water still cascading down the gutters. In fact, at this point, things were looking good, the miles were ticking slowly down, the rain had temporarily abated, and it was actually quite warm. Warm to the point where I seriously considered stopping to take off a layer or 2. I suspect that I might have spoken too soon though, as just before Chipping Campden the rain returned with a vengeance! Not the soft pitter patter that had accompanied my short ride to the start, but the hard, fling it in your face and bounce back up off the road type. Oh, well, I can’t say that it wasn’t forecast, and I should be used to it by now!
This next leg was always going to be the hardest, being the hilliest, but just how hard it was going to be was an unknown as I made my way out of Chipping Campden, heading for Malmesbury.
Straight uphill, straight into the wind and straight into the rain, and that’s pretty much how it felt like I spent the next 4 hours. I’ll grant you there was the odd break in the rain, but by that time my boots were already full of water and my gloves soaked so it didn’t make much difference. In fact, the sun actually broke through the clouds on a couple of occasions, to reflect brightly back off the wet road surface, causing me to squint tightly against the brightness, which was particularly unpleasant in it's own right. (You just can't please some people can you!) Even without the rain, the wind continued to do its worst, the only respite being on the long steep uphill sections, which seemed almost constant and never ending, when the lee of the hill provided some shelter, until you neared the top, when its full force returned. Don’t get me wrong though, it wasn’t all bad news. The birds were still singing, there were still other people out and about, the odd walker and a few horse riders braving the weather, as we were. The views from the top of the climbs were still stunning, with the low, fast-moving clouds providing constant change to the sky. The climbs were taxing, but the downhills exhilarating and crossing paths with other riders provided the comfort of shared suffering and the odd brief chat as we each made our way steadily South. Eventually though Malmesbury arrived, and with it the chance to get off the bike for a few minutes, grab a sandwich, change my socks for slightly less wet ones and generally relax for a few minutes, or relax as well as you can when your wet and sat outside! There’s no point in hanging around though, it’s still too cold to sit and enjoy yourself, and getting colder by the minute. Anyway, that should be the worst behind me now, the forecast for the afternoon is better and heading East, the wind should now be on our side again, next stop Highworth, 17 miles away. As promised, things were looking up. The wind was almost helping instead of directly hindering, the terrain was more rolling than brutal, and the rain stayed away. Just over an hour later, with nothing more to report than a few spots of rain, a quick conversation with a lovely couple out for a few local miles whilst sat at some traffic lights and a couple of short climbs, I was in Highworth getting the answer for the info control, before turning right for the last stop of the day at Shrivenham. And that’s where the fun ended! Just before Shrivenham the rain returned with with some real viciousness, and whilst the wind was now firmly on my back and the terrain pretty much flat, which allowed a good turn of speed, as darkness approached so the temperature dropped and that coupled with the rain sapping my enthusiasm and body temperature meant I started to get cold. A chocolate bar at Shrivenham helped restore a bit of morale and I pushed on for the last leg of the day as the rain fell steadily and darkness wrapped its comforting hand around the world. A few miles from Oxford the rain did subside for a while, revealing an almost full moon in all its glory. But by then the damage had been done. I was cold, wet and tired and no longer feeling the love for riding my bike. The final straw came on the outskirts of Oxford where I hit a massive pot hole obscured by the dark and full of water, hard enough to dislodge the batteries in my GPS causing it to shut down (Garmin Etrex if you’re interested (I know proper old school, but it works for me)). I tried to restart it whilst moving, but just couldn’t get the dexterity in my cold and wet fingers to manage it. Admitting defeat and rolling to a stop, I pulled off my sodden gloves and tried to sort things out. However, as is always the case when your tired and wet, it firstly took ages to restart and then failed to reload the route! Stood there with the rain cascading over me in the dark I might have had a bit of a sense of humour failure at that point! After what felt like a week stood at the roadside, but was actually probably only minutes, I sorted it out and was back under way, just wishing for the end, a brew and the chance to dry out. Luckily that came sooner rather than later. As, having reached my wits end, I was only a couple of miles from the end and rolling through the early evening Oxford traffic gave me something to occupy my mind for those last couple of miles, distracting me from my pit of misery and despair. When I finally got there, the end was indeed a relief and a few minutes later I was back in the van with the heater blowing full pelt and a brew in hand, wet clothes discarded, warm and dry again, wondering what all the fuss had been about. I’ll happily admit that that was a hard, hard day. Big hills, atrocious weather and maybe I wasn’t in the best frame of mind anyway, having been wet multiple times in the last couple of weeks. But you know what, looking back, even now, I still had a great time. Just me and a few like minded souls against the weather, making the most of it and getting out there. And, from what I saw between the rain and clouds, it looked like a stunning route, which just means that I’m going to have to go back and do it again and hope I get to see more of it next time!
Having been fully immersed in the weather on Saturday, Sunday looked better. So, being the enterprising chap I am I relocated down to Abingdon on Saturday night, planning on getting a few miles of running in along the Thames path on Sunday morning.
And a brilliant plan it was too, as Sunday dawned clear and bright, with no signs of Saturdays monsoon. Dawn was just breaking as I set out on what should have been some lovely miles along the side of the Thames which was full to bursting and in full spate, as yesterday’s rain rushed noisily downstream to its eventual meeting with the sea. All was not to be though. The riverside track was slick with muddy. The slippery, horrible sort, that makes it impossible to get any grip or keep your footing. Slip sliding from one side of the path to the other and trying vainly to avoid the worst of the puddles I made slow progress for a couple of miles, but all was not well. 3 miles in and I fell for the 2nd time in quick succession, my feet going from under me in the slippery conditions. This was pointless, I was making only limited progress and at this rate I was going to seriously hurt myself for little or no gain. So that was the end of that. I slowly retraced my steps, had a mooch around the lock at Abingdon, watched the river for a bit and called it a day before I hurt myself, and I’m happy with that as a sensible decision. Live to fight another day as they say, and I’m sure that they’ll be plenty more times to get muddy when it does actually matter.
And just before I go, how about this for yet another bit of rubbish. I bought this head torch back in the summer, and I’d be amazed if it’s been used more than a dozen times. Now I tend to look after things as well as I can (if you look after them then they’ll look after you). But due to poor design it’s already broken.
Now I know they need to keep the weight down, but come on, any fool can see that that’s going to be a weak point. Not to worry though, we have the technology to repair and improve. So one bit of copper, neatly trimmed to size and fixed in with epoxy resin and we're back in the game. Fixed, improved and better than before!
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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
March 2024
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