Why six o'clock? The start wasn't until eight but we didn't have much option: get up or get trodden of. So I got up, packed, stuffed face, got the bike checked, collected my brevet card. Ten past seven; what now? Wander round and chat; and try to avoid the lumpy puddle in the car park that grew a little each time someone pulled a certain chain inside the hall...
Jack wheeled his bike passed; quick honk.
Quite a variety of machines including an upright trike and tandem trike and a couple of recumbents; a Ross SWB bicycle and a Trice tadpole (two at the front, one at the back) trike. I've never seen a good picture of a Trice but it actually is a rather nice piece of kit.
There was a kit-car with a sticker on the pack window that read "Librarians Rule, OOK!" (apologies to non Pratchett fans). I got talking to the owner, a Geordie by the name of David Yates, who not only has a home-made car with a home-made sticker on it but built his own bike as well.
I followed the general drift down to the road and as eight o'clock arrived, almost 200 cyclists left. Yet again I got caught up in the first stage silliness. I found myself alongside Dave Yates, ex-racer, who maintained that "This is b****y stupid!", which was a little worrying for a non-racer on a fixed wheel! I had a feeling I was going to pay for it later on, and I did. I got my card stamped at the first control at a perfectly 'legal' time but, to my shame, I had managed this only by avoiding the brevet queue when I arrived and eating first.
The second stage was taken at a more respectable pace but it too was flat; really flat. I know that as a fixer I'm supposed to like the flat stuff but there is a limit! I rode with a various people and the crack was good; but it was flat.
We rode along the flat for a bit; quite a bit; very flat, and then there was a rise, WHOOPPEE!! Not really a hill, but who cares? The down side was the down side for me as it was 1:10.
Arriving at the control in Thornton-le-Dale another randonneur and I stopped at the cross roads to turn right as some joker in a Lotus 7 drives across, towards us and up *our left*! His friend in another 7 managed to get the right side of the centre-line.
More face stuffing in the control. I spend far to much time in controls but I am just addicted to food. Ok, I may also be a lazy sod who likes sitting chatting and drinking tea.
The scenic bit in the middle was 'scenic'. Nothing very big but enough we nasty ones to make it hard work; and a great 'relief' after the flat stuff and very pretty. The two jokers in the Lotus 7s passed us at least twice more. Sad that people can't find anything better to do that drive round and round the same loop of road.. The control in the middle of this bit was the one disappointment of the day; the free food was, well, perhaps not of the usual AUK control standard. As an unfortunate result, there was a certain amount it that was not eaten by various randonneurs. Standing on my glasses did not improve the situation any for me.
We wandered out of the lumps and back onto the flat. Down to, and over, the Humber Bridge via another of those wonderful (ha!) (especially the approach) cycle paths obviously designed by people who wouldn't know a bicycle if it jumped up and bit them. I had been feeling a bit tired all day after my uncharacteristically poor night's sleep and I was now pretty well knackered. Somewhere in Lincolnshire I lay down by the roadside for ten minutes shut-eye. Two and a half minutes later a voice called down the road: "This is your wake-up call!" honk! honk! They weren't going to get away with that! I caught up with the rabble shortly. Jack, two other Englishmen and a Scot called Jim.
It was good to get in with a group going at 'my' pace since I had managed to leave my torch in Wales and didn't have any way of reading a route sheet after dark. Now I had others to do the reading for me!
As darkness gathered, or at least thought about it, there came a great crunch from Jim's bike. It turned out to be as serious as it sounded; the bolt securing the saddle to the top of his seatpost had sheared! We found all the bits but what to do with them? One of our party had a bolt but the threads didn't match Jim's nut and it would only go on half a turn. In the end we used this arrangement to prevent any of the bits from escaping and a spare toe-strap to holt the whole thing together (Ha! do that with clipless pedals). It seemed to work; after a fashion.
We wandered off into the night. I was tired. I was really too tired to be riding with a group but, being torchless, I continued. Apologies to those to whom my drowsiness was a little too obvious.
The last control was wonderful! I'm not just saying that because I got seven minutes kip amongst a pile of panniers but it was obviously run by cyclists for cyclists. I picked up the menu;
"Don't bother with that", barked Uncle Jack, "have the crumble and custard!"
"Tea and a crumble and custard, please." Perhaps I should have checked what the crumble actually was, or if there was a choice but why should I think when there's someone else to do it for me? It was good crumble, custard and tea.
A wet head appeared through the door and announced that it was "p*****g down!" The room virtually emptied as randonneurs ran out to rescue bar-bags, shut saddle-bags and get saddles in out of the rain. We had been thinking of leaving but we stopped thinking and sat down again until the rain passed.
The control was set some way off the route itself and so just as it had been for us on the way out, so we passed a string of groups riding groups on their way out to it as we headed back to the 'X'. Either there are an awful lot of cyclists happy to pay through the nose for their lights or cycle lights are brighter that I thought; I should get someone to ride my bike at me some time for comparison.
Anyway, the last bit was flat. Our group was now up to six or seven and included a native who maintained that it was as well to be doing this in the dark, because it was mind-numbing in the day time! I can't comment on that but it certainly was pretty flat. Not much happened; or perhaps I slept through it.
We finished as a bunch at five o'clock on Sunday morning. There was tea and grub and enough floor to get a couple of hours kip before riding down for the train.
Thanks to Pete and company for making the thing such a success despite 180 or so entries and an almost total lack of hills! Thanks to whoever unblocked the sewer and washed the car park. Sorry to the Seaways Cafe, because we blocked their toilets for them too.
I was thinking of nominating a 'man of the match' but it really wouldn't be possible. All the above did a great job; Jack was a great help to me when I was feeling totally whacked and just wanted to sleep in a hedge (serves me right for racing the first stage); Jim did well to ride forty or fifty miles with a toe-strap buckle rubbing the inside of his thigh (apparently there was blood on his shorts when he finished) and whoever it was that donated the bolt was obviously participating in the true spirit.
Alan Vance