June 22nd - All change!
71.1 miles – total so far = 303.9
3,560 feet of climbing – total so far = 22,367
Max elevation 974 feet
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On the day that I share these words to the world and my reader, there are 9 people preparing to attempt a world record JOGLE. 4 riders rotating, less than 48 hours from start to finish, average speed, something over TWENTY miles an hour (note, not kilometres, miles).
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They set off tomorrow morning at 10 from the JOG bit, hopefully the Scottish forecast is as inaccurate as it often was for me. Good luck all.
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Day 4, another short one today, only just over the 70-mile mark, and it is a day of change.
Since meeting up in Penzance on Saturday afternoon in the sun, Helen and Steve have been ever present, brilliant support, feeding, drying, warming, funding, encouraging, sharing the emotions, the car that I look for, in fact, just part of the ride. And today they will head back home.
I know them far better now than I did at the start, nothing like this type of adventure throwing people together to get past any polite facades. I will miss them, but I have firstly Ross and Glenn, a couple of cycling buddies joining me, and then Jenni and Ruth, wife and daughter will meet us in the evening.
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After a slightly more healthy breakfast than usual, I head off with heartfelt thanks to Bill and Mon for putting up with us and putting us up for the night. There will be more cousins on the road north.
The first part of the ride is fun as within half a mile I am slightly lost! This bit was a variation from the planned route anyway, where I had picked up tips on the best way to get to the Motorway and as any good man will do, promptly forgot them. Lots of cars down this quiet track, cars in that it is where some manufacturer stores a lot of cars before sending them on to be sold.
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I put myself right and am soon on the M5. Well, on the cycle path at the side of it.
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This leads straight away to the first slightly scary bridge of the ride as I go over the River Avon. Very good views shall we say.
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At the end, I drop off the M5 and start weaving my way around the edge of Bristol. This bit of route worked really well, as it was very quiet funny little lanes and cycle paths down a slim green corridor between Bristol and the M5. I cross the M5 and then the M49, and then back again, but not the M5 at first. After 12 miles of quiet flat riding, I join the A38 for a short while, cross the M4, then back onto a small lane, cross the M5, there are a lot of motorways around here!
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I am riding on more lovely quiet country roads though. The miles are going by steadily enough, and I pass through Gaunt’s Earthcott, then Earthcott (apparently unclaimed), Itchington and arrive at Tytherington after 18 miles, where the first meet up is scheduled.
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I am pedalling steadily through the village looking around for the team and obviously not looking that well as suddenly there are shouts from behind me, I have ridden past them! Quick U-turn and then there they all are. Helen and Steve of course, but now supplemented by Ross and Glenn and the Proper car. Proper being the name of the shop that Ross has in Hassocks, café and cycling, always a good mix and we will be giving them good publicity through the west of England.
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As always, Steve and Helen have the food all ready and I tuck into my usual mixture of sweet things, chocolate, cake, Geoff’s Bakewell tart, protein shake, water and a few other bits. Ross and Glenn seem to be taking forever to transfer all the provisions to the new car, mostly because there is still rather a lot of it.
Helen comes back over to the car after getting a very good cheap coffee in the little shop that is by the car park and talking with a lady who has just come out of the shop. Helen says that the lady has popped some money into our tin, another wonderful person.
The plan is that one of Ross or Glenn rides and the other drives so I get some company again over the next day. We had discussed who would do what shift, as stops are set for Quedgley and Ledbury. As there is a bit of a hill at the end of the day, and Glenn is getting on a bit, Ross draws the short straw for first and third spells with Glenn getting the mostly flat bit after Quedgley around Gloucester.
Glenn says he only called out as I went past because it was raining and he didn’t think he was riding this bit so he was happy enough for Ross to have to put on the waterproof.
With all food moves done, kit and bags transferred, checks to make sure that my spare pants haven’t made a dash for freedom in Helen and Steve’s car and then that’s it, time for more farewells. Really sorry to see them go, and grateful for how brilliant they have been over the last six days since they picked up the bike Thursday evening. It has been a bit of an emotional roller coaster at times, but then this was never going to be just about a bike ride.
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Ross is clearly more manly than me as he is riding in shorts as opposed to my long legs, and Helen is fascinated by his shaved, waxed, buffed shiny legs. That was only confessed much later though… Glenn reckons that the wax helps the rain run off the legs and he stays dry, maybe I should try this, maybe not.
We briefly discussed if Glenn was wearing long cycling trousers or if he was just very hairy and wearing shorts in effect with woollen leg warmers. The jury is still out and after a day of riding with him I am none the wiser.
Now Glenn did spot something about Steve’s bike that I hadn’t even though I had been looking at it off and on for four days. Steve’s bike, on the nice new bike rack was missing a saddle. We have not found out if it was just in the back of the car keeping dry or as Glenn seems to suspect as more likely, left at home meaning Steve would be unable to ride at all, such a shame for him!
After 30 minutes, there is no more putting this off and Ross and I head out, after one final hug and good luck wish and then waving to the three left behind, we are off.
This first part of the ride with Ross is reasonably flat, and we turn West away from the Cotswolds, as they looked a bit lumpy. Get a couple of bits of that around Wotton-Under-Edge and Dursley
Having company again was good at the time, and as we rode along chatting about not very much in particular as you do when riding with friends, the miles slip by and maybe you don’t notice quite so much of the surroundings, but that’s a small price to pay. Until you come to write it up. Certainly seems to be the case as I don’t remember much about the road on this bit.
Now, Ross and Glenn had an early start and going along a quiet country lane, Ross declares that he needs to use the facilities. Unfortunately there aren’t any and as quite often happens with people in the countryside, I don’t think it is particularly a weakness of cyclists, he stops to pee into a hedge. I cycle a few yards on and discretely inspect a tree or a hedge or the sky. Ross re-joins me. He is laughing.
Apparently, as part of promotion for his shop, he had thought he might video the route on his bike camera. Sadly for him, he had forgotten to turn it off when climbing off his bike and it was only returning to the front of his bike he noticed the flashing red light indicating that his natural break was now digitally recorded for posterity.
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I was informed that piece of film would be lost and not available to enhance the website or twitter stuff etc. and I must say he has been as good as his word on this, no-one has ever seen Ross peeing in Gloucestershire.
Now, the quiet lanes end and we have a period of A38 heading towards Gloucester. Not too busy, but I had put on a diversion or two as we got closer to Quedgley. One of these involved a trip through a housing estate where we were accosted by a lady who seemed convinced that we were lost and offering directions on how to return to the main road and civilisation. Interesting to get an unsolicited offer of help when not needed.
As well as this excitement of contact with more locals, we received a text form Glenn on Ross’s fancy Garmin that gets texts, makes tea and also doesn’t warn you when you are about to film yourself having a pee, informing us that Glenn had turned his nose up at the suggested rendezvous as he felt it looked like a fuddy duddy old residential home who may not want fit young men in lycra exciting the residents, or even aging men in lycra making them feel ill, so he had decamped to the local Tesco’s on a big roundabout. We couldn’t miss it apparently, and we didn’t.
Glenn had made a valiant effort at keeping up Helen and Steve’s high standards of care by getting a Costas coffee and perching it on the roof of Ross’s Proper Coffee car. Interesting brand conflict.
Glenn had also picked up some sandwiches when looking for the old peoples home and then realised later he would have got them much cheaper at Tesco’s. Ah well, they were nice anyway.
Then Glenn and his hairy legs took over. This was going to be quite a flat bit, and going around the edge of Gloucester was a bit grotty and we did nearly got lost on cycle paths a couple of times. One of these times, Ross laughed at us as he went past, and shouted abuse.
I think though Glenn was to have the last laugh as over the day and a bit, as whenever Glenn rode, it was dry.
Now, as well as dry, this bit was very flat. Looking at the ride profile afterwards, there was about 17 miles where it hardly had a pimple to go over. After leaving Gloucester, we were on the main A417 for a while, before turning into a nice little country road again. Downside of this, or in some ways the upside was it promptly went uphill! Nothing too bad though and Glenn made it up with no problems, and then we went down again to rejoin the A417. I will get told off by Glenn for making him sound like a real old man. But I have the pen.
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Only realised when writing this now that we virtually drew the border around the edge of the Malverns, so did well to find flat bits for a rest.
We stayed on the main road until just after Hartbury when we had another detour from the A417 which also went up and down until Bromsberrow and then it was back on the A road all the way to Ledbury.
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What a charming town Ledbury was, or was that just because the sun was out at this point?
Ross had planned to meet us in the High Street, but where he had pulled in he promptly got moved on by the local rozzers, or at least a traffic warden meaning that we met up in a car park around the corner.
In the car park, we refreshed and the baton was passed to Ross. Ross however was too busy paying attention to a mother and daughter getting into an open top Merc. That sounds quite dreadful and is a gross exaggeration, but it is worth it to imagine him spitting tea out when he reads it. I am sure he was admiring the car.
Back on the bikes boys!
Glenn asks Ross while we are standing in the sun in the car park if he wants to wear his raincoat. Ross laughs, looks up and says no, it’s only 8 miles.
It was only 8 miles, but from Ledbury, we are straight onto really pretty little back roads.
4 or 5 miles in, just around Bosbury, remember the sun? It rained. This is where Glenn showed what a kind soul he is by pulling over and throwing the rain coat at Ross where it caught in Ross’s front wheel causing him to cartwheel off the road and down a bank.
I made that bit up. Glenn was at the side of the road holding out the waterproof to Ross as we pulled over to cover up.
Glenn was in fits of laughter though just at the fact that it was now raining!
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It was only a shower, and about a mile later, we could have taken the waterproofs off, but only 3 miles to the end of the day, not really worth it. We’ll just cook a bit for now.
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We now head into what Glenn describes as Deliverance country as we cross the border into Herefordshire. I don’t think he is planning a return holiday there, but I liked it.
Herefordshire also has a little sting in the tail for us. Where Ross had said he would ride this last bit to even up the miles a bit and as there was a bit of a hill and we did want to look after the old boy, what he hadn’t realised was that parts of Herefordshire resembled Cornwall.
I don’t know if by now I was just used to some hills as it didn’t register as anything particularly dramatic for me, but Ross grumbled a bit when he found that with the gradient, he couldn’t lean forward to help climb as then his back wheel span where the road was damp and he couldn’t sit back to put weight over the wheel as then his front wheel kept lifting off the road and he didn’t have his climbing cassette on his bike. I was oblivious to this apart from the odd grumble about what a stupid something hill this was.
Glenn wouldn’t have liked it, poor old boy.
In fairness, I think it peaked over 20% or something like that, maybe odd bits of 24/5%, but on checking my blog I see that bits of Col de Frome Hill are reported at 27%. Maybe he had a reason to moan a bit.
As you expect, when at the top, it’s a wheeee down the otherside and then we swoop around a bend to see the pub that marks the end of the days riding in Bishop’s Frome. Looking at the picture at the end of this stage, I see actually we had stopped and taken the waterproofs off. Also, I am still in short sleeves. Must have been a nice day.
Glenn was there and first thing he asks was how did Ross like the hill? Nuff said.
Also there, Ruth and Jenni.
Now, much as I love Ross and Glenn in a manly cycle buddy type of way, it was great to see family. And lucky Jenni, after we sorted out what to do with the bike as the landlord for some reason was less enthusiastic about a grubby old bike going into his newly decorated bedrooms and it ended up in a shed (hope it wasn’t lonely), Jenni got the benefit of inspecting the saddle sores to see how they were progressing.
Still going the right way so slapped on another dollop of Butta (I must decide how to spell it) and then we could start thinking about din dins.
Before that, what was to become a much loved part of days, the sit down and chat a bit about the day while sorting things out. In this case, in the sun outside the pub before doing other things. There is a wonderful camaraderie that comes after big efforts, and todays ride was no exception. You don’t need to say anything, just look and smile gently.
Also, there was the first check on tomorrows route where straight away Ruth starts showing her skill in planning, although at this stage it is only really thinking about the last stops as Glenn and Ross are on point duty for the early part of the day.
We set it up so that Ross gets the first bit, big hill in there, and then Glenn. This time he gets a big hill too although at this stage we didn’t realise quite how big. After that, they are heading back to Lewes to vote in some referendum, so it’s over to the girls and we plot two more stops as it’s a long day, 89 miles.
That is all tomorrow, but it feels already that Ruth is stepping up the planning level to new heights.
Now, Ross and Glenn head back to their pub as they had turned their noses up at mine, and that gave me time to shower, scream a little, get dressed, less smelly and chill with Jenni and Ruth. They had not had any problems getting here and this was really the start of an equally big adventure for Ruth.
Aged 19, in a little Toyota Yaris with approaching a litres worth of engine, she has declared her intention of honouring Annie in a small way by driving all the way from here to John O’Groats. Having only been driving a relatively short while, and still not being a fan of reversing or parallel parking, this was to be quite an undertaking.
Sitting in the bar quietly now with pint in hand waiting for Ross and Glenn to return, Football on again, can’t remember who was playing tonight and can’t be bothered to look it up.
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Ross and Glenn return and I find myself quickly vindicated as it seems they are staying in a local version of Fawlty Towers. They were also the only people staying there. I may have done them a dis-service in that I think our place only had one room left, so they couldn’t stay there anyway as they weren’t sharing a room.
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In their hotel, there is no hot water. There is a dog. The dog licked Glenn’s legs, eschewing Ross’s smooth skin for the carpet feel. And the rooms are varied.
The boys had a key each and stood at the bottom of the stairs and just decided one would go left and one would go right.
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That left Glenn in a room with a view over the car park, whereas Ross was in a room without a window!
Glenn also had about 6 beds in his room, which apparently was the room that the landlord had been living in, and had kindly or absent mindedly or intentionally left in the region of 8 towels behind. Ross however had one bed, one towel and just about room to turn around. It did mean it was easiest to get dressed and stuff whilst actually sitting or standing on the bed.
I have mentioned that there may have been a problem with hot water, in that there didn’t seem to be any. Glenn ran his shower for a while and then leapt in for a quick cold shower. Naval training did him proud. Ross on the other hand failed to pluck up the courage to enter the shower as it was continuing to run at a glacial temperature so would arrive at the evening meal dirty, smelly, unkempt and self-conscious and I am sure this will help his self-esteem having it shared with the ten readers of the blog stories.
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More drinks ordered and then most of us plump for the curry that has been cooked from scratch by the landlady, and it was rather good.
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Over the meal and a drink or two more, this was probably about the most I would drink until the end of the ride, we shared the day’s highs, sort of lows, events, laughs and all in all had a really pleasant evening.
All too soon, time for bed as we did want to get a good start in the morning as it was a long days riding, have I already said that?
Ruth kindly offered to drop the boys back at their hotel, and that was that.
Night all.