An evening meal of bacon and cheese potato shells followed by Tagliatelli Carbonara and Treacle Tart with Custard set me up for a fine night's sleep for my second 300 in 8 days. Up at 5.15 for the 6am start. I slump into the brakfast room to see Liz Creese (!) and three other riders but they are in high spirits talking to each other, so I don't have the opportunity to talk with them. Museli, a banana and a pint of coffee wake me up and shortly I am freewheeling down the hill to the start.
Through the inky gloom I make out Dai and Ron who have travelled up together, and John who sees me and we have a chat. He says he once did this ride in 15 hours (John?) and plants the idea of a fast time in my mind. Hmm. 15 hours is 100k in 5 hours including stops, three times. Not likely for me, I think. All the regulars are there: Barry, Anne and David - and a pleasant surprise: a guy called Andy from Chepstow who I see occasionally and is very good company.
The start is a bit of a scramble as riders start to leave without being told to do so, and not wanting to be left behind, I set off and join the bunch. Up the hill to St Briavel's we go - how I love a 10 mile climb at the start of the ride :-( But I am feeling good, and let myself go at the pace my legs want to go - this is probably too fast for the start of a 300 I tell myself - but what the hell, enjoy it while you can. We swoop down the hill to the first control at Ross-on-Wye (39km). I have an hour and nine minutes in hand, but I don't feel like joining the long queue for a second breakfast, so I kick my heels for 10 minutes while I have a fag outside, and then press on with David and Anne - I am in good company: they must have had nearly 300 points between them last year (they are also very pleasant company :-).
The cycling is going very well, and David and Anne are pretty quick riders, so about this time I decide to push it - let's see how I get on - if I start to blow up then I can always have a long rest and/or slow down. We press on through Ledbury heading for Tenbury Wells (98km) - the terrain is pretty flat so we are able to keep up 15 to 20 mph and roll in to the control at 10.20. Wow - 4 hours 20 for 98k - 2 hours 12 in hand! I have a well-deserved cup of tea and a sticky bun. David and Anne shoot off leaving me to it, so I set off on my own for Craven Arms.
Soon I meet up with a couple of riders, one of whom is a "face" I know. We have a choice of routes: a main road bash, a climb over Clee Hill, or an intermediate lumpy route. We decide on the latter - none of us feeling very brave! I am still feeling good and soon drop the other two. Then I see a solo rider ahead of me and decide to catch him. I do so, drop behind for a while, have a chat and then press on to catch the next rider. I found it irresistable to have a rider dangling like a carrot a few hundred yards ahead of me. Sometimes I'd catch a flash of dayglo yellow through the hedge perhaps half a mile away, and then I'd just have to put the hammer down.
So into Craven Arms at 126km at 11.50 - only a short stretch, but now I am 2 hours 34 ahead of schedule, so I sit down for more tea and cake and a well-deserved fag. I have a chat with another flam blue Roberts rider - we both mope about the fact that our bikes are nearly passé - there must be at least 4 if not 6 on this ride (all flam blue)! As I set off Ron comes into the control and accuses me light-heartedly of "racing" - this is more-or-less the only time I see any of the Swansea riders for the rest of the day.
I press on for Mortimers Cross. I have now definitely got the bit between my teeth. Mortimers Cross is at 150km, and if I can get there by 1.30pm then I shall be on schedule for a 15 hour ride (20kph). Head down, keeping up 20kph as a minimum speed is not too hard, although there are some lumpy bits. Chasing down riders ahead of me is fun though, and of course it helps keep my pace up. At Morimers Cross I am pleased to arrive at 1.06pm, 24 minutes ahead of my new schedule and a staggering (tm) 2 hours 54 before the control closes. However, I also realise I've made a mistake - I don't feel like stopping now having already had two controls in 52km, but the next control is 58km away - I should have skipped the last control and then stopped for lunch at this one. I compromise by eating half a malt loaf outside. Andy is there and we have a pleasant chat and set off togther for the home leg.
The winds have been light all day although the sun never materialised (probably a blessing in disguise), but I am starting to feel a bit a stiff now, and I am ominously getting the first signs of saddle soreness. After a while we catch a bunch of four riders and draught them for a while - which by this stage I am grateful for. I am definitely starting to flag now, and I have left the last half of my malt loaf in my bag. A dilema! I want to stop so I can get my food, but then I'll lose the bunch and I'll be stuck on my own in this headwind that seems to have just sprung up unhelpfully. I perservere for a while, but it is no good. I stop, grab a mouthful and after putting the remainder in my pockets, really try and wind it up to get back with the group. It is agony forcing the pedals down, but I make it and slump onto the back of the group just as we hit a long, long drag where I don't have the opportunity to eat.
After a few hopeless minutes I finally give in, stop for five minutes while I scoff the last of my malt loaf and wash it down, and then set off again. But now I am reduced to winching myself up what is not a very steep hill. A few riders pass me, but am sanguine - it was good fun while it lasted, but I'm happy to plod along at a more reasonable pace - after all, I should still have absolutely bags of time in hand.
Much to my delight however, the malt loaf and maxim does its job and my legs are feeling good by the I reach the information control at Crossgates - I am definitely getting saddle sore though - ok now, but I will be wincing by the end of the ride I can tell. I roll down the hill into familair territory - Conti's Cafe in Builth Wells (208km) at 3.45 - it seems the initial riding with Andy was enough to keep my pace up despite the proto-bonk: I have 15 minutes in hand on 20kph pace, and 4 hours 7 on 15kph, and 9 hours 45 for 208km to boot!. But now I must have a proper stop. Tea, Beans on Toast, more tea, and oh my god, yes I'm going to go for it: a big bowl of fruit salad with ice cream. I start to think again of getting home in 15 hours, but another rider unhelpfully informs me that there are two big climbs on the way home. Ah well - I shall be content with my times for the 100 and 200, and even if I have to walk up the hills I shouldn't run out of time.
I set off with Andy again, feeling good in spirits, but sore in bum. I can't keep up with Andy so let him go as soon as we catch more riders. We are heading for Abergevenny now, and I realise with some dismay that the first of the two climbs must be from Talgarth over the Black Mountains. Indeed it is: the hills positively loom at me as we drop down into Talgarth - I had forgotten how intimidating the prospect of climbing a huge lump on the horizon can be. The climb is not steep however, just long. I keep up a reasonable pace all the way up, catching quite a few riders which is good for the spirits, but my pace can only be about 15kph, so I'm not losing time-in-hand, but I really want that 15-hour ride and so I'm frustrated that it will be hard to bring my average speed back up to 20kph on this leg. At the top I meet a couple of riders who have bonked - I am tempted to join them on the verge (they are both really nice chatty old-timers) but they shout out encouragement and I decide to recouperate as I descend. And a jolly wonderful descent it is too - 3 or 4 miles of gradual slope with the odd bit of 1 in 8 or 10 to boost the speed.
Averaging about 25 mph downhill I arrive at the Abergevenny control (263km) at 6.49pm with 4 hours 43 in hand. I am too tired to work out what this means as far as my goal of a 15 hour ride is concerned (actually 20 minutes ahead - ed), but am satisfied with being nearly 5 hours ahead of minimum pace after 263km. My bum is now very sore though.
Off for the last hill then. First down through Usk and then the climb starts. Again it is not steep, but again it goes on forever. Saddle soreness is now acute. I discover that if I can force myself to sit squarely on the saddle that the pain is bearable after a while, but every time I have to get off the saddle to honk, or am bumped off it by even a few millimeters by a bump in the road, then I have to go through the agony of sitting down again. Thus I am forced to winch myself up the last hill and thoughts of a 15-hour ride recede once more.
The last descent of the day is wonderful - slightly steeper than the last, and the road is wide, very smooth (aaah!) and has corners that are steep enough for a thrill, but not dangerously so. I swoop down occasionally using the big gear for a quick push along the flatter bits, coasting around the corners - God smiles on me as the temporary traffic lights I encounter change to green as I flash past at 35mph in the darkness with Nightsuns blazing (what a hit!). I roll up to the control and hand my card over - I am torn between eagerly enquiring about the time and slumping in a heap on the floor. I get my card back to sign and ... yes! It's 8.53pm. 14 hours and 53 minutes, 5 hours and 7 minutes in hand on a 300km ride.
All in all a very successful day out. 2245m of climbing is the only stat I've left out. I am a bit concerned that I'm losing some of my original enjoyment in cycling by going so fast - at one point another rider was telling me about this really neat castle he knew about which looks stunning from some raod or other road, but I had no idea where this place was. Then it dawned on me that we were cycling past that castle at the time - I hadn't noticed! So I'm definitely minded to get back to some proper 50 miles a day max touring. (Famous last words? - ed)
© Kilgore's Enterprises February 1997