Remember the dark days of the Covid-19 pandemic, when we couldn’t enjoy once everyday pleasures like going to a cafe? During the glorious spring of 2020, I cherished my regular bike rides – an opportunity to keep sane during crazy times. But I really missed my cafe stops, so I bought a Klean Kanteen flask so I could take a hot drink with me.
The photo above shows my tea stop by the Thames in Maidenhead, with its convenient bench, in June 2020. Another regular spot was Dorney Common on the road to Eton Wick near Windsor.
My most ambitious ride that summer was to Ivinghoe Beacon. After the steep climb from the B489 Tring-Dunstable road I savoured the view over the downs and across to the white lion that has guarded the hillside on which Whipsnade Zoo stands since 1933. Thanks to my Klean Kanteen flask I was able to enjoy a couple of mugs of hot tea with my picnic. The Ordnance Survey picnic ruck, featuring Bannau Brycheiniog (the Brecon Beacons) may have been geographically out of place!
Four years on, we no longer have to take our beverages with us: the cafes we missed during the pandemic lockdowns have long since reopened. But sometimes my cycling routes pass through cafe-free territory, and so on Saturday, for the first time in several years, I retrieved the Klean Kanteen flask from the cupboard and took it with me on a 62 mile ride through Buckinghamshire, Hertfordshire and Bedfordshire, revisiting Ivinghoe on the way home. (Part of the ride followed Jack Thurston’s Chiltern Rendezvous route from Lost Lanes South.)
It was an unseasonably cold and windy day, and by the time I stopped at the entrance to Whipsnade Zoo I was gasping for a cuppa. I felt nostalgic seeing the families with small children, remembering visits with Owen when he was little. (“My favourite animals? The train and the bus.”) I filled my Restrap enamel mug with tea, but to my disappointment the drink was only luke-warm.
When I got home, I tested the flask to see if I’d unwittingly not fully boiled the kettle before the ride, but no – the flask no longer kept its contents hot. My pandemic ride-saver was destined for the recycling bin. But it served my well during those extraordinary times in 2020 and 2021. I’ll end this post with images from April 2021. I had a tea stop on Dorney Common before cycling on to Windsor to witness the media reporting on Prince Philip’s funeral that afternoon.
I was nervous. I was about to set off on my longest ever bike ride: almost 160 miles across Southern England. My butterflies reflected the scale of the challenge and the fact my previous attempt at this route ended after 86 miles because of mechanical failure.
The ride was training for the 400km (250 mile) London-Wales-London audax in May. I wanted to find out how well – or badly – I coped with an ultra-long day on the bike. I’ve completed seven century rides of 100 miles, but LWL is a far bigger challenge. On that aborted ride in 2022 I remember the feeling of foreboding as I grabbed a snack in Highworth, Wiltshire, knowing I still had 70 miles to go, including climbing onto the Downs. The mechanical problem struck just a few miles on.
My route
Yesterday was a fine day for a ride: the warmest this year so far. But there was an increasing headwind as I headed west, which became a real slog on the lovely stretch from Charlbury to Burford. I cursed as I cycled downhill at a mere 12mph! (Later, after heading back east, I’d routinely record 18mph on a similar gradient.) My grimace gives it away in the photo below, taken just after the long climb after Charlbury station.
It was a relief to reach my lunch stop, Burford, after 63 miles. I had intended to try Huffkins, recommended by Oxford Cycling Club in a blogpost, but as I looked for a way through to its garden with my bike I came across a lovely looking cafe, Nutmeg & Thyme, with tables in a sunny courtyard. I wouldn’t normally choose a vegan-only cafe, but I was so glad I did. My focaccia sandwich with fig chutney and vegan cheddar was mouthwateringly nice. Just what I needed to set me up for the next stage of my epic ride. The staff were lovely too.
I endured a mile or so on the A40 – endured because of the traffic and headwind – before turning onto the quiet B4425 road towards Bibury. I remembered this as a fast stretch from 2022, and so it proved again, despite that pesky headwind. (I loved driving along this road when I was living near Cirencester in the 1990s.) As in 2022 I stopped to take a photo of the Gloucestershire sign. I may not have got to Wales on this ride but I had reached a border county! Welsh Way recalls the days when Welsh drovers led their livestock from Wales to London. It is one of the oldest roads in Britain, dating back to the Iron Age. I used a length of Welsh Way to avoid traffic when I commuted to Cheltenham 30 years ago.
As in 2022, I stopped in Highworth near Swindon to buy some more water for my bottles, and chocolate, which I ate in the sunshine on a bench in the square as I charged my Apple Watch. I was intrigued to spot this plaque commemorating a Great War hero, Reginald Warneford. I remembered his story from a childhood book called Airships & Balloons by Carey Miller. Warneford became a national hero as the first airman to shoot down a zeppelin in 1915. The book recounted that he tragically died soon after while taking an American journalist for a joyride. Both men were killed when his plane crashed – possibly in an ill-judged acrobatic manoeuvre to impress the reporter according to my 1970s book.
It was time to do battle with the demon that I never confronted in 2022: the hills between Highworth and the Thames at Streatley. To my surprise, I loved this part of the ride. I tackled the big climb at Ashbury onto the downs in my own good (slow) time. Once over it, I found pure delight in the quiet road through the downland, framed by soft hills. My mood soared as I raced along at 19mph thanks to the tailwind and lightly descending gradients. I knew that Lambourn was famous for training racehorses, so it was no surprise to see an equine hospital. I also passed RAF Welford, which incidentally is the ‘works unit’ referenced on the sign you see when travelling east on the M4 between Hungerford and Newbury. (The sign used to be in red, marking a military place, but is now in standard motorway blue.) It is one of the biggest American munitions depots in Europe.
Another hill… Buckham Hill, near Great Shefford
I was less impressed with the state of the roads. A sign gave a stark warning: ‘Raw sewage. Drive slowly’. What a damning indictment of Britain, although perhaps we should feel a twinge of gratitude that the authorities had put a sign up, rather than accept that it was normal or acceptable. It then dawned on me that drinking from my water bottles might carry a risk of falling ill, if the shit was literally hitting my bidons. For the next 30 miles, I squirted water into my mouth rather than suck from the bottles. I drank less as a result.
Another problem was road closures. One, at Coln St Aldwyns in Wiltshire, I was able to cycle through, but I lost time and added miles because the direct route between Aldworth and Streatley in Berkshire was shut. Streatley itself was isolated by a complete closure in the heart of the village, but I was able to wheel the bike to pick up the road leading to the bridges over the Thames to Goring. As I enjoyed a quiet moment taking photos on the river (seen above) I noticed tables of diners and drinkers at the riverside restaurant – I had a pang of envy, although I was content with my mission.
I conquered the inevitable climb out of the Thames valley and was bathed in the happy glow of sunset at the end of a fine day. It was a pleasure bowling along at speed through woodland towards Henley as the light faded, confident in the beam of my new Exposure Strada front light. (Chosen for its ability to last for hours on long night rides.) I was even happier with my two rear lights, insurance against distracted Saturday night drivers, who proved well behaved.
Henley itself came as a shock, with drunken revellers swearing at each other. But I was soon heading to that other familiar Thames town, Marlow, again at a decent speed. (Anyone would think I wanted to get home!) These miles passed quickly, and in no time I was on the familiar road though Bourne End. I always know a big ride is coming to an end when the mileage left is no more than an easy Sunday afternoon jaunt.
The last challenge was the brutal climb from Wooburn Green to Holtspur, Beaconsfield. London-Wales-London organiser Liam FitzPatrick says he gets the most hate mail for including this climb on the route when riders are suffering after 390 kilometres of cycling. In truth, though, there are no easy alternatives that don’t make it even further to the finish. (I reckon Wash Hill out of Wooburn Town is slightly easier, and certainly quieter than the main road drag. EDIT: ‘easier’ may a misnomer. Wash Hill is definitely steeper in places than the main Wooburn Green climb, but is a delighfully quiet and picturesque lane, so you won’t have cars racing past you as you suffer…)
The final tally
As I prepared to turn into our road, I saw someone standing at the junction. It was my son Owen. My mind flashed back to August 2019, and the delight of seeing him as I reached John O’Groats on the end of my ride across Great Britain. I was pleased with my average speed of 13.6mph, which marked a modest increase over the last 57 miles.
Reflections on my longest bike ride
1: Things can go wrong, but needn’t be the end of the road
I mentioned how my first attempt at this ride ended after 86 miles. The through axle had come loose, and I only later realised I could have solved this by the roadside with the right tool. Second time round, I suffered a puncture after 49 miles. I cursed my ill luck – was this ride jinxed? But as I prepared to mend the puncture, the tubeless solvent worked its magic and sealed the puncture. I rode on nervously, but it held for the remaining 108 miles. My last minute service with Jason at Dees Cycles in Amersham may have saved the day.
It was the same story with the headwind. My first big ride was from Wiltshire to Cardiff in 1994. I didn’t realise at the time that the prevailing wind in Britain is from the west, so cycling in that direction is likely to be harder. (Unless you have an easterly wind.) I knew that the headwind would turn in my favour as I headed east and so it proved.
2: Mind over matter
Thinking of the road ahead: setting off
Long distance cycling is a physical challenge. We provide the engine for our progress across town and country. But the mind is just as important. I confess to feeling on edge on the eve of the ride, no doubt because of my failure in 2022. I was sure I would get through it, but lacking mechanical skills I feared being left at the roadside by a bike failure. It was irrational: I’ve ridden tens of thousands of miles with just that one incident requiring rescue.
Aside from mechanicals, I knew that I’d have to pace myself mentally as well as physically. The best advice is to relish the experience while not dwelling too much on how many miles remain. Look at a big ride as a series of mini rides, and treat each as an adventure. I was looking forward to lunch in Burford, and I wasn’t disappointed. Similarly, I took my time to recharge my batteries (literally and metaphorically) at Highworth, as I remembered the story of Reginald Warneford.
3: Talking of batteries…
When I started cycling seriously in my twenties, the only things that needed recharging were my lights. How times change: I now need to keep an eye on the charge levels of my phone, watch, bike computer, bike lights and GoPro (when carried).
The most troublesome gadget on this weekend’s ride was my Apple Watch. It needed charging after 85 miles, and again after another 30 because I didn’t have time to fully recharge it. The iPhone was simple: I charged it in my bag as I cycled. My Exposure light needs mains power, but has a setting that will last all night, making charging unnecessary for single day rides.
I didn’t have any of these challenges when I rode to Cardiff in 1994!
4: A wonderful route
Liam FitzPatrick has chosen a fabulous route for London-Wales-London. I was amazed how quiet most of the roads were – I frequently went a mile or more without a car overtaking me. And unlike many of the sportives I took part in during the 2010s it doesn’t add hills for the sake of it. Most of the route involves climbing an escarpment and staying on the plateau, rather than going against the grain. Liam may get hate mail for the Wooburn Green climb, but sometimes hills are unavoidable!
4: Am I ready for London-Wales-London?
Sitting by Reginald Warneford’s plaque in Highworth, I had a sinking feeling. I was weary after 85 miles, yet knew that I’d still have 165 further miles to pedal on London-Wales-London. Even as I completed Saturday’s ride successfully I didn’t dare think ahead to Saturday 4 May, and tackling the real thing. Yet now I feel more confident. Before this weekend, the furthest I’d cycled was 103 miles, on the old London Revolution sportive ride. Moving to 150+ miles was not an impossible step up for me. That’s a suitable balm for a nervous mind. I’m also dreaming of London-Edinburgh-London in 2025 but I mustn’t get ahead of myself!
As I cycled along the lovely Oxfordshire countryside, I listened to Emily Chappell talking of her endurance cycling adventures on the Cycling Magazine podcast. Emily won the Transcontinental Race across Europe in 2016, the first woman to do so. She’s a fantastic inspiration to anyone who wants to cycle long distances, with her mix of wisdom and humility. I am keeping her audio version of her book, Where There’s a Will for LWL.
5: Carmarthen isn’t that far away…
When I was at school in Cardiff in the 1970s, a friend mentioned one Monday morning that he’d cycled to Carmarthen over the weekend. Almost 50 years on I remember my reaction: “Carmarthen? That’s over 60 miles away!” He might as well said he’d pedalled to the moon.
When I discovered cycling in my mid twenties, I found that it wasn’t that hard to cover long distances on a good bike. In my early sixties I’m excited to keep pushing myself, while still enjoying my cycling. I’ve never been a racing rider, but seeing that mile number on my Garmin break new ground was a joy. Next stop: 250 miles…
6: Electrolyte tablets really helped
As it was the warmest day of the year so far, I took electrolyte tablets with me. For the first stage of the ride to Burford I drank plain water from one bottle and the electrolyte blend in the other. After lunch, I popped a tablet in both bottles. I can’t prove it, but feel sure this made a big difference to my condition over the last 70 miles, combined with the tailwind. I will definitely take a tube of electrolyte tablets on London-Wales-London.
Ertblog 