Sometimes I wish I wasn't so easily lead, it's not a good trait and over the years it's got me into more trouble than you can shake a stick at! To be honest you'd think that I was old enough to know better, but there you go, obviously not. I'm guessing that the question on everyone's mind right now though, is what on earth is he on about now? Well;
We're on holiday this week (that's the royal we, as in "The Emma" and I), nothing special, just a little holiday cottage up in the peak district, but as we were sat having dinner one day in the week, discussing how we were going to get there, the Emma said "I'm surprised your not cycling up, I had a look earlier and it's only 200ish miles". Now I must confess, that I had considered it a few months back, but then, like most things, life got in the way and I'd not given it much thought since, assuming, incorrectly as it turned out, that we'd just both go up together. Having a proper look at the maps showed that with a bit of jiggling around and rerouting to avoid some of the major conurbations it was exactly 200 miles, door to door. The weather looked favourable for the trip up, and if I left straight from work Friday afternoon, I should be able to get there for Saturday afternoon, ready for a relaxing week away.
A rapid escape from work on Friday, saw me on the road for lunchtime, just as the day started to really heat up and the wind decided to join in. Headwind or not though, the first 50 or so miles flew by on familiar roads. Steadily working cross country, skirting up to the East side of Reading and crossing the Thames at Pangbourne, followed immediately by the long, steep, climb up to Whitchurch I was in my element.
A quick pause to get my breath back and grab a sandwich overlooking the plain from the high point at Whitchurch hill and onwards, heading towards Bicester. With the temperature continuing to climb and the wind blowing straight in my face (that's the problem with only going one way, if you get the wind the wrong way, your stuck with it for the long haul) Bicester, when it finally arrived, seemed like a good opportunity to refill my, by now empty, water bottles and grab an ice cream.
Pushing on from Bicester towards Daventry was pretty hard going. With the sun beating down and the wind doing it's best to blow me back home, it was a hard couple of hours. When the going's tough, it's just a case of head down and keep going, there's no other way to get there, so just keep spinning the old legs, let the mind wander for a while and keep watching the scenery go by.
The changing colours of the countryside and the variations on building style are a pretty good way to mark your passage across the different counties and distract you from the job in hand. From the pretty cottages with their recognisable yellow painted windows and doors on the Hampshire borders, to the limestone walled, thatched cottages of the Cotswolds and onwards to the dry stone walls of the Peak District, the countryside is constantly changing and evolving with something new to look at, or landscape to take your breath away around every corner. Much day dreaming later Daventry finally arrived and with it the chance to stock up on milk and goodies to see me through the night. There's no point in lugging milk half way across the country, but I can't even consider getting going in the morning without a brew, so stock up and find somewhere to chill out for half an hour and grab some tea. By the time I'd eaten and had a bit of a sort out, the temperature had dropped enough to make things a lot more bearable and pushing on for the last hour was far more pleasurable riding. With the sinking sun glinting through the scattered high clouds and the Swallows being replaced by Bats out hunting for their breakfast, it's a lovely time of day to be out. Like all good things though, eventually they must come to an end, and as dusk settled over the surrounding countryside it was definitely time to find a secluded spot to pitch my hammock and get me head down for a few hours.
With the sun making an early appearance on the Eastern horizon, pushing the darkness slowly from the sky and the birds announcing that the day was beginning, it was time to get the kettle on and make use of that milk that I'd lugged along for the last few miles yesterday.
Sat, perched on the edge of my hammock amongst the trees, brew in hand, with the sun sparkling off the early morning dew was a great way to start the day. And the fact that it was still warm enough at early O'Clock to be only wearing a cycling top, was either a great thing or an omen of a hot, hard day ahead. There's no point in sitting around in the cool dawn air though and I was on my way by 06:00, pushing slowly ahead on deserted roads, making hay whilst the sun shone, as the farmer's making good use of the break in the weather, did the same in the fields all along my route. Through Barton in the Beans where the cows were just being bought in for their early morning milking and onto flatter country, wind turbines studding the landscape amongst the cornfields, turning lazily in the still morning air. By 09:00 my belly was telling me that it was time for breakfast number 2 and finding a handy bench I settled down for a brew and biscuit sat in the sun. 2 breakfasts by 09:00, see this cycling lark does have some advantages!
Slap the sunscreen on and carry on North, next stop Burton upon Trent, home to breweries, Burtonisation, The Burton Union and exporters of the finest IPA's to the empire. No time for a pint today though. Although with the temperature making a steady break for the top of the thermometer it would have been a welcome distraction (and probably the end of my day after one became 2. I keep telling you that I'm easily lead and have no will power).
While I'm here, I might as well take advantage, grab an ice cream, and have 5 minutes sat in the sun watching the canal boats making their way slowly along the Trent and Mersey Canal. Yet another throw back to times long gone, hard graft and tow path horses, repurposed for a life of leisure and pleasure! Another hour of easy riding past Burton and then the days work really began, as the road starts the long, initially gradual, but rapidly becoming steeper climb up into the Peak District.
As the hills started to come thick and fast, so the temperature continued to climb and by the time I reached Carsington Water the heat was starting to take it's toll, and I was starting to struggle. A quick pause for lunch, sat in the shade of a small copse of trees, helped to restore some resemblance of form, but it couldn't last as the heat rapidly retook it's stranglehold on not only me, but the world around me.
By 13:00 it was up to the high 20's in the shade and considerably hotter out on the road with the sun beating down and the tarmac, slowly melting in the hot sun, reflecting the heat straight back up again. With the Derbyshire hills doing their best to keep me from my destination and the sun taking it's toll, I don't mind admitting that by mid afternoon I was at my limit! Checking the SatNav showed a disappointing 20 miles still to push and with my average speed down to a 10 mph crawl, I was starting to wonder if I had it in me. There's 2 choices though, carry on and sweat it out with the promise of a brew at the end, or call it a halt for the afternoon, stick up the hammock and chill out until it cools down a bit. Choices, choices! "Maybe I'll just push the bike to the top of this hill and stop for a while". "Now I'm at the top I might as well coast down the other side and ride the few feet of flat before the next hill". "This one looks ride-able, Maybe I'll just get to the top of this one" And so it went on. With the sun continuing to beat down, so the miles started to slowly tick down too. 20,15,12,11,10, stop to refill the water bottles at a handily positioned tap, soak my gloves and helmet to cool down and there's only 10 more miles to go. 5 miles to go and the first sign announcing my destination appeared. "Come on then sun, do your best, I've got this now". One last climb and then it's all down hill for the last couple of miles (we'll ignore the fact that I'm going to have to go back this way next weekend). Rolling down those last few miles with the cooling breeze blowing the sweat from my tired body, I'd already forgotten the struggle of those last few hours. One last bump in the road, one last little hill, a pause at a set of traffic lights, roll through Bradwell and that's it, job done. 202 miles, across the 2 hottest days of the year so far and I don't mind saying that the heat took it's toll, giving me plenty of time to wonder if I was actually capable of this or should I admit defeat, or at least sit out the worst of the day. "A feint heart never won a fair lady" though and on this occasion, sheer bloody mindedness and struggling on won. Next time, who knows. That's what makes these games such fun. You never know the outcome or what's going to actually happen until you try!
On an unrelated note, I'm just going to leave this here, from this mornings short leg stretching run. I'm off now to find a map and see where else my legs can take me!
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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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