Started off quite nicely with a more-or-less flat blast across bits of
Oxfordshire, Berkshire and Wiltshire; the two climbs either side of Lambourn
were a bit painful, but I've been there enough times now to know how it'll
end... The major problem on this leg was the Turnbull Effect, which happens
to anyone riding with or near Peter Turnbull, and causes them to go
off-route with monotonous regularity[1]. This I managed twice in the first
20 km.
Although I was one of the last on the road on reaching the first control at
Marlborough, I was still making good time, and cake and coke were taken on
board for the next leg to Bradford-on-Avon. Loafing in the cafe, Nik Windle
does his best to discourage me with tales of the hills to come: "long drags
and crappy descents - you'll hate it!". Thanks, Nik. It started to drizzle
a bit on this leg, but the hills weren't too bad and Peter Turnbull and
riding companion overtook three times in 5 km around Melksham. The final
stretch into Bradford-on-Avon was a bit fraught, as the control lay at the
bottom of a 14% hill, which was clogged with stationary cars. I was obliged
to indulge in some slightly rude overtaking practices, as otherwise I'd
still be there now.
The third leg led to Cheddar, mostly along narrow, rough and twisty lanes.
On an early one, my right-side mirror disintegrated and disappeared into the
undergrowth. Whatever it is they say about breaking mirrors came into
effect shortly afterwards. After pulling over to allow a car to pass,
forward progress amounted to three inches before the trike stopped dead. A
quick investigation shewed that a chain side plate had come adrift from its
rivet and attempted to pass the wrong side of the derailleur cage. There is
a word for this state of affairs, and it is this: [censored].
First remove the borken link. At which juncture something went "sprong" and
the chain disappeared up its tube like a rat up a drainpipe. Detach tube
from trike, reinsert chain, rejoin ends, pack everything away, set off.
Horrible grinding noise ensues, finally traced to the chain passing under a
tab on the frame rather than around the idler pulley. Stop, pulley off,
re-route chain, replace pulley, pack everything away again, onwards and
upwards.
To discover that the efforts of the broken link had mangled the front
derailleur somewhat. Climbing from small to middle chainrings /was/
possible, but the cage was bent downwards to the extent that it was fouling
the big ring. To achieve forward progress after an upshift, I was obliged
to lean forward and manipulate the derailleur cage so that its outside face
was rubbing on the inside of the big ring, which meant it also rubbed the
chain. However, even this was better than packing, so I plodded on to
Cheddar.
The last descent before getting to that town is a typical Audax thing, being
impossible to descend at full chat even if one is not being held up by a
motorcar. If I do this ride again, I shall be very tempted to descend
Cheddar Gorge instead, as the road is a good deal wider, way smoother and
lacking a T-junction at the bottom. A quick refuel in the chippie, and it
was off up the gorge.
"Steep at the bottom, but levels out fairly soon" was how the climb had been
described, and Lo! they did not lie. I caught the two riders ahead as we
reached the top of the uphill section whereat was Something Happening, under
the name "Big Green Gathering". The road we wanted was closed, and the
Silly Hippies manning the barricades declined to let us through, thus
necessitating a considerable detour. After a map check my new-found
companions zoomed ahead, and it took quite a while to realise that this was
due to my attempting to ride with the parking brake on.
More hills, more confusion. I had dropped the other two on the descent to
Chew Stoke whereafter my route sheet referred to "Cycle Route 3". But the
sign said "10". I concluded that there must be another junction further up
the hill. There was not. I followed route 10, with fingers firmly crossed
and one eye on my watch, rolling up to the Wick control with fourteen
minutes in hand and hoping that the other two were not far behind. One - a
chap named Edwin - appeared a few minutes after me, bearing news that the
other rider had packed.
The gen received with the route sheet said that the last 100 km were easy
going and, after one long climb onto the Cotswold escarpment, this seemed to
be so. Moreover, the route from Malmesbury to Cirencester should have been
familiar from the Poor Student. Which was sort-of true, as I went off-route
in the same place as before and round in a 3 km circle. My cursing
attracted the attention of some diners enjoying a post-prandial drink or two
with their front door open, and they were able to direct me to Cirencester
without recourse to the map.
I now had more than half an hour in hand for the last leg, though the route
sheet had a different take to the brevet card on this. Edwin appeared,
believing he had only four minutes in hand. The last leg was simple enough,
both from the perspective of navigation and terrain and I got my priorities
right in extricating a can of BEER from my motorcar /before/ handing in my
card.
Imagine something like the Surrey Hills with a flat 100 at each end, and
you've got some idea of what this ride is like. In spite of having 500m
less Scenery than the Dean, it's a good deal harder. Will I do it again?
Quite likely :-)
Thee Stats
==========
Distance: 325.30 km
Average: 16.4 km/h
Dead badgers: 2
Bottles consumed: 11, plus two Cokes, two chocolate milkshakes, one can of
shandy, one Lucozade...
1 - Peter tells me that he clocked 420 miles on the recent South Then North
600, which was advertised at 378...
--
Dave Larrington
<http://www.legslarry.beerdrinkers.co.uk>
und keine Eie.