L2P Journal: Day One

In truly Intrepid fashion, things were never going to go fully smoothly. However by the end, our sandpaper had been used to great effect as all appeared to go well. At least on the surface...

After following custom and leaving the rather grim surroundings of the scout campsite 1/2 an hour late. We headed for the tube. With our bikes. In Lycra. All the way to Westminster. To all the passengers whose seats we deprived them of with our saddles, handlebars and wheels, I apologise.

Fortunately though, for all parties involved, we departed and crossed the eponymous bridge and passed the residence of Mr Bercow where we reached our start point: The London Eye.

By this point, timing had ticked by at such a rate that its importance seemed forgotten - right until we looked at our watches and realised we were over 1 hour late and morning was preparing to bid farewell for another 12 hours.

Such time constraints rather forced our staggered starting plan to be drastically scaled back to us setting off at 2 minute intervals. Team Time Trial style.

However just as things seemed to finally work, the first group to set off returned, blissfully unaware of the route and its directions.

After this tactical discussion however we were off and soon being held by a Johnny English stunt on the Lambeth Bridge. Despite my request, Rowan was unavailable for comment and photos. But anyway, I should probably talk about the ride.

The primary issue in the early part of the ride was the wind, to the extent that we found ourselves in cornering positions against the wind to stay in a straight line. But that didn't stop the leaves causing havoc among the wheel spokes.

From then on, progress was good, our group, the tete de la course held a constant pace, staying together through roads and trails despite the at times questionable terrain. 

I personally was holding my own among the group and even enjoying myself! My main source of this was the sense of freedom in descending. Sadly, this would come to an end.

While enjoying my freedom, I crashed into a man. I saw him on the path, I moved to the right, he then saw me and moved to the right. With approximately 1 seconds notice, I braced myself and fortunately barring a feeling of being dazed and a dead arm, I was unscathed. 

I would like to be quite clear here, it was MY FAULT. I went over handlebars into the man, he went flying like the snowman who went walking in the air. I'm therefore incredibly apologetic and grateful for his kindness and ability to forgive what was nothing less than stupidity. If nothing else, consider it a lesson learnt.

Beyond there, progress was strong and we maintained our strong average pace, even with horrendous mile draining hills. Yet before we reached our stop for the day, Satan had been let loose on the terrain. For what followed was utterly utterly horrendous. Gravel and large bumpy stones are unpleasant at the way of times but on slick road tyres lacking in any form of useful suspension, words don't describe the irritation and hatred generated from such devilish material. With legs shaking like Ringo Starr in concert, the overwhelming relief when it gave way to Tarmac... Ah bliss.

Elsewhere, the main peloton kept us on a tight leash, led by the Eatons, Hodgskins and a Harrison ensuring everything went smoothly. Meanwhile Team Cavendish, sensing their time will come formed a grupetto, and sadly missed the time limit. However such is the good spirit among the connoisseurs that they shall resume tomorrow from where they left off.

So tomorrow: the shortest day, however that fact is overshadowed by the location through the South Downs from Hartfield to Newhaven.

Hills have been ordered in bulk. I just hope there's a vegetarian option!!

FACT of the Day: My appreciation for professional bike riders who ride the cobbled classics has increased exponentially!