A ride into the unknown
Prologue
“You’re mad! I don’t see how any of that can be fun.”
This is my wife’s reaction to my suggestion that I’d like to
take part in a 309km (192 mile) audax, overnight, after a week at work, in
November. To be fair, it’s the same reaction I get from everyone I mention it
to (except for Col who I completed the Dirty Reiver with a couple of years ago,
so he gets it). When it becomes clear this will be everyone’s reaction, I just
stop mentioning it.
The run up to the event
Prep for the ride goes smoothly: the bike is running well
apart from a slightly heavy action to the front derailleur; I’ll be running
Komoot through my phone for navigation and all evidence suggests one powerbank
will be more than enough to keep it running for the duration (I take two) and
the same goes for the battery for my light (I take a spare of those as well).
Despite doubling up on the batteries, I’m determined not to
overpack for this ride as I have done on previous rides and ultramarathons. The
forecast for the ride is unseasonably warm and dry so I opt not to run my full
14l Restrap saddlebag and purchase a 2.5l from Decathlon. I had thought I might
need a full change of kit, but the forecast doesn’t change at all (if anything
it gets milder the closer I get to the ride) so I decide to only take liner
gloves, a spare base layer, my waterproof (the good one – see my previous blog
for context) and a couple of inner tubes. All of which fit into the smaller
saddlebag with room to spare.
The day arrives
Of course, the week leading up to the ride is rubbish:
issues at home and work (nothing major but enough to have an effect) and I get
to Friday morning having had way less sleep than I would have liked. However, I
have been off the alcohol and caffeine for the last two weeks so feel healthy
and alert despite the lack of sleep.
I make it through the day at work eating pretty much
everything I can get my hands on and keeping myself hydrated with plenty of
water and hydration tablets. I had expected the day to drag but it passes both
quickly and uneventfully and I’m soon on my way home.
A tea of beige food carb-loading (pasta and garlic bread)
and then off for a quick nap. I’m in bed for a couple of hours; I think one of
them is spent asleep which is better than nothing and more than I had expected
to get.
Packing the car takes no time at all (everything final
checked and laid out the night before) and I’m on the road to Bristol at 8pm.
In the car, I admit to myself that I am scared of this ride.
I honestly have no idea how this is going to play out; I’ve never ridden
overnight before, and I’ve never ridden anywhere near this distance. I have
absolutely no frame of reference for what could happen. ‘Fortunately’, the
drive to Bristol is two hours of dark, narrow B roads so it takes my mind off
the ‘what ifs’.
Bristol to Devizes (0 – 51km)
I arrive at the venue at 10pm, find somewhere nearby to
park, get kitted up and ride over to the start. It’s weird to see so many
people and bikes getting ready to ride at this time of night. There are bikes
and set ups of all different types but what does stick out to me is that I seem
to be riding a far more pared down rig in comparison to a lot of people. My one
front light, small top tube bag (full of flapjack), medium frame bag (batteries
and tools), smallish saddlebag and single rear light seems almost TdF-style next
to the full Carradice bags and lighting arrays that would put Blackpool in the
shade. I’m sure I’ll be fine.
Brevet card collected and stamped, and my wave is off at
22.35. We quickly make our way out of the venue and into night-time Bristol. A
fast-moving bunch forms and I grab on to the back of it hoping to be pulled
along for as far as I can manage. We weave through the town, the outskirts and
on to Bath at a fair clip and by Bath we are already passing riders from the
previous wave.
As we navigate through Bath’s Friday night revellers, I find
I have a stupid grin on my face, and it takes me a while to figure out why. I
feel naughty – mischievous. I feel the same way I did when I was a kid playing
out after dark with my torch and it’s great.
The group works well together through to the far side of
Bath, but we splinter on the Cat 4 slopes of Bathford Hill. Other than the chap
powering ahead on his fixie, I distance the rest of the group and then I’m
riding alone all the way to CP1 at Devizes. The roads are fast and undulating, there
is a gentle tailwind and I feel great. Before long, I pull into the car park at
the Moonrakers Pub and the first leg is done – 00.40 and 2hrs 5mins.
Devizes to Salisbury (51–91km)
I am Billy-No-Mates. I’m not riding with anyone else, and
I’ve never got my head around the concept of the ‘café ride’. If I’m out for a
ride, I’m out for a ride not a coffee and a cake. As such, I’m through CP1
pretty quickly – just there long enough for the fantastic volunteers stamping
cards and handing out flapjack to laugh at the irony of me driving all the way
from Bournemouth to Bristol just to ride back to Bournemouth and then to
Bristol.
The ‘Billy-No-Mates’ thing continues all the way from
Devizes to Salisbury. It’s a beautiful night; warm with easy-riding roads and
my head is a pleasant place to be. Eventually, there is a slight drizzle, but
it doesn’t put a dampener on my spirits (pardon the pun) and the kilometres
just disappear beneath my wheels. Even at 80km, when that heavy action on the
front derailleur goes one step further and stops shunting into the big ring, I
can be philosophical about it: 1, at least it’s not Di2 so I’m not stuck in the
big ring and 2, it’s God’s way of telling me to coast on the descents.
I hit the Salisbury checkpoint still feeling surprisingly
fresh, riding like a little kid with my jacket wide open – 02.28 and 3hrs
53mins.
Salisbury to Poole (91–153km)
Again, I’m through the checkpoint quickly then I’m onto
roads I know well. I stop at the 24 hour garage on the edge of the city to
refill the flapjacks in my top tube bag and top up on water. I can’t believe
the fact I’ve been up over 20 hours and still haven’t had a bout of ‘the
dozies’ but I want to be prepared so grab a can of full fat Red Bull and slip it
into my jacket pocket.
In the light, the Salisbury to Ringwood A338 is one of the
most boring roads going, but in the dark and slight drizzle I disappear inside
my head so it comes as something as a surprise when I look up to see the
Ringwood town sign appear in front of me.
Stopping in Ringwood to wipe off my glasses, I’m subsumed by
a fast-moving group and again I jump on the back hoping to be pulled along for
some easy miles.
The group works well together, maintaining a steady pace and
we’re soon though the country roads on the main drag to Christchurch. There is
some confusion about the information control at 133km: we’re looking for the
sign immediately after the Dorset County sign. The actual sign seems a strange
choice, but we note it down then spend the next 50 or so km asking anyone and
everyone if they got the same answer. They have, so we plough on.
For no discernible reason the group splinters as we get to
the cliff road at Southbourne and I end up riding past work on my own. Down the
road at Boscombe pier and it’s the run along the promenade all the way to
Sandbanks. This early in the morning, the only other people on the prom are the
guys in the JCBs grooming the sands so I’m able to clip along at a decent pace.
I fall in with a solo female rider (sorry, I didn’t catch her name – I am so
rubbish at small talk) and we cruise to the next checkpoint together. She’s not
certain when I dive down a tiny, unmade side road so I can sense her relief
when we turn into a driveway and there’s the Lilliput Sea Scout Hut all lit up,
warm and welcoming and thronging with riders – 05.19 and 6hrs 44mins.
Poole to Podimore Services (153-223km)
The breakfast and welcome at the Sea Scout hut are
excellent. Baked potato, sausages and beans goes down a treat. The hut is light
and warm, and I can easily see how time could be lost at this stop: the halfway
point and a good place to regroup if you set out with friends. I don’t have
that consideration, so I eat, fill my bottles, check the battery life on my
lights and phone (loads left) and set off once more. Only 23 minutes spent at
this CP – bonus.
The rain comes on quite heavily as I make my way through the
suburbs of Poole and for the first time in the ride my head starts to feel
tired. Legs are fine but the lack of sleep is just starting to niggle at the
back of my brain. This coincides with the start of what constitutes the hilly
section of the route. On a descent in the half-light of the early sunrise I
nearly miss a bend, lock up my back wheel on the slick road and slide
unnervingly towards the very solid-looking trees lining the verge. Fortunately,
I slow enough to make the turn and gingerly pick my way down the rest of the
descent.
At 7am with the sun up, and my legs starting to wane
slightly, I pull off the road and drink the Red Bull I’ve been nursing since
Salisbury (90km ago). The two weeks off caffeine has worked and the jolt to my
brain is pretty much instantaneous. Immediate mood change, and I’m raring to
go.
Real life tends not to do pathetic fallacy, but the sky is
clear, the sun is out, and my legs are full of energy as I climb the hills
around Milton Abbey School. The colours are glorious and, once again, my jacket
is open and I’m grinning like a little kid on Christmas Day. Over 190km done
and it’s still Type 1 fun.
The ride is so much fun, the kilometres disappear again, and
Podimore Services soon hove into sight – 09.04 and 10hrs 29mins.
Podimore to Yatton Railway Station (223-280km)
This is the longest I spend at any of the checkpoints (31
minutes to be precise). It’s an opportunity to eat real food (6 inch chicken
and bacon Sub) and completely restock my bottles and top tube bag. At the table
next to me is YouTube audax luminary, Richard Lake, which is a surprise as he
left Poole before me, but his video will later tell a tale of punctures and
slowly deflating tyres.
In the petrol station, I’m surprised when the chap on the
checkout asks if I want my receipt (my proof of attendance for my brevet card)
stamped with an earlier time. Apparently, other riders had actually asked for
that. I’m not sure how that works because your end time is your end time so
surely interim times are meaningless? Anyway, I stock up on flapjack and water
and grab another can of RedBull (just in case) and then I’m off.
The next section of the ride is pretty much pan flat. Komoot
tells me there was a climb just after the stop, but I have no memory of it. I’m
through some long, straight country roads without any drama and then I hit the
Strawberry Line cyclepath.
Blogs and vlogs had warned me this would be gravelly and
muddy and slow-going in places. However, it’s been dry all week with only some
light rain overnight so my 32mm Panaracer Gravelking slicks cope with the path
admirably. It is thick with fallen leaves so their slippery nature has to be
given due care and attention but other than that it is nice to be off the roads
for once. The only thing really slowing me down is the popularity of the path
for walkers and their dogs but it’s a shared path and I’m not racing so I’m
happy to slow down as and when it’s needed.
Eventually, I roll into Yatton Station at 280km, still
smiling and still surprised at how strong my legs are. I won’t be winning a
signpost sprint anytime soon but neither am I chewing my handlebars - 11.58 and 13hrs 23mins.
Yatton Station – Arrivee (280-309km)
As a break from all the flapjack, I grab a bag of cheese and onion crisps at the café where I get my brevet card stamped. They are quickly
downed, and I have one final check before the last push of 29km – bottles have
plenty of water and the powerbank feeding my mobile phone still has well over
40% left. The weather is still fine and warm and it’s a great day to be riding
but my brain knows the end is in sight. As much as I have enjoyed the ride and
am still enjoying the ride, it’s time for it to be done.
I’d like to say the final few kilometres are spent savouring
my achievement but that would be a lie. From the outskirts of the city, the
route winds its way through Bristol’s rat’s nest of cycle lanes and paths and I
spend every moment checking and rechecking my GPS. When you’ve cycled 300km,
you really don’t want to add any undue distance.
And with that, I start to recognise roads from my drive in
the night before and then I’m done: arrivee at 309km, 13.42 and 15hrs 7mins.
Arrivee
I check in with my brevet card and sit down for a plate of
vegan daal and rice. It’s a nice way to end the ride and just another example
of the fantastic job Will Pomeroy and his army of volunteers do to make this
experience as brilliant as has it been. Of course, me being me, I don’t hang
around for long and I’m soon packed up, in the car and on my way to my
accommodation for a much-needed shower and nap. My wife is the sensible one and
has booked me a room for the night so I’m not driving home having not slept in
over 32 hours.
Epilogue
As reflections go, this one isn’t the learning experience you might expect. Bearing in mind it was my first 300km and my first overnighter, everything went as well as I could have hoped:
- Other than my front derailleur giving up the ghost, the bike worked perfectly
- My lights, phone and powerbanks worked without fault
- I kept myself fed and watered all the way round even when I didn’t feel like it so never bonked
- Clothing was spot on, if a little warm at times but perfect when it was drizzling and a bit cold out of Poole
So, if you fancy a 300km audax, I can highly recommend the
Moonrakers and Sunseekers 300km. It’s brilliantly organised, incredibly
friendly, relatively flat for such a long route and riding through the night
makes way more sense than you might think. I might even go back again next
year.
The Stats
Distance: 309km
Elevation: 2136m
Moving Time: 13hrs 8mins
Total Time: 15hrs 7mins
Average Power: 124w
Normalized Power: 155w
Calories: 6208cal
