Bridgwater to Tintern

Clothes

Our ride this morning went swimmingly for the first five miles but we were then held up for perhaps twenty minutes by a great many cows on their way to be milked. Any advantage my little group may have had (and yes, I do know it’s a holiday and not a race) was wiped out as we all walked slowly behind the last cow wondering when they were finally going to turn off into a field.

The back ends of some cows

The back ends of a load of cyclists

But the photo above got me thinking about what you wear when you ride a bike (or what Rapha, the high-end bicycle clothing company, would call cycling apparel). When Ian joined me yesterday he was wearing a very sensible bright orange T-shirt, but my companions and I are nearly all wearing a tight-fitting collared jersey with a full-length zip and three pockets at the back, sometimes advertising Sky TV or a bicycle manufacturer. Why this particular style? Do we get any marginal gains from such attire?

I admit that I gave quite some thought beforehand as to what I would wear during this ride. For my top half I quite liked the idea of having no advertising and no artificial fibres, so I went with Roadrags: “A line of cycling wear which is not only remarkably stylish and comfortable, but also breathable, odour-resistant, and environmentally sustainable.” It sounded unimprovable, but as a friend pointed out, the merino jersey had an alarming tendency to droop whenever you put anything in one of the back pockets—a mini pump, energy gel, phone or wallet. This not only looked silly, but it was a real nuisance when the back of the jersey got snagged under your saddle. Evidently, Roadrags are really good for posing moodily in cafés—and road cyclists really enjoy posing moodily in cafés—but they aren’t so good on the road.

So instead I went to Bon Velo, my fantastic local bike shop, and bought one of their jerseys. The great thing to remember when buying bicycle jerseys is that the sizes are based on the average person in the peleton of the Tour de France; they are not based on the average person on the street. So what might be a medium on Chris Froome (height 1.86 m, weight 68 kg) or Geraint Thomas (1.83 m, 71 kg) might be a little tight on you or me. With this in mind, although I am a medium in almost everything else, I went for a large, and I’m pleased to say that it is only slightly too snug.

Since then, however, I have discovered the wonderful Fat Lad at the Back cycle wear. Now you’re talking. It’s sized for normal people, so I am a medium again, and it is cut for what you might call the fuller figure—for those of us who may have acquired a little avoirdupois in later life. It also eschews the flamboyant logos that I hate so much. It’s not made of merino, but that does mean the pockets don’t droop and you can carry everything you need. And the style minimises wind resistance and makes you look as if you’re a cyclist. So of course you go faster too!

Over the next few days I’ll have a think about cycle shorts…

Cycling

Returning to why I’m here, I should say first that it was a fantastic day. I cycled with Allison and Lisa, and I am grateful to them for helping keep me going. The first section was on the Somerset Levels, and how nice it was to hear the word ‘level’ applied to part of our ride.

Illustrating the Somerset Levels at the start of our ride

This flat section was followed at about 20 miles by Cheddar Gorge. I had been slightly nervous about this, because it’s another long climb, but it worked out pretty well. Am I getting fitter? I doubt it. But it was impressive and beautiful. Why have I never been here before?

Lisa cycling through Cheddar Gorge

Lunch followed at about 40 miles, but not before Allison had been stung by a wasp and later had serious chain trouble, only to make the cardinal error of wiping her oily hand on her face:

Oil

Then it was over the Severn Bridge and into Wales. The bridge was incredibly windy. I lost a camera case when i was trying to take a photo, and almost lost my rain jacket.

Looking east on the Severn Bridge

Your jacket is about to fly away!

Into Wales

From the bridge it was a fairly easy run into Tintern, but we were all feeling pretty tired by then. Not so tired that we couldn’t take a photo of our bikes and the Abbey, though:

Tintern Abbey and my bike

I was reminded of the times I came to this part of Wales with my school, and indeed with old friends like Ian. We would visit the castles at places like Chepstow, Raglan, Grosmont, Abergavenny and Usk.

As in previous blogs, here is today’s ride, followed by how far we have come so far:

Today’s route

How far we have come, and how far we have to go!

Tomorrow will be 80 miles—the longest yet. Will we make it? I expect so.

Whiddon Down to Bridgwater

This was meant to be an easier day, and if Rob from Bike Adventures says cycling 59.2 miles and climbing 4501 feet is an easier day, then who am I to argue? But I found it tough going again, especially the climb over the Quantock Hills at the end of the day (see below). I confess I had to get off and walk at one point, but I did use the opportunity to take a photo.

The route

View from the Quantock Hills

But I am getting ahead of myself. The day started earlier than usual, and I set off for Crediton to meet Ian, who had arrived with his bike on the train. We have cycled together before, but not much and not recently—we did the sea-to-sea about thirty years ago, some cycling with Oli and Sue in the West Country after that, and (some of) the Reivers route about a decade ago. We slipped right back into it, though, and established a companionable pace. We passed Bradfield Chapel (I wish we’d gone inside) and Bradfield House, and took a selfie…

Bradfield Chapel (1)

Bradfield Chapel (2)

Bradfield House

Selfie

Soon afterwards we passed from Devon to Somerset…

Progress

It was a frustrating day gastronomically because pubs in Devon and Somerset seem to be closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, so there were no opportunites for lunch, and indeed there were precious few chances to re-fill our water bottles or buy a sandwich—what happened to the village shop?

Ian left for home at Milverton (it was great to see him), and I carried on towards the Quantock Hills, pausing to take a photo at what I think was Crowcombe station. If so it’s a site that was used in the filming of A Hard Day’s Night. I hope someone will correct me if I’m wrong.

Oli corrected me: that was Bishops Lydeard I photographed!

Station

Then to the Quantock Hills and a brilliant downhill stretch into Bridgewater.

Leaving the Quantock Hills

Tomorrow we head into Wales, which feels like progress. But here is how we stand this evening. There is still a very long way to go!

Progress!

Oh, I nearly forgot—just for Louise Wood, here are my data:

A numbers game

Par to Whiddon Down

Bicycles

Readers of the road cycling literature will be familiar with Lance Armstrong’s It’s Not About the Bike, his own version of his early life. Less well-known is Rob Penn’s It’s All About the Bike, Rob’s amusing and informative account of how he built his dream machine (seriously, it’s a great read—don’t miss it). For many reasons I tend to Rob’s view, and this blog begins where the last one ends—about my bike. Along the way I’ll answer my friend Chris Bird’s Twitter question, where he asked whether I had bought the Di2 version of the Mason. More on that later, Chris.

I have bought a few bikes in my time. The first serious machine was from Pete Matthews in Liverpool, in about 1993. I had just come into some money, and there was about £1500 left over once we had built a new garden pond. I scoured the internet to find the best bespoke bicycle builder, and happened upon Pete. His main claim to fame was his wheels—they’re strong, light, and built just for you. However, he also designed frames, and these too were strong, light, and built just for you.

If you think the size and shape of your bicycle frame depends on nothing more than your height, then Pete has news for you. Height, inside leg, length of femur, length of trunk, length of arms, width of shoulders, your weight…you name it, he measured it. And six weeks after my fitting I had my beautiful black bike. The frame was made of Reynolds 853 steel, the groupset (the brakes and drivetrain and so on) was Campagnolo Daytona, and the wheels were Pete’s own Pianni brand. I still ride this bike most days to work. It’s been re-sprayed and I have upgraded the groupset a little, but the wheels are the same, and after 25 years they still run beautifully.

Since then I have bought a fixie in French powder blue from Mercian cycles in Derby (where I was fitted on a special sizing jig), a folding Bike Friday from Eugene Oregon, and a blue Brompton S2L (made in Brentford and then Greenford and sold by Bikefix).

So why did I need a new bike for my LEJOG trip? Well of course I didn’t. I could have put a new groupset on the old Pete Matthews to give it a wider range of gears, but I was quite happy with the gearing for my regular commute, and I didn’t want to spend about £1000 to make the bike probably less useful for its normal purpose. The fixie was no good, and nor were the folders, so a new machine was clearly the way to go.

So I scoured the internet again. It seems that framemakers are busier these days, and any bespoke machine wouldn’t have been ready in time for my ride, so I went for an off-the-peg job instead. To a man used to bespoke frames this was a risk, but it turns out that I am not an unusual shape (well, not a very unusual shape), and that most off-the-peg bikes would fit me OK.

Initially I was very taken with the Fairlight Strael, but so popular is it that this wouldn’t have been available in time either, so I ended up with the Strael’s arch-rival, the Mason Resolution2. The reviews were terrific, I liked the look of the frame, the fact that it was made of Columbus steel made a change from my usual Reynolds, and I liked the beautiful paintwork. I went to Lancing, to the barn where the cycles are assembled, and I loved it. I went for blue with black handlebar tape, and rather than Campagnolo I opted for a Shimano groupset. For the long-distance cyclist Shimano is preferable because spare parts are more easily found.

And did I go for the top-of-the-range Dura Ace Di2 Hydro? As Chris Bird will know, this is lightest version you can get, and with electronic gear shifting as well as hydraulic disc brakes. Alas no. Referring back to my previous blog, our car is worth a paltry £200, so if you do the multiplication you’ll work out that I have the Ultegra groupset with hydraulic brakes—and very nice it is too. I’ll write more about the bike some other time.

Cycling

But what of today’s ride? Quite simply, it was the hardest day I have ever had on a bike. It started out tough and got tougher. Perhaps the best thing is to start with the stats, and here they are:

Stats

Although we only (only!) cycled 56.6 miles, we climbed 6391 feet—that’s 1.21 miles. If you have a moment, stand outside, look up at the sky, and imagine going up 1.21 miles. Or to put it another way, imagine climbing the equivalent of Mount Loma Mansa, the highest peak in Sierra Leone (isn’t Google wonderful?).

We started by climbing out of Par through some rather attractive sun-dappled lanes, and although it was steep at the beginning the climbs weren’t too long and there were some compensatory dowhills that made up for it.

Dappled lane

But then we started heading up towards Bodmin Moor, and here it got tough. I was fortunate to join up with Allison and Lisa, and together we kept ourselves going as we passed King Doniert’s stone and reached the first cafe stop, where quite a few of us were already gathered. On the way to the cafe there was some excitement that we were to pass through Minions, and I was pleased that so many of our number were aware of the latest advances in DNA sequencing technology, but I think the word means different things to different people.

King Doniert’s stone

It’s not about the DNA sequencing technology

Refuelling—Rob from Bike Adventures on the left, Lisa in the middle in the foreground and Allison behind her

So far so good, and from there we went up and down to the River Tamar, where Cornwall becomes Devon. We regarded this as progress, with the sign a welcome sight.

Into Devon

The view from the bridge over the River Tamar

But then, after lunch in Tavistock (bacon roll), it got tough, as you can tell by the fact that I took so few photographs. We climbed and we climbed and we climbed onto Dartmoor. It was steep, it was relentless, it was hot and it was sunny. I had refilled my water bottles in Tavistock, but I was really worried that I’d run out before we got back to civilisation. (I did, in fact, but it wasn’t catastrophic.) This is where it helps cycling in a small group, and the three of us (metaphorically) pulled each other up the hills. Here are Allison and Lisa at about 40 miles, at what may have been the highest point.

At the top

It rolled a lot after that, and there were some more steep climbs. My technique was to get up as much speed as I could on the preceding downhill stretch and then try to blast up the hill. This usually worked for about 10% of the climb, but the rest was just grind, grind, grind. But then we had a left turn, a fantastic long ride off the moor, followed by just a few more difficult bits (one where we had to get off and walk) before reaching our hotel at 5:15. The hotel let us take our bikes into our rooms, so having written so much about it above, I’m pleased to show a photograph below.

The bike

I showered, did my washing, and lay on the bed groaning for a bit until Ian arrived. Ian is my oldest friend (I mean the friend I have known for the longest time) and he moved to Devon a few years ago. He kindly came to the hotel and we drove off to Chagford for dinner and a long chat. Great to see him again, and with a bit of luck he’ll join me tomorrow on the next section of the ride. As we left the hotel for dinner, at about 7:00, we heard that only ten out of eighteen of us had yet arrived. There’ll be some tired legs at breakfast tomorrow.

Here is Ian, and a view of the sky while we were having dinner.

Ian

Sky

And what did we achieve today? This:

Today’s ride

Which again looks impressive until you look at this:

Putting it into context

But we have only done two days out of fourteen, and I have every confidence we’ll be further on tomorrow. Watch this space.

Land’s End to Par

I guess there won’t be that many people who will find this blog interesting—in particular, it won’t be terribly different from the many other blogs that have been written with exactly the same title. But it’s a useful aide-memoire for me, so on we go.

Our hotel; bike store to the right and restaurant to the left

Day one proper started with various attempts to break the record for the biggest breakfast ever consumed, followed by last-minute panics about our bikes. One poor guy kept having a puncture—every time he installed a new inner tube and put on the tyre, the tube burst when it got to 100 psi. It eventually turned out that there was a slight and invisible protrusion from the wheel, where the inner tube sits, so the fix was simple and (as far as I know) he got through the day without incident.

Of course we had our photo taken by the famous sign. It turns out you have to pay to do this, and the group picture will be emailed to our leader Rob. But I did manage to get a snap of Father Paul and his friend from Kansas, and here it is.

Father Paul and friend

The answer to the next question is ‘no’, but his cycling jersey was cunningly adapted to allow him to wear his collar. Pretty cool.

We were given pause for thought as we left.

Be careful out there

It was cool and overcast as we set off, and I wished I had my (ahem) newly-acquired arm-warmers with me. Here is a typical scene—apparently the view is pretty spectacular if only you can see it. That’s Karen a little way down the road.

Mist

But by fifty miles the mist lifted, the sun came out, and I wished I had slathered myself in Factor 50. I now have a cyclist’s tan, of sorts. Here is what Cornwall looks like when the sun comes out.

Sun at last

The day was hilly—really hilly. I was glad to have an 11-32 cassette, although 11-34 would have been better. But the main problem, and the main worry for tomorrow, is the heat. Strava records my speed, heart rate, power, and the temperature. I can hardly believe it reached 122 Fahrenheit, but it’s clear how quickly the temperature went up. And how much my speed varied.

Data

I reached the hotel at about 4:15, had some orange juice and peanuts (hydration, protein, salt…), and then a shower. The question of fuelling myself is an interesting one. I nearly bonked once, and I really don’t want that to happen. Slower tomorrow, with more breaks…

This map shows how much progress we have made so far:

Not bad…

And this map shows how little progress we have really made:

A long way to go

And finally, it shouldn’t be about the bike, but I am jolly pleased so far with my Mason Resolution2. I have explained to some people that when I had our elderly Vauxhall Zafira valued on webuyanycar.com, I calculated that I’d have to sell 17 of our cars to buy the Mason. But I’ll cycle more per year than we drive the car, and it’s a beautiful machine, so I think it’s money well spent.