12/05/18

If certain residents of the Yorkshire village of Moss had reason to peer through their curtains shortly after 2.00 am on a Sunday morning in May, they would have seen four people sheltering from the rain at a bus stop, introducing themselves having already ridden together for several hours, eating, squeezing the water out of their gloves and weeing without bothering to find a bush to hide behind (not necessarily in that order).

I rode the first part alone, feeling as the rest of us did like a piece of fly paper as we ploughed through the clouds of greenfly.  I’d sort of joined Eddie on the skirting of Hull, but we weren’t quite riding together as such, mostly because I don’t know how to technically, but also because I’m socially incompetent (sometimes that is an overwhelming anxiety but at the moment it’s just uncomfortable).  He was a nice guy and I was touched that he remembered me from my aborted 600 km last year – I recognised him but couldn’t have placed him, but he’d seen me having a minor meltdown and migraine under a tree in Pocklington; I remember someone waving at me and I just shook my head.  We ate together at Spurn Head but didn’t really chat, and I thought he’d already left but when I went to go he was still there, wrestling with leg warmers.

Mike was also preparing to leave and had parked his bike next to mine, and seemed keen to join us so we made a little trio without really trying to.  We didn’t ride that close together and I think I went out a bit too far in front sometimes, but I was trying to stay with them but also go at my pace. They both had GPS although Mike’s only seemed to be useful for telling him when he’d sailed past a junction that Eddie and I had turned at (and not knowing someone’s name makes it harder to call after them); however I have my suspicions that this may have been if not operator-error then at least operator-can’t-be-arsed-to-pay-attention-when-they-can-just-follow-someone-else.

We stopped way too long at Leven petrol station, I was about ready to go when Mike Wiggly appeared; other Mike had been riding with him further back and decided we should wait and take him with us.  They phoned wives and girlfriends to check in and report on progress.  I didn’t.  Mike W clumsily commented on my rainbow sew-on patch and I clumsily replied.  I asked for two carrier bags with my smoothie/flapjack/eccles cake purchase, and they stayed on until I got back home.

Timing was good, better than last time no doubt due to the kind wind.  I remember it being pitch black on arrival at McDonalds then, whereas today there was still some light in the sky.  There was also water falling from it, which had been light enough that I hadn’t bothered with the waterproof but after this it would be needed for warmth too, plus that rain was setting in more permanently.  Mike W decided to stay for another coffee so the remaining three of us reluctantly made a start on this long dark leg. Negotiating Goole we picked up Carl, who had been ahead, but lost confidence in his navigation, and turned back.  It was good riding with others in the dark, the extra lights are helpful (although Mike’s strobe on the front was bit too disco for me).  I liked the flat Kings Causeway section although I think some of the others found it mind-numbing. This ride has an almost constant stream of routesheet instructions, there are hardly any long uninterrupted stretches.  Apart from a couple of junction confirmations with Eddie’s GPS, and one that I missed, I pretty much took the front and did the navigating.  It reminded me a bit of LEL, and the night I rode silently with a group from all over the world, weaving across the road as they either nodded off, forgot which side to ride on, or possibly both.

Mike came off going over a railway line in Thorne which crossed the road at a stupid angle, so we all stoped and Mike W happened to catch us at the same time. He seemed ok but we made him stand still for a little while to make sure he wasn’t going to keel over. A car actually came by just behind us, as he was still lying on the road, and didn’t stop.  Around here I started to wonder how safe this pastime of ours is…it was cold, wet, and dark.  We were in a village and I dare say could have woken up a household if needed, but there was no sign of (awake) life and no shelter.  I thought of the riders doing the Old 240 and where would they be at this time of night?  I don’t know if I could do that ride, I wouldn’t feel safe.

Mike W shot off and the rest of us wound our way on, via that bus shelter in Moss.  I’d stopped there last year too.  I thought we’d been doing a reasonable 20 kph average on the flat but soon the hills started and we slowed right down. Unusually for me I felt I could have gone faster, and found myself slowing to let the others catch up.  But I was glad of their company, not being scared of the shadows this time.

Eventually Woolley Edge services appeared.  By accident rather than design we arrived at 3.50 am which was exactly on my approximate schedule, although again we stayed longer that I’d have liked.  But now there was only 35 km to go, and the dawn to look forward to.  Mike was nodding off but the rest of us seemed ok.  We chatted about bikes and riding.  It was Carl’s first 400 km.  He said my navigation was excellent which I really appreciated.  He and Eddie exchanged numbers on the basis of a potential bar-end shifter sale.

By the time we set off the sky was already lightening, and a rather nice morning was underway.  Mike and Carl both knew their way round a slightly longer but flatter route via Brighouse, so Eddie and I followed them, Carl and I seeming similarly paced and the other two a little behind (a sort of taking-a-leak time delay which was convenient). I didn’t think we’d manage, but we got back just before 7 am.  There had been a time when I thought 24 hours was possible, but the slow night leg and longer stops prevented that. But it was surprisingly nice to ride with others for once.

410 km, 25.5 hours

27/05/17

I had originally registered for the Old 240 400 km, but after reading Chris Crossland’s ride notes (“the route will take you to remote and inhospitable places (e.g.Yorkshire)”) decided that it was a little ambitious for my first go at this distance, so switched to this flatter and less remote route.  I’d love to ride the Old 240 though, maybe next year.

Accommodation was provided in the Mytholmroyd Community Centre the night before although it didn’t seem that there were an awful lot of us taking advantage of it.

Many more arrived the morning and I met Raj and Osian from the Wiggy 300 km, plus Bob Bialek who always make a point of making sure he’s remembered both of my names whenever I see him, which is very nice.  He was doing the Old 240 of course.

A loose group of us rode together for a while, through the main roads and dual carriageways of West Yorkshire, eerily quiet at this time on a Saturday morning.  The first control was at Busy Lizzies Cafe in Castleford, a great place for it with just the right sort of food at just the right speed.  Shame about the bog though.  Two male cyclists seemed to be using it simultaneously before me; maybe safety in numbers.

Shortly afterwards, and probably due to the debris on this bridge, I had a rare puncture.  I noticed it not be feel but the noise of escaping air.  Probably because I don’t get them that often I’m not the fastest at fitting a new tube; Osian came past but I told him not to wait.

We crossed the Ouse at Boothferry, from where the M62 crossing looks rather impressive.

A little lump over the south end of the Yorkshire Wolds then it was flat again all the way out to the Spurn Head; it’s Not Quite because some severe storms have destroyed part of the spit.  Nice to have ridden to the coast though, and a good cafe as the control.

I really enjoyed the first bit of the return journey, riding past gas terminals on the lonely cost roads was rather eerie.  Soon though the wind made itself known, and it became a hard slog.  The next control was a petrol station and I caught up with a trio who would remain not far ahead of me for the rest of the ride.  Banter seemed strong here and I think kept them going.  Next I got lost in Beverly and spent ages going round in circles unable to find “L by Minster sp. Howden B1230”.  I don’t know how much time I lost, I even went to the train station to look at their map of the local roads to try and figure out where I should be going…maybe I was tired and would have managed under normal circumstances, although it must only have been around 8 pm.  Eventually I found a sign to North Cave which was the next place listed on the routesheet, and once on the road I realised it was the one I was supposed to be on.

After North Cave the route rejoined the one we took east, until near Goole where it diverged again and a 24 hour McDonalds provided a welcome control and feed.  It was hard going and I was really looking forward to this by now, not my usual diet but it was just the job.  The three other guys from the last control were here, one of them chatting to a member of staff who he recognised from doing the ride the year before; she was full of stories about wet damp cyclists (it sounded like another audax uses this place as a control too) and late night visitors on their way to the hotel over the road after nights out.  She seemed to really enjoy her job, seeing all sorts coming though the door, both regulars and randoneurs.

The return leg was now south of the trip out, with an info control in Crowle.  It was properly night now, and I was riding on my own all the way.  It was a struggle, I felt like I was going really slowly although I’m not sure if I was.  Overall average speed was just over 20 kph so not the fastest of my rides.  I was easily spooked, I kept seeing shadows or lights up ahead, or noises from behind, that I thought were people – although quite who’d be sitting on a park bench in a village or lurking behind a tree at 3 am I don’t know.  I thought about stopping to have a nap but I didn’t think I’d be warm enough having nothing to lie on.  I did stop in a bus shelter but just had a bit to eat and a rest.  And got spooked because I thought someone was watching from the house opposite.  Eventually the sky began to lighten and the birds awoke.  This was my first experience of origin right through the night and I can’t say I enjoyed it, I just kept going as there didn’t seem to be any other option.  I also hadn’t appreciated before the decrease in speed because of not being able to go downhill as fast as in daylight, my light not illuminating enough of the road up ahead to be able to descend confidently.

Eventually the welcome sight of Woolley Edge Services, where I found the three amigos again.  I had something to eat from Costa and a sleep on their furniture.  I had managed to nod off leaving my wallet and phone on the table to anyone passing to help themselves too, but happily the two blokes who came over to ask about my bike and what I was up to were entirely trust worthy and just told me off for not being careful.  I think I misread my watch and thought I had less time than I did, in reality I had plenty of time for the last 30 km at this stage although I was feeling pretty knackered.  One of the others guys commented at the end that there had been a lot of ‘experienced audaxers’ having a good break here when with only 30 km left they’d normally be cracking on, and that the wind had really challenged all of us.

The final section had a sing in the tail for me in the form of Halifax, where I got lost having missed a turning.  More time wasted going up and down, back and forth…I don’t fully trust the map on my phone as th compass is dodgy so it takes a while for me to get my orientation even if I know where I am.  Eventually I worked out a way out and down some A road or another, getting onto the A646 back to Mytholmroyd. I pulled into HQ in a somewhat grumpy mood, with about 10 minutes to spare, another Lanterne Rouge for the collection.  One of the trio came over and we had mutual congratulations in a dazed way, he looked as bad as I felt (I didn’t venture near a mirror myself).  Also Osian was there and hadn’t finished much before me, he’d been feeling ill and I heard later he’d had several days off work with the large so he did really well to finish.  Raj was back too and about to head to Hebden Bridge with another rider to wait for the first train home.  I had hoped to be able to sleep a bit at the end before going home (first train back to Leeds was about 10.30 am it being a Sunday) but as the control closing time had come folk were packing up and heading off.  I ended up gingerly riding to Hebden too, for lots of coffee that didn’t seem to have much effect.  I don’t remember feeling particularly pleased to have completed a 400 km, just exhausted and still a bit annoyed with my two lost episodes.

415 km, 26 hrs 40 mins