"Fancy a long ride?"

 

So here is my first blog. It’s all well and good having some photos and stats on Strava, but I wanted something else to remember those long rides. Videos, nah, didn’t want to get into all that. I’m bad enough at faffing as it is, let alone all that stuff too. So a blog it is, I hope you enjoy it……..

“I have an all day 140 mile ride planned if you fancy it?” I messaged Jonny Lincoln, “Well why not?!” was the instant and assumed reply. It takes a certain sort of person to agree to this stupidity doesn’t it?

Fairly meticulous in my planning, I started planning the route and using the trusty Google Streetview, a bonus was finding out that Peddars Way has Streetview as a Norfolk County Council commissioned a ‘backpacker’ style version of the Streetview tech. Very handy to know what to expect as well as some Youtube videos of people riding the route.

So the route I had planned was Lowestoft – Bungay – Harleston – Brockdish – Diss – Knettishall – Onto Peddar’s Way heading north, all the way to Castle Acre – East to Reepham – onto Marriot’s Way into Norwich – Loddon – Beccles – Lowestoft, a good estimate of 140 miles, which ended up 142 miles, not bad going!

I had planned to use my trusty Beone MTB, I’d started converting it to a touring set up a few weeks before the ride, some rigid Exotic Aluminium forks (2kgs lighter than the old Suntours), a new double walled Raleigh 36 spoked rear wheel, new Schwalbe Land Cruiser tyres, touring type bars from Planet X, a lovely pannier rack with a day tripper Altura bag. Lovely old job, now just to get the bottom bracket sorted as it had some play in it and I couldn’t budge it. I took it to Lee at Bikespeeds in Lowestoft, explained my problem and left it with him. I got a message that day explaining how he (Lee) had tried everything and he couldn’t get the bottom bracket out. If Lee can’t then no one can. What now? I can’t afford a new bike, what else have I got? I picked up the Beone that day, thanked Lee for trying and referred to plan B. I already had this (Peddar’s Way) ride planned for a couple of weeks time. Rather than try myself to get the bottom bracket sorted on the MTB, I decided to swap everything over to a GT MTB that Lincoln gave me a few months ago. I had been using it, or more correctly, abusing it as a beach bike. Taking care of it, kind of, but not that much. My biggest concern was the forks, I’d only cut the steerer tube a week before for the Beone, but thankfully it was just the same length needed on the GT than the Beone, phew!

Everything swapped over to the GT fine, apart from the new rear wheel as the GT has discs, the Beone didn’t, ah well. It was ready a week before the ride. Due to a bizzare geometry, it took me ages to get the saddle height and position comfortable. Up, down, forward, back, repeat, jeez! I got there in the end.

Lincoln rode his Boardman CX bike, it looks faster, dropped bars, more aero than my sit up and beg position on my MTB. But the weight of it wasn’t much different to mine, plus he had nobbly tyres, only slightly but probably more effort needed than my land cruisers.

The day of the ride. The forecast was light wind and cloud, 12C. A front was heading over East early afternoon and was going to be cold after, down to about 6C. More layers needed then.

We left at 5:30am, hardly anyone about, beautiful! “Lincoln, what speed are we doing?” I asked although I knew exactly what we were doing, “Er, 14mph!”. “Yep, that’s about all I can do on this thing!” I replied. The GT rolled fine, but on the other hand it was such an effort to get it going, all in it was weighing 16kg, around double that of my summer road bike. In hindsight, that speed wasn’t far off the over all average for the whole ride, 13.4mph. That average really does not equate to the effort involved for getting that GT round that ride. A huge effort indeed, and in all honesty, an effort that I hadn’t really expected.

My aim was for us to be in Diss for 9am. Even after a stop in Flixton for a very milky coffee, we were in Diss for our second breakfast at 8:25am, wonderful! We sat and moaned about how the coffee machine was broken in the Morrisons we had stopped at, laughed at some Mallard Ducks that were loitering around in the foyer of the shop, talked about how much fun it had already been and our current dislike for the upcoming TT season, this seemed a million miles away from our current zone 2/touring headspace that we were currently in. After some much needed grub, we headed for Knettishall, along the beginning of the River Waveney. We joked how this is also called the Waveney Valley. Really!? A valley!? It may as well be called a canyon then, because it’s neither of those. We got to a little hamlet called Thelnetham, we stood at a junction making sure of directions, joking about how their probably hadn’t been cars along this road since 1926, then 2 appeared at once, shattering my illusions of the desolate place we had stumbled upon.

We headed off only to then to be greeted by an idyllic spring scene of St.Nicholas Church, surrounded by daffodils which were lit up in gorgeous sunlight. Once again we stopped, why not? What’s the rush on a ride like this?! I leant the bike against a gate, it started to fall and Licoln grabbed it. I laughed as I would probably just let it go, that heavy old thing would make a crater! Bike saved, Licoln’s shoulder damaged, plonker!

One of the things that I wanted to do on today’s ride was to buy something from an honesty box, as we left the church, I spotted an honesty box entitled “Mary’s Fudge”. My mum’s name is Mary so this seemed the obvious choice for a purchase, however Freudian it seemed. I had coffee fudge and I got Lincoln vanilla as we couldn’t agree on a flavour between us.

We soon rode into Knettishall, Lincoln commented how the landscape had changed. He’s right, the fir tree’s of Thetford Forest had appeared along with the gorse. It was a surprise to see some cattle grids, they should have been called pony grids as there were pony’s grazing on the heathland. A nice surprise as  I never knew they were there.

The westerly wind had been picking up and was becoming a bit of a chore, even on the fresh legs. We were looking forward to heading north on Peddars Way and we soon found the start, happy to be off road. Within half a mile we came across some thick, clay type mud, the kind of mud that if you stay still long enough you feel you would just keep sinking. We laughed and ran through, “Bloody hell! I hope it isn’t like this for the next 26 miles!”. Thankfully it wasn’t. We cleaned the bikes, not because we were bothered about them being dirty, just the practicalities of not having working gears or brakes, they were covered! After some pokes with some sticks and squirt of water from our bottles, we started again. I’d clocked a high barbed wire electric fence to our right, I didn’t really think too much of it. All of a sudden a dog appeared behind the fence, a bark that you would expect a criminal to hear at the harness end of a police officers lead. I don’t jump at much, but I did at this and so did Lincoln. Fearing that there was a whole in the fence and just generally to get the hell out of there, we just kept riding fast. Looking up I saw a couple of parallel planks across a ditch, this was the only way, great. A balancing act with a hound in tow. The fence stopped at the ditch, we rode straight over and stopped. As the gnarling hound disappeared we wondered what on earth it was protecting in the middle of nowhere.

We carried on along rolling trails at the side of fields that were home to pigs. We stumbled upon a ‘bomb hole’ with a couple of blokes on scramblers. It just looked dodgy, they glared and we carried on. A couple of minutes later they came hurtling past, a visible sign that they were up to no good. They soon disappeared into a layby near the A11. Naughty naughty!

Going from riding through the middle of nowhere to crossing the A11 was a bit strange, one extreme to the other. For as long as I can remember I’ve passed the signs for Peddars Way on the A11 and thought “I wonder what that is?”. I’m now so glad that I know. Me and Lincoln discussed how when we started cycling many years ago, other people rides and adventures seemed crazy. My example was hearing about someone who cycled from Lowestoft to Thetford, round the trails and cycled home again. At the time I remember how bonkers that was, I was now just as bonkers!

After the A11, we went to cross a very rarely used railway crossing, a lady was just opening the gates to drive across. “Are you on your own? If so, drive over and wheel shut the gates after you” I said. She looked shocked and pleased at the same time at our offer, it wasn’t that much of a big deal for us, but I guess not everyone is so polite.

A common saying with me and Lincoln is “I’m having a shit time!”, English sarcasm at it’s finest. Many times we told each other this, a shit time it was not, it was glorious. New roads, new trails, cycling and laughing with one of your best mates, wonderful!

“Jonny, hang on. There’s something in that puddle!”, we stop and see a frog poking it’s head out of the gravy looking puddle. “Allo buddy!” said Lincoln, I love it that I have mates that are as strange as me. 

We carried on towards the village of Stonebridge, through small little hamlets with geese and sheep. There was a slight down hill and I could see some water across our path. “Hold up!” I said as we came to a stop. Peddars Way was supposed to go under an old railway bridge, which it still did, but you would either need a kayak or some waders to go through it. I may have brought some random bits and bobs with me today, but a kayak and waders I didn’t.  We stood and had some of Mary’s Fudge and looked at the map for an alternative as we decided it was too deep to go through. If we were near home then we may chance it, but in the middle of a pretty epic ride!? Nah! We decided on a diversion of a couple of miles on another bridleway, a 2 mile ride to get the other side of this bridge that we could literally see. A long but worthwhile alternative. 

We had planned to turn off Peddars Way and go to Watton for lunch and re-join Peddars way afterwards. We said goodbye to Pedddars Way for a while and slumped sat outside a Tesco with a bundle of calories. Looking at the forecast as we stopped, the rain was coming and we could already feel the wind picking up. We decided to get going, no faffing, just eat and go. 30 minutes or so after stopping, we set off out of Watton, directly west and straight into the wind on a B road. The forecast was 40mph winds and on our heavy bikes, this was bloody awful. We only had about 3 miles on this B road before we joined Peddars Way again and turned right, turning directly north for a cross wind, but those 3 miles were terrible. Without saying anything, we just naturally took it in turns on the front. Lincoln then shouted “This is the slowest chaingang ever!!”. We were doing about 10mph, if that, and I was on the limit. Panting and gasping for air, thighs throbbing. Anything less and we would of stopped, gasping for air and just hoping this would stop soon we carried on. We eventually turned off and swore a lot about that effort. Looking back, that’s when things started to go dark for me, dark as in fatigue and the mind playing tricks. Thinking of Steve Peters Chimp Paradox (If you’re not aware of it, look it up), my chimp (Dave) was definitely talking and I was losing the ability to challenge him.

As we turned off the rain started, not torrential but steady. “If this is all it’s going to be then it’ll be alright” I said. Riding in the rain has never bothered me, it’s only rain. Riding in the rain and it’s freezing cold and blowing a gale is a different matter. As it wasn’t that cold is was fine. We carried on, since before Watton, we had only been on tarmac and we still were. We carried onto North Pickenham, where soon after the road gave way to a trail, it was a long steady climb, it didn’t even look like it was going up but the legs told me that it was. I was behind Lincoln, “Mate, just knock it back a bit, I’m nudging in the red and there’s no need too!” I said. “I was only going faster as you were still there”, brilliant, the go as fast as possible part of us is still there even when off road. We backed it off and ended up at the crossing at the A47. Wind blowing and the rain getting heavy we stopped and watched all the cosey people passing in their metal boxes on wheels, boring! They may look at us and think we ‘re crazy, but we’re having fun, a strange fun, but fun all the same. We crossed over the A47, I looked down and noticed a slight bulge in my tyre that made it look out of shape as it spun. We stopped and I inspected it, no real reason for the bulge but found a slight puncture, great! Just to our left was a petrol station and a McDonald’s. We decided to take cover in the petrol station and sort it out. Taking a positive from this, is was quite handy as the rain was getting heavier, judging by the forecast, it was going to pass quite quickly too. Fixing the puncture and grabbing a coffee gave time for the worst of the weather to pass. We looked at the route, by this time I was thinking of ways to cut corners, what do we have to prove to anyone? Did we have to go to Castle Acre? I had planned for us to stop by at my good friends Gordon and Helen’s in Reepham, apparently Helen had also made a cake, wonderful! They are the best hosts and this was added proof, as if any was needed.  I had initially told them we would be there for around 3pm, we were now aiming for 5pm. Gordon had changed some plans to be there for us so I had some guilt that we were running late, but there was nothing we could do. I kept him upto date, “I’ve never known Gordon to be annoyed at anything, I’m sure he’ll be fine” I said to Lincoln. Therefore we carried on north for another 9 miles to Castle Acre on dirt/mud tracks and country roads, no cutting corners. I’d had enough by this point. The legs were starting to protest at every incline and my trust in the bike, well, the tyres had diminished due to the puncture. Near to Castle Acre we took a wrong turn, I was annoyed that we had missed a turn, we stopped to look at Google Maps to make sure of the route, as I stopped I looked to my right and saw a Tree Creeper on the trunk of an oak tree, they are a small bird that scurry around the trunks of trees looking for insects to eat. Just seeing that helped to lift my mood, it’s strange how the smallest thing can have a big impact.

We doubled back about half a mile and followed the signs for Castle Acre and stopped next to a ford which we crossed via a small bridge. We were glad to be here as we could now start heading east in the direction of home, although this was only half way and was getting on for 4pm. Downing some more food my phone rang, “Hi, I can’t get my school tie off!” said my step-son, it’s funny how the mundane aspects of family life come hurtling back when you’re in different mindset, as I was worried about the next stop and the task in hand.  From about this point I started to feel sick, all a bit odd, I knew I wasn’t going to be, nauseus I guess you could call it.

We eventually found our way out of Castle Acre, from here to Reepham it was 22 miles. We headed for Great Dunham on country roads, after this we would be into Litcham and onto a nice rolling B road with a tailwind, bliss! And it didn’t disappoint. Heading east onto Reepham, thinking about the time and the route we had planned, we discussed missing out Marriots Way. Although it’s nothing technical, it’s still off road, would zap our energy even more and would obviously take us longer. We were both flagging at this point, we talked about how we both manage exhaustion, I often have a little sob, not often but it’s kind of funny. That’s when I know that I’m on the limit. I remember climbing off a road bike on my 6th attempt of St.Salvador in Majorca in one morning, standing there slumped over the bars, sobbing, totally exhausted, a totally different kind of effort but exhausted all the same. “Go on, you can do it!” I remember someone shouting, as I looked through my blurry eyes at them, wondering if they’re assuming that this was my only attempt of the mountain that day as most people climb it, go to the café at the top and go back to their hotel. Nah, not this idiot, 6 times that day, and yep, I did get on and get to the top, manage that chimp! Anyways, back to Norfolk…………….

We stopped somewhere before Reepham, Lincoln called his wife to update her where we were etc, after the call he said how he felt quite emotional talking to her, exhaustion is a strange one. Off we went, and talked about Marriots Way, should we or shouldn’t we? We decided not to. We got to Gordon and Helen’s, a welcome break indeed, at this point the Garmin had paused at 99.6 miles, 40 odd more miles to go. Gordon and Helen’s hospitality didn’t disappoint, excellent coffee along with Helen’s excellent cake. The trouble was I felt bloody awful and on the verge of chucking up. I knew I needed to eat the cake, eat anything for some calories as I hadn’t eaten that much since Watton 35 miles ago, it’s the slowest I’ve ever eaten cake in my life. Slow and steady and keep it down. Lincoln and Gordon both commented how I didn’t look great, Lincoln told me later how I looked a funny shade of grey. We were also offered some chilli, I declined as I couldn’t hardly eat the cake, plus it was meat so it was a definite no from me. Lincoln on the other hand inhaled it, good on him!

“Where have you parked?” Gordon asked, Gordon hadn’t realised this was as epic as it was, my car was outside my house and Lincoln’s was outside his. Gordon offered me/us a lift home on numerous occasions, I felt rough, but not that rough, we were riding home.

As we weren’t aiming to be out so late in the day, Lincoln hadn’t brought his all singing all dancing Exposure light with him, he had one to be seen but not one to see. I had my super bright Wiggle Pavo light that turns night into day, think a tribute act to an exposure and you’ll have an idea, nearly the same as the real thing but it’s just missing that added something. Knowing that Gordon loves his bike lights, I asked if Lincoln could borrow one, soon enough Lincoln had some light for the way home. After an hour or so we gathered our thoughts, I managed not to chuck and got ready, I looked at Lincoln, the thought of another 40 miles seemed awful, I felt awful! We said our goodbyes, I asked Gordon to message my wife to tell her where we were and we got riding with a fantastic sunset as a backdrop, we saw the sun come up and now we’re seeing it go down, what a long day.

We headed into Norwich via Hellesdon and I was struggling, the topic of the train kept coming up as an option between us both, an option it stayed, no way was I giving up, I’d be so annoyed if we cheated the last bit, it’s only a dark place, a very dark place, manage and get on. I heard someone to our left from some woods shout something, I assumed at us, I shouted back, …..oh dear.

Thoughts of endurance athletes such as Mark Beaumont, Jenny Graham and Steve Abraham were racing around in my head. No way was this one single ride anything like those riders do, day in day out. If we can’t  do 140 miles in a day, then I need a new hobby. Before my fascination with endurance riding, I’m pretty sure that I would have given in at some point, not doing Marriots Way was annoying enough.

We rolled into Norwich which seemed odd after 100+ miles of nothing much. My memories of the Norwich area a bit hazy, a mundane city that I have visited regularly my whole life, but what I do remember the amount of takeaways and how busy they were with deliveries. “What a strange world we have become” I vented to Lincoln. We passed the train station and I waved it goodbye. We talked about getting some food, Lincoln was fine and I couldn’t eat anything if I tried. We headed for Trowse, stopping at a bus stop, I dumped the bike to the side and laid flat on the bench, my back had been killing for a while, I slipped a disc nearly 3 years ago and it still plays up. There’s something about a hard, flat surface to help with an aching back. A couple minutes and we were off again, over the flyover near Whitlingham and onto Rockland St.Mary. “I’m gonna have to stop soon mate to lube my chain, it’s squeaking and doing my head in, yours is too!” I commented. We soon stopped, small tube of lube emptied on our chains and off again until somewhere near Claxton, “Mate, you’ve got a puncture!” I shouted to Lincoln/deaf lugs, how he couldn’t hear it I don’t know. A quick tube change and off again, heading for Loddon, still in this dark place in more ways than one. I knew a long drag of a hill was coming, bloody hills. Turn right at some kind of monument and up it goes up, soon enough we turned right. The legs protesting, heart rate somewhere near max, I started sobbing, a strange sob, I had the emotions of crying but couldn’t really muster the energy to cry, bloody exhaustion, it’s weird. Lincoln kept telling me we were near the top, I knew we weren’t but the encouragement helped. Once we were up what seemed like Everest in my sorry state, we rolled into Loddon. We decided to stop for some food, I actually felt like I could eat, oh the excitement! The third egg and cress roll of the day was consumed, well half of it.  I bought some Jaffa cakes, but I couldn’t eat any. I’ve never bought Jaffa cakes with the intention of eating them straight away and then not actually eating them, it must be bad.

Lincoln suggested getting the train from Beccles, his chimp was talking rubbish. 8 miles from home and getting the train!? Nah! It would be even worse than the train from Norwich. I said how we would get cold waiting for the train and in that time we could carry on and be home. We had a route planned off the A146, but I suggested we went for it along the A146, the most direct and the fastest route, I just wanted to get home, fatigue was getting greater. We set off and naturally took it in turns on the front, the excitement of being so close getting greater by the mile. I was feeling loads better, the best since Castle Acre which was 5 hours ago. 6 miles from home Lincoln said he needed to stop, “I was all over the road, it’s hard to concentrate”. As I was feeling better I said to him to just follow my wheel, 20 minutes and we’ll be home. I clipped in and peddled, knowing Lincoln would follow. We rolled into Lowestoft, reflecting on the day and so glad we made it. We laughed about how we would respond when people will ask if we enjoyed our ride. Fun, awful, ill, pain, laughs, great memories and a huge feeling of accomplishment.

We both got home at 10pm, we left at 5:30 am. I turned into the top of my road and sobbed, glad to be home and exhausted. I can’t remember much of the couple of hours between getting home and going to bed, it is a void in my memory. But I know I showered then bathed, then laid in bed grunting and groaning, all different manor of noises, and not pleasurable ones at that, no chance. I remember saying to my wife that if it wasn’t for the fact that I had just cycled 142 miles on a heavy bike, then I would be seeking medical advice as I felt that ill.

So yes, it was fun, but it was absolute hell and a dark place of mental strain that not everyone understands, unless you’ve been there. Training the brain to deal with this type of thing is as important as training the body to be physically able. Without both, it won’t work. Your car may have an engine, but if it’s high tech electrics aren’t working, then it won’t work, we’re very similar.

 There was no fanfare, no cheap plastic medal to certificate our effort, no money raised for charity, no one to beat, just a great feeling of silly miles, great memories with one of your best mates and a beautiful part of the world that I feel grateful to call home, East Anglia.