Skegness to Colchester
Planned 129 miles
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| Hanging out the washing in Skegness |
Third time lucky. The last day was the first I managed to leave on time. It probably helped that I wasn't worried about getting the tent as dry as possible before packing - it was unceremoniously screwed up and stuffed in a bag. The same went for the rest of my kit, with the notable exception of food, which I wanted in the best possible condition and close to hand!
Today was going to be a battle on three fronts versus 1. Distance; the longest day of the trip at 129 planned miles - 2. The Elements; although it promised to be dry, the wind was still howling from the South and - 3. My backside; sore after day one, painful after day two, it was now agony.
I had taken account of some of these challenges in planning - In most cases, you control the distance, so I couldn't grumble about this one. The elements are also in the lap of the gods, so again, no complaints. The state of my rear end could have been avoided.
You are always going feel two days of 100+ miles on a bike but there are things you can do to minimise the 'sensation'.
Chamois Creme? Never used it, probably never will - its another of those lines I am yet to cross, like shaving my legs. I am led to believe, however, that Chamois Creme is a good thing that helps minimise the nasty effects of friction at the rear.
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| The offending item |
Saddle - that's the fella... biggest lesson learned on this trip - don't mess with a tried and tested saddle, and certainly don't change your saddle a week or two before a big trip. If you are going to stand any chance of surviving a trip like this in such a delicate area ( and I don't mean Lincolnshire), ride with a well worn in, well known, friendly saddle. I committed the cardinal sin and swapped my beaten up old Fizik Arione for a flash, tarty little Fizik Pave CX two weeks before leaving. A decision based purely on aesthetics came back and, literally, bit me on the arse.
I knew in the back of my mind this was a risk - I even took the remedial step of packing the Sudocreme. At least I wasn't going to get my welts infected. I was still using the stuff a week later, but am pleased to report that all is now well...
A mere 10 miles into the day, I felt like getting off and staying off. It had taken me just over an hour. The wind was ridiculous and Lincolnshire didn't help - pan flat, very few trees and roads that only seemed point into the wind.
I retraced my route from day two and ploughed on after popping a combo of ibuprofen and paracetemol, eventually grinding my way into Boston. I needed an espresso, cake and half an hour to pull myself together.
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| I got the message |
Retracing yesterday's route again, I stuck as far left on the A16 and A17 as possible to minimise the risk of being added to the very helpful roadside kill-count-ometer signs and eventually pulled into the service area at Long Sutton where I had hidden in McDonalds from the thunderstorms. This time I opted to revisit my childhood and settled into Little Chef for today's Breakfast Number Two. With another ibuprofen/paracetemol top up, I was in good form and ready to roll.
Wisbech became my next target and I discovered roads flatter and straighter than anything Lincolnshire had to offer. I had previously thought this impossible. Further into The Fens, the flatness and straightness of these roads would be consistently trumped.
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| A very straight, long road |
My mood darkened somewhat and having passed through Wisbech, 'The Capital of The Fens', and tweeting something about being stared at by too many "bog trotting Fen Monkeys" I hit upon the idea for a book - I would ride the nation, concocting insults for every town on my way. The combination of physical exertion, a mental inability to visualize getting home today and the unknown pharmacological effects of a sudocreme/ibuprofen/paracetemol/Little Chef Breakfast cocktail, led to something bordering paranoia. I was losing it a little.
I am not normally a swearer - my family would certainly attest to this, but when the going gets hard, and I am on my own on the bike, I will swear. I will do it a lot - sometimes mumbling, sometimes shouting. Its normally reserved for hard hills, but I discovered on this trip it is also helpful on the flat. I am sure I am not the only one - its something the cycling magazines will never tell you... the best aid to getting through a tough section on a ride is to swear yourself silly.
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| A very straight, long river |
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| 90 degree turn back into Norfolk |
I can't really say much more about the Fens, apart from repeat the obvious - they are very, very, unimaginably flat, they go on for ever, the skies are massive and everything is in straight lines, that go on, and on, and on..Take a look on a map at the line of the New (and Old) Bedford Rivers between Earith and Downham Market. Dead, dead straight.... oh and it gets a bit breezy.
Shortly after Littleport, I began to notice the appearance of some left hand drive cars. The proportion increased steadily as they heralded my arrival in Mildenhall, one of the few remaining, large US Air Force bases of East Anglia. When I was a kid they were all over the place and the Yanks were a very common sight - I also loved the skies being full of Phantoms, Thunderchiefs, A-10s and Hercules - this really took me back to the 70's and I was surprised at the size of the current Mildenhall base. They only seem to have the boring stuff here now though - I saw one Hercules and a row of KC-135 tankers on the apron and that was it.
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| Back to civilisation |
The landscape now changed, quite significantly and as I headed for Bury St Edmunds, I felt like I was back in familiar home territory. The roads were lined with trees, there were woods, undulations and bends in the roads! The pretty villages of my East Anglia returned and my mood lifted enormously. Once in Bury, I was reminded what a hill looked and felt like. I was pleasantly surprised my legs seemed to enjoy the challenge and the change in landscape led to some much needed shelter from the wind. My pace started to pick up again.
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| Last pitstop - Lavenham |
After about 12 hours on the road, I stopped for a breather and some malt loaf in Lavenham. I had been carrying this large malt loaf for the whole trip and it probably weighed close to a kilo... it is one of those foods that I love once I am eating it, but I need a forceful nudge to start it. This is why I was on day 3 and it was unopened. I took the plunge and within 10 minutes the whole thing had been devoured. I followed that up with some more of the dry oats/raisins/nuts combo of the previous day and took on a couple of pints of water.
I was now ready for the final push. I wasn't showing quite as much mileage as planned, so decided to take a slightly more roundabout route home, using parts of my regular training routes from Nayland to Bures, Wormingford, Fordham, West Bergholt and on to home.
Home. I had left Skegness at 06:30 and arrived just a shade before 20:00. 131 miles at an average of 13.1mph with 9 hrs 57 mins spent in the saddle.
My first solo touring trip had taken 3 days, covered 377 miles and despite the rigours of some parts, left me itching to do more. I really enjoyed the experience and would highly recommend it. There were times on the road that I wished I had someone with me to share a joke or a sight but for the most part, I enjoyed being able to plod on at my own pace. It also would have been nice to have someone around to share the breaks and the stories of the day but the overiding feeling was one of achievement and when I achieve something completely on my own it is a very satisfying feeling. You learn a few things about yourself too....
Some lessons were learned and wise words from many sources were confirmed - I plan to break some of these down in the coming weeks to a series of short thoughts on individual aspects of touring.
Thanks for getting this far with my ramblings!
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