To decrease the pain quotient a good nights stay at Noel's was advised and taken, only to be woken by a 25mph rainy gale with the forecaster saying that the maximum temperature expected was 7°C. Cheering words from Pete Gifford (ex of the rockband "The Rain Gods") ensured that we emerged onto our route with a severe bout of overdressing.
Our route was cunningly designed to take full account of Lincolnshire's finest hedgerow cover - although I am not too sure where exactly this is. Upon arriving at our first control we had little need to trouble the busy staff to fill our water bottles as several of us had cleverly funnelled our rain hats to run directly into them. Refreshments at Caenby Corner café are renowned, so much so that Pete and myself renowned ourselves twice. Visibility inside was little better than outside. On exiting several smoking beagles remarked however that they would prefer to stand outside.
Travelling south with a tailwind of about 20-mph would normally have been quicker but Noel and Pete had forgotten the sail for the double bed (recumbent tandem trike). Unusually the arrival of three trikes and a tandem trike couldn't faze the young garage attendant at Woodhall Spa - perhaps we should wear funny clothing or something?
Travelling further south showed us the strength of the storms as we passed rivers actually inches from bursting their banks. Our regular café at Bourne was unusually shut however the fish restaurant next door did a good line in all but rubber stamps - receipts are acceptable aren't they Bernard? This part of the route is very enjoyable with slight gradients and wooded areas although we couldn't fix the head wind as we turned north. As we travelled to the Audaxers East Midlands Oasis at Gonerby Services we were stopped entering a deeply flooded road by a (unusually concerned) motorist. This caused Pat Kenny a little more than concern in avoiding my Trike and unofficially collecting a lantern rouge or two. After this point Pete continually blamed his wet recumbent bum on condensation - although I am not sure if this was from clouds or by especially low ground clearance.
Gonerby was reached after Pat had had a bit of a "talking to" by a passing motorist. This was a pointless act as Pat had been listening to Radio 2 on his Walkman since 10:00 that morning and continued unabated. On entering the restaurant we thought that it might be best to pick a quiet corner just in case we felt the urge 'to rest'. Note to the editor: please feel free to insert kip/lie down/install tent/rebuild cycle at this point. However after I had done a quick head count of customers (total = 0) and Noel had done the same (total =17, blaming his new computer) we liberated the centre of the restaurant. Alisdair was still showing that he had lots of energy, after spilling approximately a litre of Coke over the display area, we observed his great relish in cleaning most of the serving area. The staff eventually admitted defeat and took cover never too sure if we were mindless vandals or just the worst for wear.
As organiser, Noel had pre-calculated that three groups would meet here, and true to form one wet Randonneur turned up (sack that computer Noel!). Previous encountees might recognise the description. Seventy-odd going on 25, pipe smoker, 'sit-up and beg' bike - yes, Jack Eason. His comrades had dutifully jacked it in. Not one to miss a bit of a ride he thought he would ride in a bunch - and so (Easter bunny like) hopped on board the trike bus.
After exiting Gonerby we encountered a coned off A1 patrolled by council workers who advised other (non-flooded) routes. Sensibly we avoided this in order to discuss matters further with a darkly uniformed gentleman in a striped car - who insisted that we could cycle where we liked. So we did - off the A1 and down some unlit lanes and towards Blyth. Lovers of head winds will be sad to learn that they were temporarily suspended on this leg. Noticing that it was an unusually quiet night we turned around to discover Alisdair (Worsley) lost. This was in order to comply with an earlier premonition, only to meet once again at the services.
A similar head count at Blyth discovered that zero members of the public had traversed Nottinghamshire to meet us. Fortunately for the shareholders of the Granada Services a herd of Audaxers had collected in the restaurant. The wheels (or is it derailleurs) were almost off the Learmonth/Abrahams/Hennesey 'fixed wheel all-stars' bus and recovery was in great need - as was the hand drier for damp socks. It's interesting to note that getting a Brevet card stamped is not a problem at a service station at 4:00am on a rainy night on a blocked off road at a service station.
And so on to Noel's house where the previously prepared feast of home made soup, jelly and custard (what strange appetites we all have) had to be passed up in order to get York for 10:15. What our organiser didn't tell us at the beginning was that we were to endure the A19. Probably all the better really as this is the road that your dentist has nightmares about. After almost breaking the city speed limits and adding further to Pat (what red light) Kenny's reputation we arrived at York railway station with minutes to spare (on the minimum distance, 360km). Fortunately for those who had almost seized up - me, there was a surfeit of trains travelling south, with a tailwind - as expected.
Harold Heyworth