Yorkshire Via Essex - 600km - 22/23 June 2019

I was meant to ride the North Coast Classic 600, however following the Tour of the Borders and Galloway that sore throat and flemyness turned in to a hard cough that floored me for a couple of days.  I contacted the organizer advising of my DNS and as I had train and accommodation booked I offered to help which gave an interesting insight into the other side of Audax seeing people arriving at the sleep control, the first riders alert as midnight neared and then as the night drew on riders arriving further into sleep deprivation, and then the later riders arriving with minutes to spare, a 5 minute power nap and off they went. The finish was a different experience again as darkness induced tiredness had been whisked away in the early evening, either by a good nights sleep or regular power naps.

Let sleeping Audaxer's lie...

The next weekend was the Borderlands Explorer another 600km, I started off feeling much better and I powered along the flat ticking away in a quick group, but as soon as the road went up I knew I wasn't right enough to ride the full 600, so after the first control I turned back to Gala and hung around the hub control for the weekend.  No eye opening tiredness, but other interests and riders arrived and told us of their plans, a sleep, carrying on into the night or perhaps packing the ride.  One rider returning having had a ride ending mechanical 10km into the final 150km leg.

Borderlands Ready to go... erm no.

After those two weeks off it was time for the 4th 600 I had entered, Yorkshire Via Essex; I decided to enter this for a number of reasons:
I wanted the novelty of a "flat" ride, there was only 2000m of climbing on the RWGPS link.
I wanted a ride where I would have to carry everything with me, this to mimick my need to do this on PBP.
I wanted something different, well Lincolnshire, Essex, Cambridgeshire and South Yorkshire are "different"

My window at the Sleaford Travelodge looked out onto the A17, a constant stream of vehicles slowing for the roundabout where it crosses the A15, the sun was low in the sky and an yellow glow lit this scene, sunset was on us already and darkness wouldn't be far behind, it isn't lost on me that I travelled far into Southumberland for the summer solstice, at home sunset was still half an hour away and darkness would be a function of the clouds with no night or astronomical twilight to be seen until mid-July.

Even as far south as Sleaford there is no night but Astronomical Twilight fell outside and I drifted off to sleep, unspoilt by the lack of darkness for the first time in a over a month.  I woke with my alarm, half 4 in the morning, I'd discussed with some other riders staying at the motel about riding down to the start together just after 5.  I had a small breakfast of tea and croissant ready as well as my kit sitting out and bike almost ready to go.

I waited outside for others to appear, and we rode in a small group into town, a slight descent involving navigating a one way system.  We were first at the station where the start was to be, a velomobile arrived and attracted attention, this would probably be the longest it would be in sight for most riders.  The organizer, Richard arrived telling us he had planned to ride with us but having already got his 600 on the Tour of the Borders and Galloway (I spoke to him at Biggar Sainsbury's) and after a late finish the previous night he decided not to ride.  A good group of riders were now congregated and I wasn't paying enough attention to the time, but more to who was there and who I might be able to draft.  Andy Berne another tall rider who I know I can get a tow from, though returning the favour is less common as he's a much stronger rider.  Suddenly 6am was on us, I didn't have my GPS on and feck...

The Velomobile pulled out and overtook everyone

I waited for signal and mapping to show up, and set off in pursuit. Traffic lights helped here and I was soon in sight of the back of the pack, we flew onto the quiet lanes towards Chatteris, I was behind Jim Hopper on the trike, a good sized pack just in front of him, the velomobile appeared from behind me, I didn't even know he'd stopped, then as a recumbent rider passed Jim's trike the Velomobile zipped past everyone in sight and was off into the distance, I wouldn't see him again.





The speed of the group started to pick up, a car behind me starts to pass, I'm behind Jim's trike and I'm faster than him today and he's not for holding the group but I can't pass because of the car, the gap widens as the car passes, I get round Jim and just like on moderate grades the group slips slowly from my sight; I'm dropped already.

Flatness as far as the eye can see

I was cursing, a compound of mistakes and I've missed the train, I'm fighting into the headwind alone, as a slight consolation Andy B now tells me he slowly lost the others, he made it round to Boston with a 27kmh average allowing a good sleep, I doubt I'd have held onto him.

I looked around, the cabbage fields went on forever, punctuated by the odd tree or wind pump, no sign of rising ground anywhere.  I scoffed as I battered through a village called "Peak Hill" but it turns out I had climbed to a whopping 5 meters above sea level without noticing it.

Fenland Friends

Riders started to pass in the other direction, the Fenland Friends Audax was running from Great Dunmow on what is essentially the reverse of the route with only a handful of routing variations and then mostly due to being diversions round roadworks in Lincoln that are more suitable for the direction and timing.  I reached our first control at Chatteris a name that was causing me some problems, a table set up outside the Green Welly café, I contrasted the Green Welly I know in Tyndrum to this location and got my card stamped before sitting down to a breakfast roll.

Guided Busway

Riding out of town it was flat again and I felt I was making a decent pace, suddenly my Wahoo screamed at me to turn left as I crossed something suspiciously like a level crossing, but nothing like a level crossing.  I remembered we were taking the path beside the guided busway into Cambridge moments too late and had to turn back to pick it up.  Things got busier as I rolled along, the occasional bus passed or stopped at stations, pedestrians with dogs, students on bikes, a roller blader.




The guided busway turned into normal roads, the cycle way switching from dedicated carriageway to painted lanes and back, and then through the centre of Cambridge though throngs of tourists, the pace dropped drastically as I threaded through a pathway created by a cargo bike, thankfully the tourist trap isn't long and I was soon back to painted lanes and bike carriageways along a busy main road.

I hadn't noticed the climb to Cambridge, but the climbs after were harder to miss, short sharp bumps mixed with the gentle rise taking me to the ride's highest point at 120m just after Safron Walden.  I don't watch much TV any more, and although I hear about shows like "The only way is Essex" my perception was formed by Spitting Image's  "Essex is Crap" song, I was however pleasantly surprised as I climbed and swooped down through pretty English villages, big towered churches, country pubs, floral displays and the second control in Great Dunmow.

Some riders were sitting eating a pub meal at the table next to the controller, but I decided having been warned about service time to go to the co-op a few meters away instead, it was only now I realized just how warm it was, with the headwind providing some cooling I'd hardly noticed but now I was feeling the effects of not drinking enough for the conditions.  I set off again into the rolling hills, I noticed that county marches are hardly marked on the road in England and I didn't know I had crossed into Suffolk at Clare where I picked a pub and made an impromptu stop for a glass of coke and water.

The next control was a receipt control at the end of a long broken descent in Red Lodge where I'd not paid attention to where the shops were, thankfully riders were just leaving the shopping centre and pointed me into it. Just under 12 hours and I was on 230km, not quite as fast as I'd hoped but still good going.  a couple more bumps and it was back on the flat, a brief shop stop in Whittlesey for another receipt and it was a long press back over Peak Hill to Boston.

Following Dave into the night

Darkness fell and the temperature dropped, I reached Boston McDonalds just after Midnight having caught a couple of riders, Dave and Phil who was on a high recumbent.  Dave and I discussed what our sleep plans were and we were both planning to Bivvy so set off to look for a spot together.
Somewhere in the darkness a low bright light was approaching, blinding me as it approached, the rider of the recumbent dodging rough surfaces by riding on the crown while I was doing the same, we both dodged out the way at the last minute, neither quite able to work out where on the road we were. The first of the Fenland friends had passed in the night.

Dawn

Somewhere on the water railway we went under a bridge, a heat trap that felt warm, we decided to try bivvying there and got set up.  Bikes whizzed past in the night, I slept, and then I woke up cold. I decided to pack up and move on, Dave woke and I told him I'd probably see him in Lincoln McDonalds.  I crawled along the Water Railway path at Sunrise, I remembered the advice of many 24hr MTB riders, "The hours around sunset are the most amazing but also your slowest".  I'd never noticed it on the MTB, but I was noticing it today.  I rolled past benches and even an old Plate layers hut, I wondered if the hut would have been a better spot but decided against checking.

 Rejoining the road at Washingborough I was presented with a fantastic bus shelter with 4 walls and a wooden bench, balls.  I carried on to Lincoln, winding through bike lanes that disorientated me, a late turn up a bridge in the wrong gear almost had me off the bike, through a retail park car park and I could see the Golden Arches ahead but with limited idea of how to get there, eventually I made it.

I ordered pancakes which I dispatched in short order, but took more time over my drink.  Dave arrived and ordered breakfast, next thing I knew I was lifting my head off the table and Dave had moved to comfier seating, I'd also managed to give my battery pack and Wahoo full charges from the system, I discovered I'd been asleep almost an hour!

Lincoln itself is hilly!

We set about the climb up through Lincoln, a real hill here touching 7% in places only to lose most of the height in a plummet and then regain it in a similar steep hill; on that hill I lost Dave.  I made a mistake while wobbling and put my wheel in the gravel at the side, I stopped and knew I wasn't going to get going again, my bladder told me I needed the stop anyway. I pushed to the top and set off again, a decent descent through Kirton Lindsey and I was skirting Scunthorpe, I started to recognise the roads from Great North Road and the Arrow.  Goole was getting closer, and I was going well, there is nowhere to hide from the wind on the Isle of Axeholm but I wasn't wanting to think about the return leg quite yet.


I took a rest before riding over the bridge at Gunness, and then again at the shop in Keadby on the other side, 28 hours in and I wanted a second breakfast, Goole isn't far from here but it felt like forever as I caught the procession behind an oversized load that had just left the docks, it took me a while to realize that there was a shared use path alongside the road and taking to this I whisked myself past the queues of traffic once I knew there was going to be no more conflicting manoeuvres (right after it had gone the wrong side of a roundabout and clipped the kerb in the process), photographers were up the road from it as well making short jumps between photo opportunities and the challenge now was getting across the junctions with vehicles stopped on all sides I had to wind my way round them to use the crossings.

Pump or Mill?

At Goole I'd decided I wasn't having a McDonalds, there was the choice of a chain pub or a subway; I opted for the subway it would be faster and I could see the bike.
As I sat eating a steak sub I saw a couple of riders leaving, one in a VC167 jersey but they didn't appear to have the height to be Andy and I didn't see Dave moving around either.
I set off on the road back to Goole docks, free flowing again after the oversized load had passed, I turned into the wind as I crossed the bridge over the docks; the impact on progress was felt in the legs and body, thankfully this leg was taking me to Gainsborough rather than back the way I had come and things started to get lumpy after Crowle, climbing and descending 15m bumps along the way.

Street Art

I saw the photographers car again, along with a small crowd watching the oversized load which had now turned into a field.  The road got busy as I plugged along and then oddly as soon as I crossed the march into Nottinghamshire the roads went quiet, the riding was pleasant again, though I didn't feel I had much left to give it.
I had a couple of bus shelter stops before Gainsborough, one in a nice box with bench out the sun, the other in what was more a village meeting place, a big circular hut with fences for sides, the first in Missingham, the other in Idontknowwhereborough.

Generic Flatland view

I reached Gainsborough and pulled into a pub car park, it was busy, very busy and I decided it wasn't the time or place for a pub lunch, even though that was what I was wanting but the chances of getting it at 2 in the afternoon seemed low.  My cranks had been coming loose again despite tightening the lock nut and the main bolt so I tightened them up, I think despite many reliable years on a previous bike their time is up for me.  There was a climb to a bridge and then a descent to a junction with a petrol station, I went straight for it and raided the shop of what I felt I needed, coke, sweets and pies.

I sat on the step of the forecourt with my bike leaning against the AdBlue and Coal, and as I was contemplating a bite out my Chicken and Mushroom slice Dave appeared.  After I had the unplanned stop on the hill he'd held a similar pace and was just ahead all the time until my Gunness and Keadby stops, riders with more pace and better sleep in them had passed me as I shopped and he had managed to get a tow from them to Goole where they had made use of the McDonald's, I hadn't needed to ride alone at all if only I had been able to tolerate one more Chicken Legend.

Following a laden rider through Cambridge

Other riders appeared in the forecourt but they weren't looking very Audaxey, having just been for a relatively gentle spin in the nearest hills.
Dave spoke to them as he ate and I sauntered over once I'd found the energy, and then we set off again, a long drag back up the hill to the top of Lincoln where we made a last stop to top up liquids at a petrol station.

As we were setting off I spotted a rider entering the roundabout, suddenly my tiredness disappeared and I launched myself down the hill, trying to catch the unwitting victim, I was catching, I was aware of cars behind me not overtaking, I started to wonder if my speed was anywhere near sensible, Dave was behind me somewhere, the rider peeled off into a residential street, my quarry gone by a chance of routing.  The traffic lights halfway down the hill changed to Red...



Dave screeched to a halt beside me and exclaimed something about not having a chance to look at his speed, and then the lights changed again, another kick and we were back at sea level and rolling well over the bridges. We regained most of the height lost on the other side of town, a short sharp climb followed by a lumping through countryside back towards Sleaford, on a tree lined road heavy drops of rain fell occasionally, enough to encourage the wearing of the rain jacket but never getting serious and thankfully we stayed dry.
We were soon rolling back into the car park of the Travelodge and obtaining our Sleaford reciept from the petrol station  to complete the ride, then settled down on the benches next to a shipping container and with a fantastic view of the pumps for a rest.

I checked into the Travelodge and then we headed into town to deposit our Brevet's in the designated postbox.
Not a bad weekend, but the company was essential to enjoying it, I never realized flat could be so hard to ride!