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!