Tuesday of this week saw me heading South as part of my long distance training, so 0nce again I pointed myself at Land’s End. This time, however, I wasn’t soaking up the blistering sunshine, instead I was fighting a stiff headwind. As before, I chose to utilise the proposed route which we will be using in just a matter of weeks; it was a good opportunity to ensure my familiarity with the directions. I made some good time between Taunton and Tiverton into the wind, and now rain, but that is where events started to take a turn.
My speed was obviously suffering from the effects of the wind, but I didn’t pay much attention to this. At worst, I thought it would extend my journey by an hour – nothing too disasterous. I was soaked through, however, and on descents and exposed routes I was really feeling the chill. Upon arrival in Exeter I made the decision that I would stop and get something warm to eat, if nothing else, to boost my mood at being soggy and cold. There must have been something in the air, because I then decided that I would change my route and continue heading South through the Dartmoor National Park.
This was mistake number one! The road from Exeter to Moretonhampstead is very sharp, and unless you’re a super lightweight rider, the hills are enough to sap every ounce of energy from your legs. It took no time at all to be longing for the noise and busyness of the A30, but I’d opted for Dartmoor and so I was going to stick with the decision. Fortunately the roads were extremely quiet, so I was making the most of meandering across the roads, searching for any parts which looked even remotely flatter (I was desperate!).
Dartmoor
By the time I reached Princetown, I knew I was going to suffer with the rest of the ride. It concerned me that I was suffering so badly, so early into the ride (about 70 miles), and the remaining mile count was pretty daunting. To add to the situation, the rain then started much more heavily. In my opinion, Dartmoor in a rain cloud, with no view and nothing but rain drops stinging your face as the wind drives them into you, is not the most inspiring place; in fact it only inspired me to get out of there as quickly as possible (which I my speed wasn’t very fast!).
Tavistock didn’t come a second too soon, and neither did the pasty and cake which I vaguely remember chewing on their way into my belly. I was guzzling my fluids (based on a ‘drink only when thirsty’ approach) and was surprised to have consumed so much by this stage. The people in the shop were interested in where I had come from and where I was heading, certain that I had been too ambitious to plan reaching Land’s End that afternoon. For the first time I was actually listening to their doubts and thinking they might have a point… I knew I must have been tired to also start doubting myself about whether I would make it. But it was a real concern. I hadn’t felt this empty for such a long time – I didn’t know what I had done wrong.
Leaving Tavistock meant more hills and I continued at my sluggish pace. At first I convinced myself that it was a post-lunch slump and cycling slower would be best for my digestion anyway?! Well it would appear that I continued that line of thought all the way to the end!! I continued with the large undulations until I reached Callington, eyeing up every van which passed and thinking how easily my bike would fit in the back. I remember sitting in the draft of a Jewsons lorry, certain that I could fit in the flat bed, if only he was heading to Land’s End. But I was being silly; the only way I was getting to Land’s End, was by turning the pedals.
I took the advice of a ‘helpful’ policeman who sent me back up to the A30, informing me that it was no longer closed to cyclists during the roadworks which were taking place. It sounded like a good option, as it would mean zero navigation, and less of these sharp climbs which were emptying my tank every time. So following my sizeable detour to join the A30 I was much later than I’d planned…infact I had been hoping to be at the bottom in just over an hour (and only being at Launceston, it was obvious this wasn’t going to happen!).
Riders from the Bicycle Chain
I sat on the A30, listening to the roar of the traffic and getting soaked further by the spray from the road and the passing vehicles. But it did mean I was making ground, and my speed increased. Not to anything particularly impressive, but it was better progress than crossing Dartmoor. It was upon reaching Bodmin that my heart, my energy levels, and my remaining drops of enthusiasm disappeared. “Cyclists must leave the A30 at this junction” read the large digital sign at the roadside, the policeman parked by the sign confirming that I MUST leave as a safety precaution during the roadworks.
I think it was a combination of frustration, discomfort, lack of energy and loneliness which brought about my first bonk (energy crash). It was a pretty serious one and my speed dropped to what I kept reminding myself was a running speed. It was disheartening to think that I could run faster than I was currently pedalling. After continuing for 30 minutes, I had no option but to get off and rest. I sat at the side of the road and buried a packet of Jaffa cakes, a banana, two chocolate bars and a bottle of water. I then sat and shivered as I wished for the food to have some impact. With no change on the horizon I laid back, not caring about the rain and shut my eyes, resigned to the fact that I had nothing left to give. What was most worrying about this, was that I’d cycled just over 100 miles – hardly anything to write home about!
After such a long time of lying down in the middle of nowhere, I had to make some more ground on Land’s End. Time was getting tight and I was already so late for the group of Bicycle Chain riders that I had arranged to meet at the end. I kept making contact with Russ Coles, the man with the plan, and every time I called him, I was saddened to report that I’d made only 5 miles progress. The worst point came when he asked how much further I’d managed since we last spoke, and I was still sat in the very same place!! I bombarded my father with place names, asking in as few words as possible, the distance between certain places, basically clawing my way along the map. I’d given up worrying about time and hills, I just wanted to know miles (even between places which had no relevance to where I was cycling?!!). I felt pretty horrendous at this stage and in all honesty, I wanted to be as far away from my bike as I could.
I was incapable of retaining information by this stage – I’d ask for directions, think I understood them, then have no idea about even the first instruction. I eventually met one woman who was right on my wavelength… The conversation went something like this:
“I need to get to Hayle”
“OK mate, turn right, go straight”
“Is that it?”
“Unless you want to go the long way”
Perfect. I turned right, went straight and just twenty minutes later I found the Bicycle Chain folk, with a curry already ordered for me. I was unsure whether a curry was the right option, but it was food, and plenty of it, so I gratefully accepted and sat down to fill my boots with as much as I could.
Bicycle Chain riders at Land's End
We then had the pleasure of cycling all the way back… yes, back exactly the same way that I’d just come down! It was a taste of what is to come, but I am hoping against all hope that I don’t feel so terrible when I get to John O’Groats. It will be a long return journey if that is the case! It was amazing having company and some people to talk to, joke with, and share the experience of the journey down. This alone was enough to lift my spirits and put some energy back into my legs. I still wasn’t too much of a fan of Dartmoor hills on the way back, but thankfully this time the weather was wonderful. Bright sunshine, amazing views and warmth meant that it was far more pleasurable. By the time I managed to roll back home, I was only too pleased to gulp down a piping hot mug of tea and all the biscuits and fruit I could lay my hands on.
