The Old 240 audax report

7:30 am on an overcast Sunday in August, at Sowerby Bridge. All I want to do is grab some food and get in to my little tent to instantly fall asleep. I had been riding for almost 26 hours, shivered like never before, ate way too many sausages and bacon, drunk more then 10 cups of tea, and departed from this very same place at 5:30 am the day before. I had finally, after two years wanting to do it, finished the Old 240 audax.



This event is one of those which comes with the must-do tag in Audax UK circles. It features super quiet roads, nice scenery, a challenging distance, and is organised by Chris Crossland, whose reputation amongst AUKs is second to none. A cheap ticket on a late Friday evening would place me in Halifax, and then Sowerby Bridge at 11 pm. Chris was waiting for me, and kindly offered to sleep indoors, but being a warm night and after having carried tent and sleeping bag with me, I declined and pitched in the dark. Alarm set for 4:45 am.

5 am, my tent is the little one at the very bottom. Sowerby Bridge, and Halifax in the background.

 I woke up to a warm morning, and was surprisingly fresh after only just about 5 hours sleep. I ate a couple of muffins, and crawled out of my tent to meet a few of the other riders who had also camped in Chris' garden. Being the usual faffer I am, I managed to get 5 min late to the start...so quickly grabbed my brevet card and joined a few of the other late starters on the High St. The little group I was in did not last long - most of them continued on straight whereas my GPS indicated a left turn up a hill. I was in for the hilly ride, the others were out on a 400 that headed out past Hull and back.

The ride promised plenty of climbing, somewhere between 5000 and 6500 m depending on what program you use to plot your route, and leaving Sowerby Bridge was just the very first hill of the day. I soon spotted a couple of riders ahead of me, and soon afterwards, the familiar faces of Justin and Joel from London. Together, we climbed up to around 450 m where we got to enjoy a beautiful sunrise. I love the good spirits and excitement of the start of a long ride!

Leaving Sowerby Bridge for the hills of the North

63 km into the ride we hit the first control, at Settle, where we decided to stop for some food. It was before 9 am, and we worried there wouldn't be much opened offering hot food. Even though my initial plans were not to stop at least until Dent (the second control, at 120 km) or even Alston, the welcome sight of a massive full English breakfast for £4.50 beckoned.

Sunrise

We left Settle with a full belly and pressed on to Dent, in the Yorkshire Dales National Park. The weather had behaved so far, and I was still hopeful that the forecasted heavy rain and wind moved East quicker than predicted. We rode the next section along relatively flat roads through scenic valleys. Once in Dent we had another tea and a slice of cake, and then the rain started. As we were retracing Dent, we passed Lars and Peter. Another rider, Nigel, sporting a Beverly jersey, was a little ahead of us, and we caught up to him.

Every time I come up North I always encounter some difficulties with the accents. But Nigel's was to be one of the hardest. Nigel's strategy was to stop little and not at cafés, certainly a wise idea when the (crap) weather approaches you and you want to save time. He also managed the whole route (or at least until he dropped us!) in short sleeve, despite torrential rain, high winds and low temperatures that we were yet to encounter.

From Dent we had a little climb up a pass called Hartside. I'd never heard of it before this ride, but Chris assured me it was very gentle and featured a few hairpins typical of Alpine climbs...so was quite keen to see it. When we hit that road, I realised we were in for a long and steady climb, where we averaged about 15 km/h. It was so gentle and pleasant, that I even managed to speak to Lucy on the phone (yes, I know, bad on me!) who was leaving for the US in the next half an hour. The weather was still warm and dry.

The last 3-4 km to the top of a pass were a whole different story. We had had a tailwind all the way from the start, but we were now turning into a very stiff headwind and torrential rain. It was here when I started to realise we were in for a tough ride. Atop the pass we were totally drenched, starting to shiver and the prospects of a quick descent into Alston did not look too appealing. My glasses were completely covered in water, so I could not see much either. Justin and Joel stopped at the top of the pass, where there was a conveniently located café, to warm up and eat something. They had been feeling a bit weak, surely due to the lack of food intake earlier on in the ride, so we had a quick break before heading out into wild.

Hartside pass, taken from drivingroads.co.uk (my camera was safely store in a dry bag!)

I really did not want to stop, cool off, and then go down the hill. On the other hand, I could not see much with my glasses all fogged up, so took the opportunity to dry them and somewhat warm up a bit. When we opened to cafés door it wasn't pleasant: strong winds, and horizontal rain to accompany us. I just wanted to get down to the valley, where I hoped for warmer temperatures and less rain, so started to pedal down the hill.

Luckily, the descent was very gradual and did not pick up much speed. The brakes did not work well, so that was another advantage. The tarmac was good also, which prevented unnecessary scary moments avoiding potholes. Alston was only a few km down...I was also starting to get very hungry, so was really desperate to get there.

Chris had suggested another café in Alston, but were a bit late for it - it was close to 5 pm. Fortunately, the owner must have felt sorry about us, and let us in. We made a big mess, spreading tons of rain water all over the place, but he was only too happy to serve us - he had been a suggested control of the Old 240 for many years and was keen to show us previous years signs. Even though I fancied pizza--the quirks of long distance riding--the café only offered cumbrian sausage, eggs and chips, which we were quick to order. I attempted to communicate my missery to Lucy, but there was no signal at the café, and was pouring with rain outside.

Cumbrian sausage (from foodonabudget.com)

The prospect of another 220 km in the rain and wind started not to appeal that much. We started to consider packing, and look at maps and asked for nearby stations - it did not seem particulary easy to pack at this place, so there wasn't many options left but to carry on. My shivering started to kick in as soon as I went out to get the bike ready, and was so bad that I had difficulties standing up. Justin and Joel felt the same, so I suggested we got going quickly to warm up, which seemed to work. No packing for now, and the forecast said thunderstoms were to clear in a couple of hours, so we risked it.

Alston had some cobbles up a hill, which did the trick and got me warmed. The next big climb of the day was the infamous Yad Moss, rising up to 600 m. The rain eased a bit, but never stopped. Before we even noticed, we were once again climbing steadily up Yad Moss, in some sort of light rain that gets you completely wet without much bother.

Getting up to the top was good, but again were faced with shivers, fogged up glasses, and a scary descent ahead. It was so bad that I asked Joel to go in front of me to signal potholes. My visibility was reduced to maybe 25%, it was just guess work and try to follow the Joel's bike in front of me. Joel's rain jacket had not been up for the torrential rain we were enduring, and he was feeling it. On the way down the hill, we saw a cozy pub that advertised rooms, food, and beer.

Top of Yad moss, in the winter that is. Only sky lift in England apparently...
I couldn't take any photos as it pouring with rain

In no time we three got in, ordered hot drinks, and cuddled up to a fire. This was mid August, and all I could think now was the ridiculousness of the situation. People stared at us with confused faces, which did not help when we mentioned our departure time, distance covered, and distance yet to be covered. Fortunately though, the landlord was a keen cyclist himself, only just getting to know audaxing, and had seen the LEL riders come through this very same place a few weeks ago. He checked the forecast for us, distances to nearby train stations, and offered some conversation.

Half an hour later, still wet, but much warmer, Justin and I headed back out into the first spells of sunshine. Joel had decided to stay at the pub, get a room, and set off in the early morning for a nearby train station to catch a train back to the start. I was very tempted to do the same, but then thought of the difficulties of getting back, the extra expense, and complications. We were still doing ok with time, so put our heads down and carried on with the descent.

The following section was very pleasant, in perfect temperatures, no rain, and beautiful roads. Barnard Castle was the next (and possibly last) place where we could stock up with food for the overnight section, and so we stopped at the local Co-Op. Rain had returned though, but it was light and because of the low altitude, it was not too bad.

Barnard Castle as we saw it (from manorhousecottage.com)

We left Barnard Castle at around 8-9 pm, with our saddle bags full of food, and into the dark. I was feeling a bit tired and thoughts of getting some sleep started to appeal. Having Justin company helped keep me more awake, so we made good progress. We went through and info control near Darlington, and then headed back into the Dales. We caught up with Lars, who, along with us, was the lantern rouge of the event.

The A684 was a pleasant road to do at this time of the night, despite the light rain. It was well past midnight, and there was no traffic, so we had it all to ourselves. We then took Ellers Lane, where apparently we would face another steep hill past Kidstones. The sound of the river running along it made for a unique experience. Once we cycled past the last information control, we hit the hill, which we were only able to feel and barely see at night. It was a long stretch of straight road, that only increased in steepness as we made progress on it. Justin (on fixed wheel) had to walk some parts of it, so I just disappeared into the night using my lowest gear of 30-27. Even then, it was quite hard work.

Half way through the last bit of hill I stopped to eat a banana. It was approaching 3:30 am when a random car went the opposite direction. My bright lights surely made him stop, as I am sure he wasn't expecting such thing at that time of the light, but the driver stopped by me and asked if everything was ok. I assured him I was good, and he carried on. Justin caught up to me shortly after that.

The descent was interesting, very steep and narrow, but luckily the rain had finally stopped, so I could get decent braking power. Even though I was feeling quite energetic and my sleepiness moments were a thing of the (recent) past, Justin needed a nap just as we finished our descent. Lucy and I have been joking about the well known "audax hotel" term by which audaxers define the bus shelters that are scattered around the UK. They do provide a decent shelter apparently, most important when it is raining, but also, sometimes, provide even a bench. In almost two years of audaxing, I had yet to try one of these and right now seemed the appropriate time. I could do with a nap also, so we quickly pulled into a luxury bus shelter, with a toilet block attached to it, in Threshfield We set the alarm for 5 am if I recall correctly, so a bit over 30 min.

Stopping at a pub in the middle of the night to check the routesheet

I carefully laid all my items around me, and quickly fell asleep to be woken up by my mobile phone's alarm. Pressed the snooze, and got another 15 min, after which we felt ready to go. Still dark, but spirits were high again, and we had a bit over an hour buffer time. Lars, the other rider behind us, went past us at some point, but we all got reunited at the next info control and then shortly after that at the garage control in Gargrave.

A very expensive coffee did the trick, and so we set off for the last stage of the event, in daylight, while Lars stayed indoors for a little longer to rest. The remaining km of the route promised to be relatively easy, some on major roads which, at this time of the morning, were totally empty, so we made good progress. Once back on the same bits of road we started some 22 hours earlier, I felt I was going to finally achieve my first and only 400 km ride of the year. We were still on time, with about 1.5 h to spare, so we took it easy and made sure we ate our provisions every now and then. With less than 15 km to go I relaxed and assumed we would be back in the comforts of Chris' house and my tent very shortly...but I was wrong.

Getting back to Halifax involved some ridiculously hilly sections over the ridge to the North of the town. One of them looked seriously unpassable after so many km, but I put all my efforts into it and succeeded. As of today I haven't walked any hills on the road bike in the UK - not sure if something to be proud of or not, as on many occasions people have walked them faster!

The steep hill at the end, a sting in the tail as they call it...

The downhill into Halifax was terrifying to say the least. My rims were covered in grit from the pouring conditions we had endured during the last 12 hours, and I could feel the brake pads being reduced significantly from the start. I was glad it wasn't raining though, as otherwise I would have had some difficulties slowing myself down on some of the sections...disc brakes are called for in wet weather and steep downhills!

Seeing the cobbles leading up to Chris' house was a welcome sight. We had completed the Old 240, and some warm food was awaiting us, along with tales from other riders on our and the Hull event. Apparently we had the rain, but they had the headwinds. I am not sure if I would have preferred the wind or not, but this had surely been a tough ride, with a handful of times where I would have packed had the getting back to Halifax in the morning had been easy.

After a couple of hours of siesta in the tent, with more warm rain, I set off for the station and back to London. The weather had been rubbish, and I had been colder than I even remember in the UK, and this was in August. The route was fantastic though, and I really would like to make a return to the Dales sometime in the future. Chris' organisation had been great even though this was a basic event, with nearly no facilities other than his house at the start and end. The company made this ride a lot easier, no doubt, so thanks Justin, Joel, Lars and all the others that we met on the ride for that.

The stats were as below:

Not that bad, considering we stopped for more than 5 hours!

Memories of the Dunwich Dynamo 2013

The sense of excitement that builds throughout the day on Saturday as you do your final preparations. The first glimpse of other Dynamo riders as you exit the canal at Broadway Market. The happiness of meeting new friends and friends-of-friends amongst the thousands of cyclists assembled at London Fields. The looks of disbelief on the faces of pedestrians as you pedal out of London. The coolest feeling when a perfect stranger rides up to you and says, "Machacas on Wheels!"

The increasing intensity of hundreds blinking red lights as the sun starts to set. The swift breeze as a set of fast club riders overtake you. The short-sighted pleasure of going a bit faster than you probably should so early in the ride. The unusual privilege of getting to ride two-abreast on a major road. The echoes of voices of all accents shouting "Car!" when one approaches. The worried feeling that comes after yawning when it isn't even midnight yet.

The panic of coming around a bend and having to stop suddenly because hundreds of cyclists are blocking the road outside the pub. The taste of peanut M&Ms at the moment when you can't imagine anything more delicious. The feeling of adventure as you set off into proper night riding in the countryside.

The sound of happy cyclists chatting all around you. The confusion of hundreds of cyclists queueing to walk their bikes through a narrow bit of roadworks. The sound of cleated shoes shuffling on plywood ramps over the makeshift bridge. The comfort of knowing the halfway stop is only just on the other side of the queue.

The utter ridiculousness of losing one of your ride companions when they miss the turnoff for the feed stop. The sight of hundreds of cycles and cyclists lying on the ground of the carpark. The restorative effect of a hot, caffinated beverage. The excitement of seeing "sunrise in 2 hours 24 minutes" on the GPS screen.

The sight of the sun rising ahead of you as you pedal into the dawn. The smell of bacon being cooked up by an enterprising local resident. The warm familiarity of visiting Needham Lake in the early morning hours. The increasingly tired looks on your fellow riders faces. The serendipity of coming across the free tea and coffee stand just when you start to get seriously worried about your ability to stay awake.

The final push into Dunwich through green fields and quiet lanes. The feeling of a light summer shower on your forearms. The joy of arriving into Dunwich with someone who has done it for the first time. The smugness of getting out your camp stove and cooking up bacon baps on the beach. The unfairness that it is slightly too cold to enjoy a morning on the beach. The smile that creeps accross your face when you see the thousands of other people who have done the same crazy thing with their Saturday night.

Ride report: The New Forest 200 audax (Permanent version)

Audax is all about self-sufficiency, and it also involves (or can involve) lonely sections. On calendar events (i.e. rides that are properly organised and attract a good number of people) it is easy to hook up with other riders and have a social ride, if you want to.

One of this years aims (or well, continuation of!) is to get a "Randonneur Round the Year" award. You can get it as long as you register a ride of 200 or more km a month, for twelve consecutive months. Nothing too challenging one might think, but with the winter colder months coming up ahead of us, I am not too sure I will manage.

I could not find a suitable ride for November, so I screened the "permanent" rides on the AUK website. These rides are put up by local people and can be ridden any day of the year. Lucy has already given up on the idea of longer rides in the colder months, so off I was, for the first time on a 200 km ride, on my own.

One of the rides looked appealing: the New Forest 200 km. We've already been in the New Forest, though on mountain bikes, and quite enjoyed the flatness of it. I'd heard good things about the lanes over there, particularly off the busy summer months. At 5:30 am, on a Saturday, I found myself on a quiet train headed for the southwest coast of the UK. To my surprise, there was another audax guy on this service, heading somewhere in the southwest as well.

London, 5:15 am

The weather had been quite promising all week, yet the latest forecasts predicted light rain all morning, clearing up by mid afternoon. Temperatures around 10 degrees C, so not too cold for this time of the year. By 7:20 am I got my receipt and headed East towards Lepe Beach.

The first 20 km of the ride were on quiet lanes, very easy going and helped by an slight tailwind. My stomach had been playing up already, and I was relieved to find a toilet by the deserted beach. The views of the Isle of Wight were quite nice, as was seeing the sea.

Leafy lanes at the start of the ride

The Isle of Wight in the background from Lepe Beach

I ate some snacks and retraced my steps back into the depths of the forest, heading North. The roads were quite nice and still quiet, yet at some point I managed to go on the wrong section of A road (A326) which was not pleasant at that time of the morning, with plenty of white vans and heavy goods vehicles. After I left that road, it all became nice and quiet again, although got busier with the infamous New Forest wild ponies. 

The bloody ponies, although cute and all that, blocked off the roads on a number of occasions, and I had to wait patiently behind them. They did not seem to be bothered at all by either me or other vehicles. I had to go off road a couple of times, and with the muddiness of the autumn, my skinny tyres got clogged up with mud which needed clearing a few times.

Waiting for the ponies to decide what to do and where to go

At Ashurst I went through one of many information controls (i.e. obligatory passing points to prove you did not take shortcuts), and soon afterwards I made my way down South towards Lymington. The roads were very pleasant and had good tarmac, yet appeared a bit more lumpy that I had anticipated.

Nice isn't it?

When going off the main roads, which were quiet past lunch time, you were often presented with not only ponies, but fords (luckily dried!) and plenty of cattle grids. I had read many reports on rides through the forest in heavy rain and massive floods, and I could only imagine how bad that would be when I saw some of the signs by the fords...

Can it actually get that bad?

Once in Lymington, I headed briefly into the High Street for a receipt to use as proof of passage. While having a much needed sugary coffee and cake, in true British style, lots of locals asked me where I was headed, about my GPS, why so many flashing lights and so on. The usual stuff. Luckily no one was asking how many miles I had planned for the day!

From Lymington, it was a long and windy way, first to the West of the park, then up North through Ringwood and eventually Cranborne. It was much more ups and downs here. As I had not had any proper food since I left home, I started to feel tired and hungry and looked forward to eating something hot at Cranborne. I was keeping a close eye on my watch, as I had a train back to London at a fixed time in the evening, that I could not miss. A flat tyre, the first time ever on a audax, added to my frustration and increased the need of getting somewhere with hot food. Just after 2:30 pm I got to Cranborne and headed straight away to the Garden Centre, the suggested control...at 160 km into the ride. Once I got there I had the feeling they were not serving food (everyone was having tea!) and this was confirmed by the waitress. It really was not my place either - it seemed way too overpriced and the crowd was at least twice my age and in nice clothes - not smelly lycra. 

Nice lanes to Cranborne

I retraced back to Cranborne High street and controlled at the local grocery shop, where I got a plain baguette, a can of coke and some gross crisps. It was past 3:30 pm by the time I got back on to the bike. The GPS indicated sunset in less than 45 min, so I turned a few of my lights on for enhanced visibility.

The lanes back through the forest were really nice, and as the sun was coming down, I enjoyed one of the best sunsets I've experienced in the UK. It was still relatively mild, clear skies, and no traffic at all. Just me, the bike and the lights. The colours were spectacular, but the pictures do not do justice. I recommend everyone to cycle at dusk on a clear day - it is the best time of the day for riding in my opinion.

Lights on - into night riding mode

It cannot get much better than this!

With 25 km to the finish, I got my last info control, this time in another post box. I was happy I had filled all the controls now - all I had to do was ride leasurely back to Brockenhurst for my train back to the Smoke, into the night.

Last info control, sunset in the background

Funny sign

I pulled into the finish line with one hour to spare before my train was due, so headed to a pub for some food and a pint of local ale. It had been a superb ride with plenty of nice lanes and light traffic. Much lumpier than I had anticipated, yet by no means hilly.

I may make a return to this area sometime soon - perhaps throwing in a bit of wild-camping as well, with a crossing over to the Isle of Wight maybe?

The stats were as below.

Build us an Ark!: Friday Night Ride to Whitstable

Alberto and I are fond of saying "never cancel a ride because of the forecast." Certainly not in the UK. On Friday, we learned that sometimes weather forecasts can be very accurate.

Last summer, Friday Night Rides to the Coast was one of our favourite ways to spend an evening. This year, we had only managed one FNRttC, way back in March, so when the Whitstable ride came up and we didn't have other plans, we signed up right away.

Earlier in the week, the weather forecast was looking iffy. But this is England, forecasts change by the hour, so we remained optimistic. But the forecast never improved. Still, last summer Alberto backed out of a ride to Whitstable in which heavy rain was forecast, and then later heard that they hadn't seen even a drop. We decided not to back out. On the way home from work on Friday evening, it had already started to rain and we both got soaked. We considered staying home, but pure stubbornness led us to pull on our waterproofs and leave home at 11:20pm, heading for Hyde Park Corner.

We arrived to see a smaller than usual band of cyclists. Everyone had a different take on exactly how many layers, and how much waterproofing, was necessary. We each had on long-sleeved base layers, long-sleeved jerseys, and our waterproof jackets (I had a wool buff as well). On the bottom we just sported cycling tights (longs). We wore non-waterpoof socks, overshoes, and non-waterproof gloves. In Alberto's pannier we carried our Sealskinz waterproof socks, waterproof gloves (which we had deemed to warm to wear at first), and a set of civilian clothes to change into in Whitstable, where we would be visiting a friend. It turned out to be a relatively good choice of clothing, though I regretted not wearing waterproof trousers as well.

Intrepid cyclists gather beneath the arch at Hyde Park Corner

We set off through the streets of London, as usual, and headed out to the southeast, via Surrey Quays and Greenwich. Twice in the suburbs of greater London we encountered some drunk kids who thought it would be fun to run around in the road in front of us, which wasn't very fun. We had to stop multiple times for members of the group who had punctured, not a surprise given the wet conditions. It wasn't a particularly cold night, but since all of us were quickly drenched, each time we stopped the cold started to seep in.

Riding out through southeast London is relatively urban for a long time, giving us the feeling that we were still within striking distance of home. Alberto and I entertained a few thoughts of turning around, but again, we were just too stubborn. So we just kept going.

On the way into Strood my back light became waterlogged and started spontaneously switching between its many flashing modes -- or perhaps it even invented new ones. Apparently this was very annoying to ride behind, as I noticed large gaps in the group forming behind me. Fortunately I had a second back light that I was able to switch to in Strood so as not to annoy my companions for the rest of the journey.

The halfway stop in Strood was like a refugee camp. As we arrived, a queue formed to get into the building as each cyclist stopped to squeeze water out of their gloves and clothing before stepping through the threshold. We took off most of our out items and strew them over every available surface. We ate our sandwiches, cakes, and tea, and Simon, the ride leader, asked for a show of hands as to who would be continuing on. About ten of the group decided to ride to the station in Rochester, a mere 2km away, and catch a train back to London. Part of me wanted to join them, but another part of me knew I wanted to finish this ride. After more than four hours in the rain, to go home then would leave me having wasted a night (and day as I'd be exhausted) on a miserable ride. But if I continued on, I knew I could at least have the satisfaction of finishing to balance out the misery of the experience. So on we went, having changed into our dry gloves after the stop (but saving our dry socks for the finish!).

The ride started to come into its own after Strood, with lovely lanes and, as the sun evenually started to come up, lovely views of the Thames estuary. We trudged on, through puddles several inches deep and up a few welcome hills which got our temperatures up a bit. Soon we were closing in on Whitstable, just as the clouds began to clear. When we reached our destination, a cafe by the waterside, we were greeted with sunshine.

Clouds breaking up as we reach our destination.

After a quick hot drink with the group, we made our way to Alberto's friend Carol's house. As we changed into dry clothes, Carol made breakfast. I don't think I've ever been so well taken care of or so grateful for someone's hospitality. We had always planned to visit Carol when we arrived in Whitstable, we just didn't know how much we'd appreciate it once we got there! A few hours later, and after a quick exploration of the harbor, we caught the train back to sunny London. Had we waited until morning, we could have enjoyed a beautiful sunny day on the bikes. But then we wouldn't have had such a story to tell!

Blue skies a few hours later as we explore Whitstable's harbor

Still smiling after all that rain!

Harbor in the sunshine

Ride report: Hereward the Wake 300 (via Ireland!)

Friday July 6th and I found myself on a commuter train full of suits out of central London heading for Bishop's Stortford. What a complicated name for a town, even worse to pronounce if you are Spanish! I was about to embark on yet another loooong (overnight) ride. On this occasion also, with a night time start. The distance to cover, something in excess of 300 km.



The 15 km or so from the station to the start in Great Dunmow were not the most pleasant, with plenty of traffic due to the proximity of the area to Stansted Airport. But the roads were pretty well surfaced and I arrived with plenty of time to spare. At the car park the usual sight of people assembling their bikes, chatting, getting the brevet cards etc, and a very pleasant sunset with warm temperatures to allow shorts and short-sleeves.

Sunset in Essex before the off. 8:45 pm

At 9:01 pm, with British punctuality, the town crier (dressed in the most appropriate clothes) gave a speech and let us go. It certainly was the most special off for an Audax I have been to.

19 of us and the town crier

The first 50 something km to Cambridge were ridden in almost no time. Despite trying not to push very hard (I thought - I still have 300 km ahead of me!) I found myself at the front with a guy sporting a PBP vest (the Paris-Brest-Paris official), a woman with a time trial bike and bigger calves than mine, and Nick with proper audax gear (i.e. steel frame, bar bag and all that). The four of us made very good progress and managed to average nearly 29 km/h. The time trial woman was doing this as her very first audax, and funnily enough, was fluent in Spanish. So there I found myself having an interesting chat in Spanish, on a warm Friday night. This is lots of fun! Getting into Cambridge, being a Friday night, was sort of amusing, but could not stick around for long. Got our ATM receipt and carried on.

The next section was also very flat and I could feel a bit of tailwind pushing us up North towards Peterborough. At some point, time trial woman and PBP guy shot off and so I rode with Nick until the next control. Together we made good progress at a more relaxed pace, yet managed to keep the average pretty high for my standards, completing more than 100 km in less than 3h 30 min. Quite impressed at myself, although I think the wind helped a lot!

At the Peterborough control we saw PBP guy and time trial woman again, but they left minutes after our arrival, and we would not see them again. Ate a chocolate bar and drunk an orange juice to obtain the precious receipt. The roads were completely empty at this point, and I decided to (finally, being almost 1 am) put knee and arm warmers on. Still, quite amazed at the British summer, so far so good. 

Heading out of Peterborough, we took the lanes again. Mist had settled down in the area and made the whole thing very atmospheric as Nick described. The terrain became more rolling, and we could now feel not only the little hills, but also the headwind. The average dropped a bit, but we were still in good spirits. It was good to have Nick as a companion, as so far I had never ridden on my own at night. Also, it meant some conversation in the darker hours, when you feel more sleepy. Luckily, despite the lack of caffeine intake thus far, I was quite awake. However, the stomach was starting to make funny noises and I could feel problems coming. At some point they became so bad that I had to tell Nick to carry on. I stopped a few times to recover, feeling weaker and weaker every time. Eventually, I sort of felt a bit better and pressed on on my own. This was at 140 km into the ride.

For the next 60 km I would ride solo, through the night. There has to be a first time for everything, so here I was in the countryside enjoying the misty, wet roads of Bedfordshire. But I was having a great time to my surprise, and really enjoyed my solo time. Got to see the sunrise and felt obliged to take some pictures

The sun is about to rise. 4:00 am, somewhere in Bedfordshire

I kept on riding, and stopping every time stomach problems came back, until the third control at Newport Pagnell. I was very much looking forward to getting some hot food and drink here, but realised they only opened the services proper at 6:00 am, and it was 5:00 am. Luckily I had been carrying my own pasta salad (being inspired by Javier's reports on diariodeunbiciorejon) just in case I could not find palatable/convenient food. Also, because I am not new to an upset stomach on long rides, and I thought home-made stuff was a safer bet should problems arise). Made yet another visit to the toilets, and ate half of the pasta.

While waiting, another rider arrived. It was Bruce, who I had seen sleeping some km earlier in true audax style, in a bus shelter. He had been feeling very sleepy and decided to go for a 20 min nap. After some chatting I felt a lot better and said good bye to him.

The roads were still super quiet, and I was again on my own. Felt quite energetic, so tried to press on a bit. I had noticed that the routesheet was not fully accurate with respect to the km markings and meant the ride will be 15 over the proposed km. Not a big deal I thought, but I was probably not going to make it under 15 h (my quickest 300, the Dean) anyway, so slowed down a bit and stopped every now and then for pictures, food and water.

Empty roads. Silly o'clock.

Nice isn't it?

I was not sleep deprived, but started to see signs indicating Ireland 3/4 of a mille to go. I knew I was travelling West and long distances, but not as far as Ireland! Yep, there's an Ireland, England. 

I don't appear too convinced

Not far from Ireland I stopped for some more food. Stomach problems had gone for now, so I decided to get a coffee and a baguette at the Biggleswade control. Sat down on the sun and relaxed for a bit. By then Bruce had also arrived, and we chatted for a while. Not sure if because I had been riding for very long or what, but he did not seem to understand much of what I was saying, and I was finding it quite frustrating! I think my accent deteriorates significantly when riding and especially when tired. But could not do much else other than repeating...

More riders arrived, and I had to visit the toiled one more time. It would be the last, luckily. Bruce set off, and I followed him shortly afterwards. The roads were still quiet. Started to see quite a lot of club riders, and even another guy riding a Canyon. He had a top end bike, but despite his efforts to stick to my wheel, he could not catch up. I was trying to keep an steady pace, but felt that it would be nice to talk bikes with him. After I slowed down and chatted a bit, I found out he was on his way to a club ride, to which I was kindly invited. I had to decline though. Told him that I had been riding since 9 pm and for some 280 km, to which he replied: in two days right? - No, since yesterday. Non-stop. Oh, so you may want to take it easy then - he said. He was quite right!

I then caught up with Bruce. He was a very experienced audaxer, having just ridden the Mille Alba up in Scotland, a 1000 km ride in the most precarious of the Scottish weathers. Together we made good progress to the last control in Reed, at a "biker's" cafe. But bikes of the motorised type. Grabbed a quick drink and set off again, for the last 50 km. It was good having Bruce as a companion, it made the last section seem a lot easier. Also, got good advice regarding rides and cycling clubs in London, as well as some funny memories of his audax outings. 

The weather had been fantastic so far, but of course, we had to get some rain, this being the rainiest July in recent years. I had just got a text from Lucy saying that rain was super heavy in London, so I guess we would get it sometime soon. I was right, and it hit us with no time for putting the water proofs on. The roads became so slippery that when I tried to stop to put the rain gear on, I slipped off. Not harm or injury, but it was such a stupid fall.

With non-stop heavy downpours we managed to get back to Great Dunmow by 12:30 pm. Tom and his son, who had organised the ride, greeted us with a bacon/sausage/egg/onion rolls, which I ate in milliseconds. After some more chatting I was ready to head back to the Smoke.

Back at HQ

All in all a very good ride despite my stomach problems. Home by 3 pm having ridden for more than 360 km since leaving work on Friday...not too bad is it? My fastest ever 100, and 200 km distances, and a good rolling average for such a long ride. A 9 pm start means very little traffic, sunrise and sunset all in one go. Very nice scenery in the morning hours. And very good company. Definitely on my list for 2013, perhaps as training for London-Edinburgh-London (or Madrid-Gijón-Madrid, or even both?). Who knows. Being caught by the bug, as the veterans call it.

The stats for the day:

Ride report: Dunwich Dynamo XX

It is nearly a year ago when we first joined the infamous Dunwich Dynamo peloton from London Fields, in central London, to Dunwich in the Suffolk Coast. This year the ride had been proposed a bit earlier than last year to avoid clashing with the Olympics.

It was also the first time I was going to attempt a ride of more than 130 km on my Long Haul Trucker, with a yet unbroken-in saddle. A lot to fear, maybe, but surely would add a bit of spice to an otherwise easy and flat ride to the coast.

Saturday evening and we, as always, are rushing to get things done on time. Pack loads of food, drink, check bikes, lights, clothing, weather forecast, routes, batteries, spares, and again, weather forecasts. The night promised to be very pleasant, with temperatures above 10C throughout and a tailwind all the way to the beach. Lovely, especially when comparing with last years predictions of rain (which never turned out to be true though!).

Relaxed atmosphere before the off

At 8:15 pm we made an appearance in the park, where we met our companion for the night, Dan, on his very first night ride. People were chilling on the grass, drinking beer, and some were already gone or about to go. We took things easy, chatted a bit and waited until almost 9 pm for the off, tagging along with a large group of relaxed cyclists. The fast boys had either departed already, or were leaving it till the end. Still, quite do not get why some folk take this really nice ride as if it was a race. There were large groups of club riders in their club gear and sporting featherlight bikes, with no more than a tiny saddlebag attach to it. I, on the contrary, was carrying a >15 kg bike and two half-full panniers, totalling more than 25 kg. There really is no rush in getting to the beach as it is usually freezing at silly o'clock and I rather have a siesta when it is nice and warm.


By 9 pm we were already battling our way through traffic to get out of Hackney. Heading North East we soon got on the road leading to Epping Forest. I grabbed a coke here as was already feeling tired and sleepy after a busy week with not much sleep. We re-joined the train of riders and made good progress, crossing the M25 still in (some sort of) daylight.

Audaxer (left) meets Mario Bros

Through Epping Forest

While passing through the town of Epping, we got the usual cheers from the drunk locals. Exactly the same thing as last year! It is fun though. Shortly after Epping, there's the first pub stop, or rather, where people stop to drink/eat something before the pubs start to shut.

Crazy number of cyclists going through

From here the ride become more laney, and our recollection from last year was that the field spread all over and you do not feel a part of large group anymore, seeing the occasional cyclist every now and then. However, this year, numbers have increased quite a lot, and we were surrounded by other cyclists throughout the ride.

Proper night time cycling it was now. Very few motorised traffic, and the lanes became ours, with the exception of a few random drunkards that we saw on the roads, in the dark, going who knows where. We made progress passing through familiar Essex towns, and eventually got to the half way stop in Sibble Hendigham by 2 am. As expected, it was packed with cyclists, with queues that were completely off-putting for getting food. Luckily we had brought our own food, and it was still relatively warm, so ate our sandwiches happily while observing others pulling in and out.

All types of bikes, at the half way stop

Still another 90 km or so to go. Sunrise scheduled for 4 am, so very little left of night riding and clear skies were to be expected after we left. Still, plenty of us on the road. I was feeling great - all the night riding done up until now seemed to have a positive effect. Also Lucy was in very good spirits, and so was Dan, who was doing very well for his first night excursion - and was clearly capable of going much faster than us if he had wanted to.

Sunrise in the countryside

Lucy in good spirits

50 km or so to the coast we came across the famous bacon butties stop, in someone's garden. We too stopped here last year, both feeling completely knackered and in much need of a rest. This time though, we knew what to expect and made a quick incursion into the garden for some hot food and a coffee. Dan was being hit by the sleep deprivation bug, so he was happy to get some caffeine in. Pop up stops are all over the place now - people have realised there's potential for business here! The owners of this garden had also set up a tent where people seemed to be having naps in their cozy sleeping bags! Had it been cold and rainy I would not have minded, but it was time to go hit the roads again for the last stretch to the beach.

Bacon roll and coffee stop

Wheat fields and sunshine

The final km to the beach were rather nice, pootling around with others at a very relaxed pace. You could notice the type of bike and rider at this point. Most of us carrying panniers, heavy bikes, and lots of them not even wearing cycling-specific clothes. But it does not matter, this ride accommodates everyone. Some of the faster guys were already heading back home, having probably reached the beach by 4 am or so.

Lucy enjoying the final kms

Lucy & Dan followed by many others

The final bit into the beach is always very pleasurable as it passes through the Dunwich Heath. A bit of gentle up and downs, the famous sign to Dunwich, and we were there!

Final lanes

Made it!

Rolling into the beach, although not as spectacular as the very first time you do this ride, is always a highlight. A field packed with sleeping cyclists is something that we cannot get to see everyday and something that will certainly impress anyone. It was 8:30 am.

Finding a clear spot for a snooze

The beach full of tired bodies

After we found a clear space and ate some of our snacks, we went for a well-deserved siesta. For most, this is the end of a very long night on the saddle. Plenty of coaches organised by the Southwark Cyclists would take them back to London, but we found this to be extremely stressful last year. Also, prices had gone up, and the bikes got some abuse being loaded onto the trucks last year. For said reasons, we had decided to return by train, via Diss, some 40 km East of Dunwich.

Some folk came very well prepared!

Siesta time!

All in all, it was an excellent ride with great and warmer weather than last years. Something I would suggest all people to do at least once. Everyone gets to the beach, on all sorts of bike and styles. It was also the first time I had taken the tourer (>25 kg of weight!) on a >200 km ride, and it felt so comfortable, despite slowing me down quite considerably on the hills! The brooks saddle seems to be breaking in and had no sores at the end of the day

Bring on Dunwich Dynamo 2013!!!