[Editor's note: This was was written in a week when I'd done The Great Eastern starting on Saturday and finishing on Tuesday, having a couple of days off, then doing a 200k ride from Swansea to Bristol on the Thursday, then another 200 from Bristol to Lulworth on the Friday, and lined up for the National 400 on the Saturday].
Well, once again I find myself sat at my desk, completely whacked, and with no inclination to do anything other than write this. Actually, having to focus on the screen and type is a bit of an effort - so this may turn out to be a brief report.
I have more or less decided to give myself a break and not do the coastal rides to Devon. I much prefer the idea of starting the Torplex - which should be a nice ride with fresh legs and some enthusiasm. As I mentioned to you on the phone, the ride down to Lulworth was gruelling and it left me feeling weary at the start of the 400. Now I find I'm very tired and not a little angry with myself for not taking better, care of myself: my living space is an utter dump for example. I walked past a man with a Marks and Spencer carrier bag this morning and immediately thought about gorging on some cream cakes - a very bad sign. Time to spend some time on me.
Anyway to the cycling. Audax riders? Ha - get a life! I say this because it dawned on me as I was limping into Poole from Lulworth, that I had just spent the night a mile from Lulworth Cove - a well- known beauty spot of course, and I hadn't even thought to go and look at it. In fact, as the youth hostel where I stayed is tucked in behind a hill, I didn't even see the sea! Nevertheless, I was in Poole by 10am and enjoyed myself sitting on the quayside munching my way through the contents of a small bakery. The sun was out, I had everything I wanted and I felt relaxed if a bit weary. By and by the passing cyclists came to be predominated by those with drop handlebars and saddle bags so I made my way up to the start where there were already quite a few riders. It was getting ominously hot as midday approached, but being English we stretched out in the sun as we swapped recent cycling stories and tales of achievement. There were lots of people and faces that I knew which made for a very pleasant time. By 2pm about 200 of us were lined up to receive short addresses from (1) the organiser, (2) the president of the CTC, (3) the Poole town council environment officer and (4) the mayor.
All this to-do gave was quite a nice buzz to the atmosphere, and despite the number of rides I've done I had butterflies in my stomach as we set off on the first 5k through Poole. Once we were past the last police-controlled roundabout the going was easy and the riders started to string out as everyone found their own pace on the dual carriageway towards Romsey. It was very sunny though, and I was a bit nervous of this and resolved to try to keep drinking all the time.
It took me a while to find my place and get settled. On the one hand I still had plenty of nervous excitement in me, but on the other my legs didn't feel fresh so I erred on the side of caution, blasting my way past only one or two slower riders who I felt were holding me up. After about an hour however, my long distance walking friends Ian and Lorraine whizzed by on their tandem with a friendly "Hi Ben". I couldn't resist shifting onto my big chainring and jumping on their back wheel at 25mph. To my amusement about half a dozen other riders then grabbed my wheel and we all sped off together at a suicidal pace. This was very hard work but terrific fun, especially on the odd occasion that the tandem got away from us as a result of being held up at a T-junction or traffic lights - we had to go eyeballs-out to catch their wheel again, and although I never knew the other riders' names I felt there was a sense of camaraderie between us.
Approaching Romsey about fifty of us swooped through the town like a mini tour de France peloton only to discover to our chagrin that we'd come out at a dead end - it turned out that the guy at the front was a local and was going to go to the loo at the bus station toilets and we'd all followed him there!
Shortly thereafter we got to the control at Romsey scout hut at 65k - I forgot to make a note of my times of arrival, but I remember thinking "Hmm. 3 hours in hand after 65k. I think I might have set off a bit too fast!" It was at Romsey that the first signs of poor organisation - already hinted at by a non- standard route sheet - began to manifest themselves. The food on offer was just cakes.
After a nice long stop I set off on my own into the early evening sunshine at a steady pace, laughing at myself for my earlier intemperance. Until this point I hadn't needed to use the route sheet, but now I did and the problems began when I missed a right turn in the lanes towards Newbury. I was in the middle of nowhere - a very pleasant rural nowhere, but nowhere just the same. By and by I came across another couple of riders who were also dawdling along looking this way and that with a route sheet in hand. We got together and after studying maps (thank god I did take one - I nearly left it behind!) we got back on route after a 5 mile detour. As with the 1000, the route sheet seemed to have been prepared by someone who knew the route well, but had written it out from memory from the comfort of their living-room and/or assumed riders would be carrying and using maps. I guess that we didn't have to backtrack much, but there was a lot of stopping and cursing at junctions, and by the time we arrived at Curridge (130k, near Newbury) we were definitely unhappy with the route sheet, and there was a suspicion that we were over-distance as well (taking our detour into account).
I guess it must have been about 8.30pm when we got to the control - I remember thinking that it was a bit disconcerting that I only had a few hours in hand, possibly a result of the hot weather taking its toll but more likely a result of my earlier tandem -chasing, and at this rate it would be difficult to find time to sleep. And again, the control was not up to scratch - not a baked bean in sight. There was soup, except there wasn't enough of it, and filled rolls, but service was very slow.
I haven't said much about the scenery so far. I don't know where we were exactly, except that we had been through the New Forest at one point, but the countryside was jolly nice and we even saw a deer at one point - it had been foraging in the undergrowth on the side of the road until we startled it. Sickeningly, there was a much more exotic range of road-kills on this ride than usual. I counted one small deer (another one - we didn't run over the first one!), three badgers and a large bird-of-prey. I'm not up on my birds, but it was a sad sight. Its body must have been a foot and half long.
I set off from Curridge around 9pm with a couple of riders I'd been chasing the tandem with earlier, but it was a case of "three's a crowd" so I let them go after a while and settled in to some solo night riding. As with the 1000 this proved to be the most enjoyable part of the ride for me, cruising through the lanes now heading west with a tail wind and the light of full moon for much of the way. Somewhere near Swindon (Marlborough?) I was up on top of a ridge feeling fine with a huge view over some valley with the town all lit up below me when a big fireworks display went off in the distance - really superb!
What was not superb was the route sheet. At one point, around 11pm I guess, I'd been picked up by a large group of riders just as we entered some dark and poorly surfaced lanes with grit down the middle. I was just thinking "this would be a bad place to have a puncture on your own" when I got a puncture and got left to it by the bunch! Fortunately it was only half a mile's walk to a village with a streetlight where I could put a new tube in - very carefully as I was quite sleepy, not to say quite smashed. But after this I entered the lanes again - it was now completely dark and the clouds had covered the moon, and the lanes were reminiscent of Devon: narrow and windy, unsignposted junctions, or junctions with signposts to places that were neither on my route sheet nor map. Disconcertingly also, there weren't any other riders around and I was getting concerned about my batteries. Eventually however I found Yatton Keynall - the turning point at 200k, but I couldn't find the control. I went from one end of the village to other, time and time and again, exploring side roads and looking for hints on the route sheet, but with no success. And all the while losing what little time in hand I had. After about 20 minutes two more riders came by and eventually we found the control by going out of the village beyond the last streetlight, much to my relief (and exasperation!).
At last a proper control - the smell of bacon greeting us as we entered. Hurrah! At this point I had less than an hour and half in hand which I was quite worried about as this would mean no sleep at all. However, although somewhat stiff and tired, mentally I felt pretty good so I set off with I guy called Phil from Cardiff who'd earlier offered me a lift as far as Cardiff if we arrived back at around the same time. Phil had had an hour and a half's sleep whereas I'd had none, but we seemed to hit it off quite well and this made the miles to the next control only 30k away at Westbury fly by.
Now feeling zonked, but refreshed by some real coffee we set off for Pawlett (300k). At around 5am I dropped Phil on one of the big hills around Shepton Mallet and was getting too sleepy to be safe, so I crashed in a bus shelter for 20 minutes which I felt all the better for. The control at Pawlett was wonderfully run, and although we still only had an hour and half in hand a few minutes crashed out on the village green (at about 8am?) were much appreciated. Nearly all the riders were now convinced that the ride was over distance - it was supposed to be 410k, but it looked like being more like 430k at least - urgh - and especially so when time was getting tight. (And I needed to complete this ride on time to qualify for the Brevet 5000.)
So, now down to the last 100k (or should I say "100"k?) eastwards to Queen Camel ("330") and Dorchester ("370") before Poole. The first of these legs was an interminable navigational nightmare with directions such as "Cross A303, West Camel, Queen Camel [5k]" glossing over miles of poorly signposted and hilly terrain that went on for more like 20k than 5. The last two legs were really really tough, especially the last. The temperature rose to 30°C and there was no shelter as we winched ourselves over the hugely lumpy Dorset countryside - the kind of terrain that makes a tired cyclist weep. Around Sherbourne the climbs came thick and fast, several a mile long, followed by a dismal descents into a stiffening headwind. The last 20 miles were horrid. Very hot, very hilly, very tired. What made it worse was that not only were we looking at having a mere 30 minutes in hand by the end (gulp), but someone said that they were sure this was a RM event, so I was especially keen to get in on time (for my RM Brevet 5000). On top of all this stress the headwind was very strong in the last 10 miles, and the ride turned out to be 50 (five-oh) kilometres over-distance - there were not many smiles at the final control! At the end we had 45 minutes in hand and there were still 50 of 185 starts still unaccounted for - many of those that had not packed would have been out of time (although given the circumstances they'd probably get AUK validation if they were within an hour).
However, there was a special badge, and a nice one it is too. And I'm pleased to have completed 1900k (including hops between rides) in a little over 8 days, but it has given me second thoughts about doing the Great Triangle, or cramming so much riding into a short period of time again. I am now starting to think of doing some touring this Summer instead, and perhaps I'll throw in a few coastal relays if I feel like it at the time.
© Kilgore's Enterprises February 1997