A week late, but as the group has recently endorsed the posting of
longish ride reports I thought I'd write up the Severn Across.
On Friday night I was still trying to get some essential paperwork out
of the way before finally tracing the ride route out on the map. By the
time I was happy with my maps it was half past midnight and long past
the time I should have gone to bed. Nevertheless I crept in beside Sue
without waking her and closed my eyes only to open them again when the
alarm went off what seemed like a moment later, but was actually 3:30.
Pulled on my cycling gear and crept downstairs for some cereal, toast
and coffee. At 4:15 I was on the bike and heading for the start at
Chalfont St. Peter. The computer had clocked up 28k by the time I
reached the start and most of the riders were milling around getting
ready for the off. I was pleased that my bad knee had not given the
least twinge on the ride up but I was still determined to start the ride
gently and avoid getting sucked into a fast pace, so I wandered into the
hall, collected my brevet card, and sat down for a cup of tea and a
second light breakfast as the start time of 6:00 ticked up.
At 6:10 I thought it was time to get going and set out at a steady pace.
Within half a mile another late starter had caught me and warned me that
my pannier straps were hanging down. Damn. Stopped to check. Nothing
lost, pannier done up properly, lucky the straps had not caught in the
back wheel. Idiot.
At about 14k I was caught by 2 other late starters as we entered Great
Missenden. They were really flying. I sat on a wheel for about a mile
but decided the pace was way above what I wanted to be doing at this
stage and let them go.
As we got to Thame at about 35k I began to catch stragglers from the
earlier starters. After passing 4 of them I noticed I was gaining very
slowly on a rider ahead. A straggler would come into view, the rider
ahead would pass him then I would pass him about 2 minutes later. The
rider was gradually coming nearer though. As the gap closed I saw that
he was riding fixed. Then I noticed his three-quarter length trousers
and suddenly recognised him as Alex Foster with whom I'd ridden about
150k of the Dean 4 weeks earlier. I'd lent him a spare blinkie as his
brand new dynamo system had failed on that ride and he had no rear
light. As I drew level I called, "Hello Alex," and fell in alongside him.
We carried on riding together chatting and occasionally passing slower
riders. At about 60k we caught up with a small group containing John
Harwood and Nick Windle, also on fixed but using a higher gear than
Alex's. This group stayed together until we reached the 1st control at
the Blenheim Tea Rooms in Woodstock at 72k where it was beans on toast
all round.
After 20 minutes or so feeding our faces we set off again, not quite at
the same time but the group soon re-formed. The knee was still feeling
great and I started to push the pace a bit, particularly when the
terrain started to roll. After a while I looked back and saw that I was
alone. I carried on through Stow and Guiting Power, stopping for a
minute at Gotherington to take a layer of clothing off. As I was doing
up my pannier again John Harwood rolled up, also having dropped the
group, and we carried on together to the second control at Tewkesbury at
145k.
On the way there were a couple of sharp climbs with exhilarating
descents. I glanced at my computer going down one and it was showing 75
kph. I had to brake hard before speeding past a horse box which had
passed us on the climb a few minutes earlier, then turning sharply. The
max speed function showed that I had actually reached 77.7 kph before
hitting the brakes. Not bad for a draggy bike with panniers, mudguards
and front lowrider racks.
The control in Tewkesbury was another cafe, "My Great Grandfathers"
which provided an amusing diversion when one of the riders became
trapped in the gents and the door had to be broken down to free him.
Alex's group arrived while John and I were happily chomping, about 10
minutes behind and they were still refuelling as we set out again
towards Newent.
At 187k we reached an info control, then carried on towards Chepstow. We
stopped at a garage for Mars bars and some drinks. On previous rides I'd
been buying Lucozade Sport at every opportunity but I'd been getting
quite severe acid reflux and I wondered whether the drinks were to
blame. This time I refilled my bottle with a banana flavoured milk drink
and this seemed much gentler on the stomach.
We passed a group of about 6 riders stopped at another garage and
carried on to the climb to Yat Rock. There was a choice of routes here:
a short steep one, or a longer one with the same gain of height but
easier and about 2k longer. A quick discussion and John and I plumped
for the short steep one, although short is a relative term. It was very
steep, and long enough to be quite challenging. After Yat Rock there was
still quite a lot of uphill before finally the road turned downwards for
the fast ride into Chepstow where the control was the cafe in the Tesco
store. This was at 218k and it was now 17:00. The cafe was still serving
hot food, but only just. Later riders would miss it. Although we took
our time here Alex and Nick's group arrived just as we were leaving.
It's a stiff climb out of Chepstow before joining the cycle track to
cross back into England over the Severn Bridge towards Thornbury. There
was a bit of a side wind at this stage but it wasn't too bad. There was
still some climbing to do, particularly up past the Somerset Monument at
250k. This part of the route was similar to the Dean, and I remembered
that there had been some brutal climbs on the way back, but this ride
took an easier route after Malmesbury, 267k.
At 284k there was a garage listed on the route sheet as an optional food
stop, and it was very welcome. It was now lights on as we continued
through Wroughton, Chiseldon and Baydon to the control at the Membury
Services (314k) where there were just a few other riders. I hoped I
didn't look as shattered as they did. The prices were high and the food
poor, but at least it was hot and we had the entertainment of being
asked by a motorist how we'd got there without cycling along the M4.
At this point I dozed off for the best part of an hour. John could have
woken me or carried on alone but I think he was glad of the extra rest
too. Finally we set off again with still no sign of Nick or Alex.
There was still a reasonable amount of climbing to do. The route always
seemed reasonably flat until it turned a sharp corner, then every time
it did so there was a huge wall of road looming up into the darkness. We
caught a rider John said had left the services 10 minutes ahead of us
with a partner. I must have been still groggy as I hadn't registered
either of them. He looked really shot as we went past him, but he
returned our greeting.
Now the sky began to be lit with flashes. At first we weren't sure if
they were car headlights but soon it became clear it was sheet
lightning. As we pushed on through Hampstead Norreys, Streatley and
Goring the lightning became more intense, no longer sheet lightning but
immense bolts that dazzled us and ruined our night vision leaving vivid
after images on our retinas, and accompanied by loud cracks of thunder
just a second or two later. We expected to get a real soaking at any
moment, but the rainstorm never hit us. Instead we rode through its
aftermath, the road flooded a foot deep in places, our feet getting
soaked in the wash from the wheels.
In Henley we detoured slightly to find another 24 hour garage at 374k.
This would be our last chance to get food before the finish. At the
garage we came across the companion of the rider we had passed before
encountering the lightning. They had been riding together when one of
them had hit a bad patch and dropped back. Did he mind if he rode with
us? Of course not. But I was too zonked to catch his name. Before
leaving Henley there was some amusement with the police trying to
disperse a group of chavs still out on their Saturday night.
Now the ride was tedious. It was the small hours, we were cold and
tired, our feet were wet, and we wanted it to be over. It should have
been an easy ride to the finish but every so often there was a tough
little climb, and each one seemed like an extra little insult. I started
gritting my teeth on these climbs and found that I was leaving the other
two a little way behind. I would then make the most of the following
descent and ease up and wait for them when the road flattened out again.
We went like this through Marlow, Bourne End and Beaconsfield. At 403k
the route took one last climb. Again I gritted my teeth and found the
other two dropping back. I thought we were at the top of the climb but
it was a false summit. Suddenly I noticed that my tyres were making an
awful lot of noise. This was my 9th Audax of the year. Only 1 of the
previous 8 had been puncture free. I had 2 new tyres on and I was
convinced by now that this would be my second one without a puncture,
but now my front tyre was completely flat at 405k out of 407. I pondered
whether to stop. It had gone down so suddenly I didn't think there'd be
any point in just pumping it up. I didn't want to change the tube just a
mile or so from the finish so I decided to keep riding, and set myself
the challenge of staying ahead of my companions with a flat front tyre.
There was a steep, fast descent. The noise from the tyre seemed immense.
A bend. Slow right down to avoid rolling the tyre off the rim. A
junction. Stop. Get rolling again. The other 2 are 50 yards behind. The
last roundabout. The village hall. Through the car park and into the
finish still 50 yards ahead.
Sign the brevet card and hand it over. It's about 5:20. Chris Beynon
hands me a CD. He has taken photos along the ride and produced a CD for
each finisher already. He shows us the pictures on his laptop. There I
am leaving the control at Woodstock. I look amazingly old. Change the
tube, get some food, drink tea. Chat to Chris and Steve Abraham who
finished just after 1:00. No-one got rained on in the storm. People were
either ahead of it or behind it. Many were alarmed though by the
lightning. Nod off at a table. Wake with a start.
"There's a sleeping room at the back," says Chris.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't want to wake you."
There are still 19 riders out there somewhere. Alex and Nick arrive
about an hour behind John and I. Time to go. Hells bells! The front tyre
is flat again. Put a third tube in and set off for home. It's full day
now. I reach Uxbridge and I'm confused about the direction. I follow
signs for Heathrow but that turns out to be a motorway only route. I
head in the wrong direction and find myself in Hillingdon. Suddenly
there is Alex waiting at a bus stop with his bike. I stop to chat with
him. He's startled to see me, "You left ages ago, what happened?"
"Dozy. Can't navigate on my home ground without a route sheet."
I ride past the Hillingdon cycle circuit and pedal the last few miles
home. It's 9:00 on Sunday morning and the family are up and doing. The
journey home should have been 28k but stretched out to 44. That made the
total distance from my front door to my front door 479k. London to Wales
and back via Oxford with a circular tour of Uxbridge thrown in for good
measure. A whisker short of 300 miles, and a lazy, dozy Sunday ahead.
--
Dave...
Every time I see an adult on a bicycle, I no longer despair for the
future of the human race. - H. G. Wells