The initial plan had been to go on the weekend of the 23rd to 25th, but thunderstorms earlier in the week and a forecast for more over the weekend put me off. This left little choice but the final weekend of the month, and another last gasp BAM. I’d originally planned to attempt the YD300, but had opted not to, as I didn’t think I had appropriate gearing. So I thought I would treat this ride in a similar ITT fashion and try to minimise stopped time; so out went the stove, porridge and coffee bags, to be replaced by granola and ProPlus.
The weather forecast was initially looking good, but as the week wore on, Friday got worse and worse. Not wanting to be totally soaked within the first couple of hours, with a full weekend ahead, I mentally scratched heading out on Friday and opted instead for an early start on Saturday. This was mostly driven by not wanting to have wet feet for the whole weekend, as I still haven’t managed to buy a pair of waterproof socks. Given the rain was lashing down at 18:00, exactly when I’d been planning to leave, I was relatively content with my decision.
The alarm went off at 05:00, and after a few last minute adjustments, we were off, rolling down the driveway at 06:15. I didn’t stick exactly to the waymarked route on my way towards Melbourn, mainly as I knew parts would be overgrown and thus soaking wet, or they’re just really poor riding, with much better nearby. As you can see, some of the local rights of way have been pretty hammered by all the weather recently, this isn't supposed to have a stream running down the middle of it; it was even worse on the way back...
There's one bit of the Icknield Way riders route towards Melbourn, that just doesn't make any sense. You're flying along a nice enough byway, when you have to hang a right, down the edge of a field. It's signposted from the byway, but doesn't appear as a right of way on any map. There's nothing on the ground, not even a hint of a path, and you have to cycle / push down the field, as the narrow edge is thick with waist high prickly weeds.
When you get to the end of the field, you have to wade through five metres of head high nettles. It's not obvious at this point the exact direction you should be heading, so you end up on the wrong side of a four foot ditch; really you need to head for the left hand side of that tree, but it's not obvious. The ditch you then have to cross is too wide to jump over with a loaded bike, so you have to lower down the side, before jumping down after it, then scrambling up the other side and finally bending down to haul your bike out by the saddle. I have no idea why it's part of the route, as it's obvious that no-one cares enough to keep some sort of track passable or even signposted. Having now ridden the entire route, I have to say that this wee section is, by far and away, the worst bit of it.
After a bit of road riding up and through Melbourn, it was back off onto a nice long sequence of byways that take you all the way past Ashwell. At this point, it was into the unknown, and as a result, lots of little navigation errors started to creep in, especially on bits where it wasn't exactly obvious which fork in the road you were supposed to take. I also started to do some mental calculations about how far I could ride, based on my current average speed, which was slightly lower than I’d have liked. If I could minimise stoppages, and ride for about fifteen hours, then I could get somewhere around 285 KM, which would’ve been great, and put my back around Ashwell at the end of the day.
Eventually the byways and bridleways ran out, and there's a short section of road that takes you under the A1(M) to the North of Baldock. As you turn off the road and join the greenway that takes you South to Letchworth, it's been redirected, and you now pass a stable block that has a tap on an exterior wall. So I took the opportunity to stop and refill the bottles, before heading onwards. As I now had full bottles and loads of snacks, I decided not to stop at the, on route, 24 Hour Esso garage (which features a SPAR), as I thought I'd easily make it to the BP garages at either Houghton Regis or Dunstable.
I really enjoyed the riding after crossing the East Coast Main Line and sything through Ickleford, with plenty of nice wide open, quiet, byways; just the kind of riding I like. The bit where you’re riding over what looks like exposed sandstone bedrock, that almost looked like cobbles, was pretty cool. The bit after Streatley seemed pointlessly convoluted, but you could see hints of being on the edge of an escarpment through the bushes, which was a welcome surprise. What wasn't such a welcome surprise was the descent down said escarpment at Sharpenhoe, busy with walkers and super steep. I knew I was probably not going to make it back up in the other direction, which I was still assuming would be later that day.
Upper Sundon came and went, where I had to ask someone for directions, as it looked like the GPS was trying to take me down a private drive. Course corrected, I then found the way blocked by a kissing gate and footpath signs. I'm not sure why this seemed to be the way, especially as there was a road a few hundred metres further on, that would take you to the same point further down the hill, and to more footpath over both the Midland Main Line and M1. To the point where the first marker post on the other side of the bridges had a bridleway sign in one direction, and a footpath in the other. :shrug:
I was still feeling relatively good as we swung left in Tebworth and headed for the A5 (A505) crossing. It was all very orderly, with a nice shared use path over the road, but it soon just stopped and cyclists were told to rejoin the carriageway; not sure what pedestrians were supposed to do at this point. One punishment pass later, we'd managed to get off the B5120 into Houghton Regis and into a massive building site. Not sure how many homes and businesses they're building, but it looked like plenty. Eventually we were back onto another, short, bridleway and you'd think you were in the middle of nowhere, apart from all the road noise from the A505, which was just up the bank on the right.
I stopped at a BP garage at this point for something savory. It wasn't particularly well stocked, at least, not with anything I actually wanted to eat, so I didn't buy much. It wasn't till I got back out to the bike that I realised I hadn't bought any water, rather than going back in, I decided I could probably last till Dunstable Downs and the NT cafe. Before that though, it was one of the first bits on the ride where I had to stop and get off to actually admire the view. I had a chat with a gentleman who was out for a walk, he mentioned that there was a 30% chance of rain, I took one look at what was heading straight for us, and told him we had a 100% chance. He headed off for home, while I tried to beat the weather to Dunstable Downs and shelter.
I'm glad there was a shared use path up the climb out of Dunstable, as I wouldn't have liked to cycle up that road. It did mean the closer we got to the NT visitor centre and car parks, the busier the path got, with lots of “excuse me”'s and “thank you”'s. We made it to the NT Visitor Centre about 5 minutes before the first wave of rain hit, thankfully it was more of a light drizzle, than a torrential downpour. More thankfully though, was a working outside tap, normally used to fill up dog bowls, but I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity for free water. As I'd just eaten crap from the garage, I didn't fancy anything from the cafe, so decided to press on.
I’d decided to put my shoe covers back on, along with my waterproof jacket, as the drizzle hadn't quite stopped and it looked like it was going to get heavier. Maybe I was just lucky with the direction that the route now took, but five minutes later, the drizzle had stopped and the jacket came off. I don't think I'd totally been prepared for the up and down nature of the route from this point, especially as we'd managed to ride up everything so far. That all stopped when we got to the Roman Rd climb out of Nettleden though, where a combination of the rear tyre refusing the bite into the slithery surface coupled with an imminent bonk, had me off the bike. I felt like I'd been eating enough, but obviously not, so I shovelled some calories in while pushing up the rest of the climb.
Reality started to bite at Tring Park, with the rain showers having made the surfaces slidy and increasingly muddy, which meant that progress had felt painfully slow at times. I was also getting through my food and liquid at an alarming rate, and realised there was no way I'd make it back to Dunstable Downs for another free refill of water before running out and would have to find somewhere on route for some more.
Everytime the road went up, I was off and pushing. If I stood up, the rear tyre would slip, if I sat down, I didn’t quite have the gearing to spin and ended up mashing the pedals. I was still feeling like a bonk wasn’t too far away, and was trying to not to drink all my water, so I wasn’t overly enjoying myself.
The trail through Wendover Woods from Chivery was amazing though, like something out of a medieval film set. Rather than cycling down the actual trail, I'd found myself rolling down the hill up on the left bank, so while I had a great few into the cleft, I had to stop, and lift the bike down a flight of stairs to rejoin the actual route. A close encounter with a couple of dog walkers on a narrow, nettle and bramble infested section later, and it was out and onto the road to Princes Risborough.
The view from Whiteleaf Hill was magic, apart from the massive weather front heading straight in. The descent was bonkers and I had to get of and walk / slither my way down the chalk and wet muddy roots. We made it down safely, knowing full well there was no chance of riding back up it; even if it had been dry and I'd been fresh and on an unloaded bike I doubt I’d have got back up it. Princes Risborough dispatched with, I tried not to check the GPS every two seconds to find out if we were there yet. After what seemed like an eternity, we were, so I took a photo, turned around, and headed straight back to Princes Risborough to find some supplies.
After checking my phone, I decided to head for Tesco, but I spotted a Co-op on the way, so I stopped and headed in. I bought what I thought was a lot, mainly as I still thought I'd be back to Dunstable before the BP garage shut, so I only needed supplies until then. I walked out into pissing rain, as the weather had well and truly arrived. Spotting a bus stop over the road, I quickly grabbed all my stuff and headed for shelter. I was disapointed to discover an elderly couple also sheltering from the rain, so got to enjoy my sandwich along with their second hand fag smoke. Obviously they had questions about what I was doing, where I'd come from and where I was going, etc. It all boiled down to "well, it's better than taking drugs, but I still think you're mad"; given my disheveled state, wet, and covered in mud, I felt like random members of the public calling me mad, meant I’d finally arrived as a fully paid up Boner.
Thankfully the rain finally passed over, and it was time to be off again. The damage had been done though and on the first bit of uphill out of Princes Risborough, I nearly brought up everything I'd just eaten and had to get off and push. I felt terrible, and pretty much pushed all the way back up Whiteleaf Hill, where the view just showed even more weather closing in.
You’d think that having just ridden there, I’d have recognised most of the relevant junctions on the way back, but no. I kept taking the wrong turn, and not recognising where I was. To be fair, most of the woods looked the same, and there appeared to be trails everywhere. I don’t think I’ve ever pushed my bike so much in my life, which upon reflection is good training for the BB200 I suppose. It was just slightly disheartening, as I felt I should’ve been able to ride up things like the trail to Chisley Wood, bit with the rear tyre spinning and refusing to bite, plus still feeling sick, it was easier to get off and walk.
Similarly, I had to push back up the trail through Wendover Woods, as it was now raining hard again and the under wheel conditions were just too soft and hard going.
It was now properly getting on, and I was having to get off and push up pretty much everything, on-road and off. Due to battery anxiety with my front light, I wanted to save it for as long as possible, so I took my helmet off and broke out the head torch. Progress was painfully slow, regardless of surface, but I kept trying to keep forward momentum. Eventually the head torch wouldn’t cut it anymore, and as I knew I was closing in on Dunstable Downs again, I put the front light on.
I rolled back to the outside tap at the NT visitor centre at around 10 o’clock, where I stopped for a break. This was mainly so I could clean myself up a bit, as my legs were covered in filth, as was the bike. Half an hour later, legs clean, bike slightly cleaner, full of water and snacks, I headed off to find a bivvy. I was still making navigation mistakes, which is easy to do at night with the Wahoo, as the screen isn’t illuminated, so you can’t see what’s coming up. This did mean a few occasions where I had to go back uphill, to take the “correct” turn, even when the trail or path I was on would’ve brought me eventually to the same place.
I was relieved to finally clear Dunstable, as the car parks at Dunstable Downs were full of yoof, and I was nearly turned to strawberry jam on a roundabout, by some arsehole trailing clouds of ganja smoke from his open window. Thankfully there were no more dramas around Houghton Regis and once I crossed the A5 (A505), it was time to find the first flat(ish) spot to pitch the tent. 239 kilometres for the day, which was around 50 kilometres less than I’d been hooping for. Given my pace though, to get to where I’d have liked, would’ve probably taken another three hours of sustained riding, at a bare minimum. So I was quite glad to finally stop and get more rest than I would’ve if I’d pushed on.
I felt like I managed to sleep for some portion of the night, but it felt more like a sequence of black outs, rather than a slow drop off and wake up. I do remember hearing more rain in the night, and being thankful for being totally enclosed in the tent. My alarm went off at 05:00 and the morning was depressingly damp and foggy. Granola consumed, and ProPlus popped, it still took me an hour to pack up and get moving.
At least the legs seemed to be in OK shape, and I managed to ride all the way up the road to Upper Sundon. I knew I wouldn’t be able to ride up the climb at Sharpenhoe, and I was soon off and pushing / hauling the bike up it. The convoluted section back to Streatley didn’t feel any less convoluted on the way back.
I loved the next series of bridleways and byways, mostly tending down hill, mostly wide and open with a good surface. I soon had a massive grin on as I put the hammer down and took the opportunity to make up some easy time.
I love this kind of riding. The trails aren’t as smooth as they look, so you can’t completely switch off, but I knew the going was good for a while, so I just tried to make the most of it.
I stopped at the 24 Hour Esso SPAR in Letchworth and bought second breakfast, before continuing. On the way round Hitchin, I could feel some minor discomfort from the bib shorts, which up to this point had been pretty flawless. I stopped in the middle of nowhere and was about to whip the bibs down to apply some more cream when I thought I should have one final look around. Just as well really, as I’m sure I spared a few blushes as a young woman popped into view with her dog. Thankfully there was no-one around on the next byway, so a non-liberral application of cream was eventually made.
I appeared to be chasing the weather, and when I made it back to Melbourn, it was more like cycling into a cloud, rather than cycling into rain. Thankful our courses diverged, as I headed back to that utterly hideous trudge over ditches and around fields. While negotiating the nettles, I heard voices, and lo and behold, two ladies on their gravel bikes were also wondering WTF was up with that bit of the trail. I told them what I’d done, and left them to it, before heading for the climb up to Heydon.
As an aside, I’ve had my eye on this particular patch of trees on the South border of Heydon Grange Golf & Country Club since I first saw it. However, it normally has travellers pitched up in it, to the point where you can see their caravans on satellite view on Google Maps. I’m not surprised the landowner, or farmer, has finally had enough and blocked off the entrance, the place is a pigsty. One day I’ll get a bivvy in there, but I’ll wait till I don’t need a Hazmat suit.
After a rest in Heydon for some food and drink, it was onwards through Elmdon and up the nastly little climb to get to the byway. I was pleased to have ridden all the way up it, but it was obvious the legs were starting to struggle. The climb up Cow Lane ouf of Great Chesterford for the same, painfully slow, but cleared in a oner. I stopped in Linton for some more water and a Magnum, before heading up Rivey Hill, which I was unsure if I’d manage. I didn’t and I was off and pushing from about halfway, which was really disappointing.
Cycling past the house was slightly soul destroying, as I knew I needed to be back for dinner, which wasn’t likely given my lack of pace. So I decided rather than going all the way to Knettishall Heath, I’d just pop to Phoenix Cycleworks for a coffee and some cake, then head home. This would mean just over 400 kilometers for the trip, which seemed more than enough. It was also partly driven by it being a Sunday, and a distinct lack of water refill options after Phoenix Cycleworks.
Six kilometres passed the house, I caught another rain shower. This one wasn’t like the others, and even though I’d just stopped to put my rain jacket on, I was soaked to the skin in about 60 seconds, with water running down my legs, under the shoe covers and soaking my shoes and feet. At this point I asked myself what I was trying to prove as I suddenly wasn’t enjoying myself anymore. So I turned around and slowly plodded home.
It was a bit of an up and down trip, some truly fantastic riding, with some amazing views, but also some real lows as well. But [insert chosen deity herte] I need to sort out eating and drinking properly, as it really impacted half the ride. I’m definitely going to go back and ride some of that stuff while fresh, on an unloaded bike, but I’ll maybe wait for a bit of a dry spell first.
When I attempt this again, as I no doubt will, I think I’ll go towards Knettishall Heath first, as then I’ll still be fairly fresh and lively as I go back past the house. I think it was just too easy to sack it in, as I was so close. If I’d got soaked another ten kilometres further along the road, I’d probably have continued, so the further I can get away from the house the better.
