L2B - second and final part

2012 09 16 Sunday

(Continued) After the descent we passed under our first motorway. With little knowledge of this area I guessed that it was the M25, an important marker to giving me a real sense of location and terrain. Turns out we’d done 14miles. Now the capital city was behind us. Indeed, the urban area at Sutton/ Wallington had already given way to the stockbroker belt at Chipstead and now we were in the famous English countryside of the Home Counties. Chipstead straddles the border of the Borough of Croydon and Surrey and moving into Surrey added to the feeling we were leaving “the smoke”. The local amateur football and rugby playing fields on the top of the hill were in active use as we passed. In fact they have also been used for filming some of the tv drama Footballers’ Wives and I wonder if we can conclude that’s an added indication of the type of area we are passing through.

At this point we were cycling on country lanes just to the east of Redhill which, today was the start of the final stage of the Tour of Britain, the “Milk Race” as was, in which Jonathan Tiernan-Locke was in the lead and looking favourite for a British win for the first time in over 30 years. I would have loved to have been there to be a part of it, among the record breaking crowds for this event. We would know the result by the time we were on the return journey home.  

Our second significant climb up Church Hill came shortly before the M23 skew overbridge at the 19 miles point. This second motorway was another clear marker for me and about a third of the way there. The ride by now was becoming straightforward and gently pleasurable. No major features to report and no real change in the weather. There was a gentle south westerly breeze that was noticeable because it was cool but, as every cyclist knows, it would be impacting on our speed too.

After another short rise we were at the 22 miles point, The Dog and Duck pub at Outwood. This was the first of three Mechanic Points but for me a food stop. A convenient picnic table was just the ticket enabling me to sample the cheese sandwiches I’d brought from home yesterday (You’ll eat anything when energy is needed!) Many of the other riders were taking the opportunity to have a break too. The field today is quite small at around 3000. However, there is a similarity between this event and the big charity runs I’ve done. There are T shirts of many different charities being worn and the participants are mostly enthusiastic about the fundraising rather than cycling. The majority of us are proceeding at a similar pace but a few serious road cyclists keep overtaking.

Beside me taking a break were two men wearing Amnesty International T shirts. The younger one lay in the grass looking exhausted while the other, probably his dad, was keeping an eye on him. I was taking my time, tweeting as I ate. The Inn sign advertising Christmas dinner definitely warranted a tweet! When I was ready to go I noticed that the Amnesty lads had left before me. On the road again we passed under the flight path for Gatwick. I then soon found I was overtaking the inexperienced and unfit on the next incline and in the bunch were the trandems and the Amnesty lads. This time it was Turner Hill, a very significant feature in the middle of the Weald. I’m sure any geologist would tell you as much!

When I saw the Turner Hill village signs and, eventually the pretty village green, I could relate it to the lunch stop DOITFORCHARITY had advertised. They were putting on a buffet spread for us and was I ready for it?! We’d done 28 miles: half way.

Many cyclists were gathered at the pub on the green, The Crown but there was no evidence of food. Bikes were going both ways on the same road which was confusing. Seeing some of the road bike boys go past I reckoned that they should be ahead of me so must have just eaten. The papers said “buffet at The Ark” but no sign of any biblical vessel. Sitting looking back at the exhausted riders coming up the hill I could finally see the brown sign for The Ark and headed in its direction hoping to beat the floods!

The Ark turned out to be the Village Hall and sports ground, a fantastic facility for a small village, along with its four pubs! The buffet was all outside. Good job the rains were keeping off. There were savoury, cake, fruit and tea stalls, very ambitious but very successful. Makes me wonder about the London to Paris ride next year with French food! Anyway, the Amnesty boys arrived and asked me to take their photo, father and son as it happened. Their phone battery went flat so I used mine and emailed it to them on the spot! These smart phones are so much more. The large group of frankly unfit friends next to me were talking about their next meet up: Ditchling Beacon. The way they uttered those words were enough to strike fear into any cyclist! They reminded me that I had already been advised that Ditchling Beacon might be a problem!

Refreshed, it was back up to the crossroads past the attractive cottage-style houses and down the hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiill, an unusually long one, five miles roughly. One of the first things to impact as we turned at the crossroads onto the descent was the distant view of Ditchling Beacon, like a wall! Cue orchestra! Strident violins! Horror of horrors! Or plan right now walk up it to the sound of Greensleeves ! Definitely favourite!

Whilst writing this blog in the comfort of my own home I have been able to refer to my record of the ride on the computer. The smart phone App Strava turned on for the duration of the ride records the event and allows me to see, in detail, the route on a map, the elevation profile (you should see Ditchling Beacon on that! It’s like a needle!), distance, time and height gained. It’s really clever and comprehensive. Try it http://app.strava.com/rides/22157955 if it will let you. Even Google street view is possible and other detail like the names of the hills etc. and this long descent is called Ardingly Sprint. I don’t know about that but I was quite happy to take my feet off the pedals and let the wind rush through my hair! Ahem!

Strangely we found ourselves climbing past houses again into an urban area as we passed through the town of Haywoods Heath. The Beacon was looming larger now.

Ditchling was next. I would have loved to have dallied in this pretty Sussex village, the home of the famous sculptor Eric Gill. It has a reputation as an artists’ community and offers many visitor opportunities. Not today though. Passing through the village was a small descent on this five mile climb. By now we’d done about two thirds of gentle climb which continued further before kicking up steeply. Before the headline act I stopped for a drink and chatted to a young couple who, like me, had never cycled this road. They similarly were aware of the reputation of the hill. They led off and rounding a left hand bend at the foot of the hill where the road started the traverse of the escarpment we were all faced with and immediately accepted the long walk. I did try to cycle but my left leg packed up almost immediately, something that has never happened before. I think it was cramp just above the knee. At a mile in length though and at a gradient of 1 in 6 no massage would have made my body capable of sustaining the effort needed to cycle to the top! But the walk was well worth it.

The sight of a straggle of walking cyclists on Ditchling Beacon must be very common. In July when the British Heart Foundation have their mammoth event I presume the road is closed to motor traffic as 27,000 cyclists are released into the Sussex countryside. Apparently, in the 37 years of that annual event 7 cyclists have died. Ironically, I wonder if it was their hearts which gave up on Ditchling Beacon. I’ll not dwell on that but instead have a look back at the fabulous view of the Weald from the 800 feet summit like everyone else. Spectacular.  

Photos taken, all that remained was to ride/coast down to the Brighton Promenade finish line. It was about 7 miles but, from the tops, the English Channel was visible making it seem less. There was some fast descent, particularly after crossing the A27, the South Downs east-west route, but it wasn’t the pleasure it could have been because it’s a busy road. The final half of that distance was in the town still on the busy artery so, when it came, the sight of the prom was very welcome. The finish was roughly another mile to the east at the foot of the long slip road onto the lower promenade and a huge round of applause from the waiting crowd of families and friends with support vehicles. I though there must be someone special behind me when it all kicked off! Name taken by the organizers and medal doled out, that was it! About six hours, 54 miles and 3000 feet of elevation after starting at Streatham I’d done it and, on my faithful Brompton too. Something to feel quite content about: a bonus really on top of the £2000 plus raised for Rosa’s charity.

The coach I’d booked back to London wasn’t until nearly 5 o’clock so I used my time to look at Brighton’s iconic landmarks: the good east pier and the rusting hulk of the west pier, Volks’s Electric Railway, the Grand hotel, the Georgian architecture, the Royal Pavilion and the Lanes. Considering the very chilly on-shore breeze there were still a lot of tourists braving the elements and enjoying what Brighton has to offer.

All done it was good to get on a warm and luxurious coach and relax on the two and a half hour journey back to Victoria Coach Station in London. There was an added bonus of extra warmth when the sun came out over the Weald. I’d cycled most of the way in my CLIC Sargent short-sleeved top but hadn’t appreciated how cool it was. Time for a quick Google of the Tour of Britain which revealed that Jonathan Tiernan-Locke had indeed won: a bonus to the day’s events.    

More cycling to the Tube at Sloane Square and then back from Terminal 5 saw me finish at around 9 o’clock, not yet tired having done over 60 miles, but fatigue will come! When I read later that there was to be an off road, 75 miles BHF event the following weekend my mouth watered in anticipation! But not this year I fear!

London to Brighton for Rosa . . on a Brompton

2012 09 16 Sunday

At last, the day of the London to Brighton charity bike ride has arrived. It all started in February when Rosa’s neuroblastoma cancer was diagnosed and I took up the cudgel to raise funds for the charity that gave us practical support: CLIC Sargent. But we’ve come a long way since then so I’ll update on Rosa first then blog the ride.

Rosa shows no signs of her ordeal for which I am so grateful. She never did really. The medical tests and the operation to remove the tumour were the bits that caused her grief. Six months on she’s a normal three year old. She’s completed her first week at nursery school and is loving it. Attending each day with her friend Joey she’s oblivious to the tears that afflict so many in the first days of their new school. In her Royal blue and yellow uniform with her red hair scraped back off her face she looks so beautiful and grown up. Rosa strongly resembles her granny Gill, who would have been 66 today, and her great grandma, Gill’s mum Cora and I’m glad of that legacy. I’m also glad her flaming red hair contrasts beautifully with her uniform. Lucky! That’s one thing a schoolgirl can only hope for.

CLIC Sargent Fundraiser Part 1 was in April when, with a little help from my friends I walked out of the door at home and cycled the Trans Pennine Trail, and back home again to increase the challenge, over 400 miles in total. The daily blogs below describe that journey. Now, I’m off again, on my own this time on CLIC Sargent Fundraiser Part 2. Strictly, this is a dream I’ve grown up with from my first viewing of the legendary film Genevieve. But now it’s a romantic interlude, of a 1950’s idyll rather than the Kenneth More and Kay Kendall variety! There the similarity ends. This London to Brighton cycle ride is a one day event organised by DOITforcharity.com. It follows a largely back road route over 54 miles of the Surrey and Sussex Downs and Weald. And let’s hope the analogy isn’t rekindled by my breakdown somewhere en-route!   

Planning to cycle the event on one of my standard bikes would have involved a great deal of additional work. The intention was to use the L2B opportunity to stay over for a few days with Rosa and family. For many reasons I mostly travel to London by bus and trains now so, the answer was very simple: to do it on my folding Brompton which is like a suitcase, both bus and train friendly. Its three speed Sturmey Archer gears are restrictive but, with some training ride preparation, I feel ready and I can always walk up severe hills if I have to!

And so it was, I travelled down from Lancashire yesterday and need an early start today to register at Streatham before the 09:00 deadline.

Alarm set for 05:00 I pre-empted it and was out of the house by 05:30 cycling the three miles to Heathrow Terminal 5 to catch the first underground train of the day at 06:05. Unbelievably, half a mile into my first leg and I was thwarted by closure of Sutton Lane at the M4 bridge for the recovery of a vehicle. Significant traffic round and about amounted to postal workers changing shift and it was one of them walking home that alerted me to the problem ahead, a serious crash in the early hours. Good job I knew my bearings from "playing out" in Langley. It would mean a longer journey but was the quickest alternative, diverting westwards to the corkscrew-ramped pedestrian overbridge to the Honda roundabout. I reassured myself that I was early enough to be able to miss the first train and still be at Streatham for registration before 09:00. Who needs pressure?!

It was seriously dark but my new lightweight bike light regime was working well: a 1 watt headtorch and the tiny but powerful seat stem back light birthday present.

I made Heathrow very easily following the Colnbrook/ Poyle route I've become familiar with this year during the Olympics. It was still dark when I arrived at Terminal 5 and, while I thought I knew where I was I couldn't find the entrance to the Underground Station. Eventually I realised I was disorientated because I’ve only arrived by train and never departed like today. Terminal 5 and Heathrow generally is quite something, very impressive, but big. So much so it has even become a “day out” for our family. There’s nothing quite like seeing the planes and riding the automatic pods and trains for amusing the grandchildren . . . and me, but I must concentrate. I’m only passing through this morning!

Following freely offered advice about the location of the down escalators to the Station the dash to the platform resumed! Who said southerners were unhelpful! Panic! The train was pulling in as I tried to retrieve my Oyster Card to open the barriers. It was buried in my upside down bag, under the truly squashed banana. Would I? Wouldn't I? With one minute to spare I did.

As I fell into my seat my phone went with a text. It was from my girl . . and, at 06:05 that’s dedicated support. It set me off with a spring in my step.

As I was sitting on the train thinking about the next step I was glad of the early start. I'd not reviewed the journey properly. I thought I needed to change for Waterloo but had totally forgotten my pre-purchased ticket was from Victoria. A quick look at the paperwork revealed the error. I found I needed to change trains and cycle from Sloane Square to Victoria.

Considering the early hour on a Sunday morning I thought it was very busy. Lots of people on the Underground and milling about Victoria station when I arrived there including a host of cyclists on the same train. Not long now. Only a short ride from Streatham Common station to the start. By now dawn had broken and the day had started very grey and cool.

Discovering the time of my arrival at Sainsbury's was 07:50 and finding the queue of cyclists waiting to register was out onto the main road I was relieved I wasn’t any later. There was an inevitable delay while everyone was processed and I lost 40 minutes. Unbelievably, by the time I came back out of Sainsbury’s car park at 08:30 the queue was over a quarter of a mile longer.   

Bearing the number 2741 I was off, following the orange marker arrows as instructed. Even without the orange arrows we could have managed by following the plethora of rider numbers stuck to the road. In the absence of pins they were falling like flies.

The weather continued grey and cool so I left my trademark dayglow orange windjammer on but I would want to remove it at some point to display the CLIC shirt I was wearing.

Oh boy, was it good to get going! The initial terrain was very suburban, residential streets with traffic bumps, then a main road or two. After about 5 miles it eventually became a leafy uphill lane that arrived in Chipstead. Many cyclists were walking up the hill so I felt quite good staying on the Brompton and exerting myself to get it the top. At the summit many were taking a rest on the Green. As I took a celebratory photo one of two three-man trandems reminiscent of the Goodies that I’d overtaken on the hill summitted. Now, that did look hard work. The reward for our efforts was the long downhill on the other side. It was the first of many. (to be continued)