PART 1
And So It Begins
I love riding my bike. I love challenging myself riding my bike. So when Alex showed me The Giant Circle route over a coffee in Putney, that, right there, was all the ‘why’ I needed.
The route starts at the Greenwich Mean Time Clock outside the Royal Observatory, traces the biggest, most accurate circle you can map in England (dipping into Wales for a tad), and ends where it starts for a total of 1000km – give or take a few.
“I’m probably riding it on June 26. You can join me if you like.” “I’m aiming for under 75 hours.”
Meeting Alex usually goes this way. This wouldn’t be our first ultra-endurance rodeo. You can’t imagine the stories we have to tell…
Let’s Do This
I gave Alex a bell a couple of days before. “You still doing that ride? I’d love to tag along.” “Great! I’ll send you a loose schedule with my target times. See you by the clock at 8 am,” Alex tells me.
I could see there was climbing, but figured over the distance it wasn’t THAT huge. Mistake! Nevertheless, I was apprehensive. I’ve been really distracted from riding and have also spent two months on inhalers with a chest infection from hypersensitive lungs. But who cares? This is for giggles. It’s a no-win, no-lose deal, doing what I love to do.
Preparations
On top of my patch kit , I might add an emergency silver space blanket when going long. I’ve a target of £5 for food and accommodation – catching shut eye for a few minutes here and there in the shade of a tree or bus shelter is my (and Alex’s) kind of luxury.
For this one, I added a 375 gm down sleeping bag tied to the bars and a 270 gm bivi sack stuffed into a £4.99 Mountain Warehouse frame bag I picked up in last year’s January sales. I waterproof this with a couple of thin bin bags as liners.
Day One: …And They’re Off
The clock ticked past 8:30 as we rolled down Shooters Hill on the morning of the 26th. We wiggled our way using lots of cycle paths through Croydon and out into…. The Surrey hills?? Hang on, this wasn’t what I signed up for. The hills weren’t due for ages!! Oh well…
At first, the roads were all too familiar. “Section 1”, each “Section” being around 100km, finished at a petrol station just past Epsom Downs. I couldn’t find any cooking chocolate, so instead I splashed out on convenience food to “on board” calories :rofl:. Budget blown. With a target of some 330km a day, I guess I would end up having to ”eat the overspend” because taking time scouring supermarket shelves seemed an unaffordable luxury.
The Devils Punchbowl
Soon, the roads became less familiar. We shot past Godalming and spent a couple of km riding the cycle path alongside the A3 when we suffered our first torrential downpour. By the time we swung off to do the long, slow climb along the rim of The Devils Punchbowl, the rain had stopped.
We paused to admire the view by The Sailors’ Stone and pressed on before ending the next “Section” of the GPX file, where we took a short break for lunch mid-afternoon.
Heading Eastwards
Then there was the bit through Winchester and Salisbury that I’d ridden so many times before. After that, it was all pretty much new.
The idea was, that at the end of day, around 1 am, we would find a field to rest up in somewhere between Bistol and the old Severn Bridge into Chepstow and Monmouthshire.
I prefer to take a break earlier than 1 in the morning to maximise daylight / visibility and exploit darkness for a better rest. Regardless, I was smashed. The lack of fitness and miles in the saddle came to bite me, and I called it well before that. Alex suggested we press on to find a good spot for a rest.
The First Night: A Wet One
Some 20 km out of Bristol, we stopped at a village with a classic village green. It was starting to rain again, and there were a couple of trees we could shelter under. Day one ended with us lying on the ground under those trees while the rain made its second appearance. The rain continued to fall until it was time to crawl out and face day two…
We put the pedal down just after the sky cleared, and by 4 am, rolled over sketchy country lanes / farm tracks that tumbled up and down quite steeply on the way to Bristol. Riding these lanes in the dark and rain the night before would have been testing, even dangerous. I was happy with our decisions so far.
Day Two: Breakfast Of Champions
Early morning Bristol, with its bustling cafés, proved tempting enough for a full English. Soon we would be going pretty remote for a while. Taking 50 mins to use the facilities and stock up seemed a fair trade. Bristol is hilly. Before Bristol is hilly, but what was to come was another level.
We could see the Severn Bridge. I have ridden this way to Wales several times before. There is a Spar convenience store just beyond Chepstow on the road from the bridge that, if you know, you know.
The next three 110km Sections – bear in mind, we had already ridden what remained of the final Section of the previous night – are where the wheels came off.
Relentlessly Undulating
Weather was good, just bearably hot, views and roads great. However… the rolling hills!!!…. (Expletive)… Nothing was too high, some were lengthy, ultimately you would be forgiven if you thought “yeah! I can do this”. But the fact was, they were so steep and relentless. And they felt steeper because they were impossible to attack using momentum. They came one after another after another. Hundreds of them. Each one you had to grind up from the very bottom to the top. 44 x 28?? What the ***** was I thinking? I was so under-geared. Alex had a heavier bike, but his MTB gearing saw him inch away slightly up each hill until I closed the gap on the other side.
Around halfway through the day, that gap became impossible for me to close. When I eventually caught up with him, the elastic had snapped, and I demanded that he leave me behind to carry on at his own pace and achieve his cut-off time for the ride. Basically I needed to slay this bitch on my own terms.
Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow
It was about halfway done as I let Alex go up the road. I was relieved and empowered all at the same time. I could stop when I wanted, shop where I wanted, rest when I needed. It was at that moment that I knew I would make it!
I composed myself a little and pushed hard up the next hill. To my joy, the road then leveled out. I knew that the climbing was “front-loaded,” as the route leads you through the billiard-flat fens on the way back to London. “Sod’s law,” I thought. “Just as I let Alex go,” I thought. What I hadn’t clocked was what was to come…
PART 2
The Moment Of Calm
Details become hazy after riding 500 km “non-stop”. I was bowling along on the relative flat towards the end of this 110 km Section, which finished at another convenience store. This time in Barlaston.
Spirits were high, I was able to progress and I would “sleep snack” for the odd 20 mins whenever I fancied. Time had lost all significance. I sat on a bench outside the shop just before the railway crossing munching on some cooking chocolate (looking to get back on budget). A couple of well shod roadies rolled up and gave me a casual wave. Thankfully they didn’t ask where I was riding. I think somehow they knew it wasn’t wise.
Blissfully unaware I was in the suburbs of Stoke-on-Trent, I rattled over the railway crossing to take on the next Section.
The Storm
The hills were back. The sun was shining and some strength had returned. Oh look at that lovely stone sign engraved with the words ‘Peak National Park’. “La-di-dah. I wonder where that is,” I muse….
Then it dawned on me. Rumours of the rigours and hills that are the Peak District flood my mind. Then acceptance. I was in the bloody Peak District! Some of the toughest riding in the country!! My hopes that I was looking forward to flatter roads were smashed. Instead I found myself riding through almost AI-generated views that smacked of a Hollywood fantasy land.
The hills of ‘The Peaks’ were everything their reputation had you believe. They were real. The tourists, mostly from not ‘round these parts’, made encouraging noises. I think many simply took pity. TBH I was too far into my pain cave to notice.
The beauty of the place was striking. Tiny shepherds cottages hiding behind massive 4×4’s. This was such a contrast to the urban towns I had been riding through hours before.
Eventually I managed to crawl up to the top of the highest peak on this route, then stopped to catch my breath and snap a few photos – I felt it was a worthy moment.
Far Up North
The temperature was steadily creeping towards 30 degrees as I left those pesky peaks and crossed a stream by a small walkers bridge. There were other cyclists out and about – as you can imagine on such a lovely warm day. I exchanged a few words of comradeship with a couple. Apparently, Sheffield was a stones throw away! Was I that far north??
Visited By Faeries
Inevitably, not wanting to be left out, the puncture fairy decided to intervene! I run the excellent RideNow TPU inner tubes. However, this ride revealed their kryptonite. They are highly susceptible to pinch punctures. Ordinarily this is not a problem. However, on this ride, rocking 25mm 4 Seasons tyres under my lardy arse, while slamming over potholes in farm tracks, proved too much for them. Even if you bottom out very lightly, that’s enough. Anyway, despite fashioning a repair I was now having to stop and hand pump the tyre every 30km or so. Failure to do so would risk more snake bites! Sadly my Lezine hand pump wasn’t functioning well either. So I was working hard to avoid any holes in the road.
Sitting in the shade casually fixing punctures gave a much appreciated break from riding, allowing me to catch my breath and reset my head. Should have gone tubeless! Lol.
The Kindness Of Strangers
Before Alex left me, he mentioned the services that follow Section 7. He was planning on taking a longer break. There was even a possibility we would reconnect. This gave me target. Now I was on flatter terrain, would I see him there?
Section 7 ended in Newark. I eventually rolled into town but had a new challenge.
I needed charge. My power bank had faithfully recharged my Garmin 1000 some 8 or 10 times. My phone, despite being on low batt and airplane mode, was finally running out. That’s how I found myself in Newark’s McDonalds.
I must have looked pitiful, as one of the staff asked me where I was headed. “You really don’t want to know” I said. “I do” she insisted. I told her… “oh wow!!! I’ve heard about you people but have never met one” “now you have” I joked…. “Why? Are you doing it for charity?” “No, just for fun” “That’s amazing! You can have anything you want to eat on the house” she insisted. Before I knew it I was stuffing my face for free while my devices charged! Even McDonalds have fast USB C charging points these days.
A Refreshing Moment
It was closing as I left McDonalds. I had 3 more of the GPX Sections to go. Just after midnight I was at the previously highlighted Welcome Break services. No Alex. But I vaguely remember he said there might be showers… and there were! Result! After exchanging my house keys for the shower keys and getting permission to roll my bike into the shower block, I ended up fully clothed under warm running water using a bottle of shampoo the previous occupant had left behind! This way I washed myself and my kit at the same time.
OK, everything squelched as I swung my leg over the saddle in the early hours, but it was warm enough and things dried pretty quickly.
The Second Night: 5-Star Accommodation
I’d reached flat-lands near the coast. While progress was good, I was on the lookout for a rest stop before the home straight. Rauceby South delivered!! As I turned into Rauceby Drove from Cliff View, the most beautifully clean and well-provisioned bus shelter with breakfast bench and rubbish bin was on offer.
This luxury 5-star accommodation was all mine for the taking. It was just 2 am. I had a quick wee in the conveniently place toilet bush around the side and settle in for 3 hours rest.
Breakfast on the breakfast bench at 5 am was delightful and the view of a dry stone-walled field of sheep painted the perfect Lowery backdrop for a cooking chocolate and baguette start to the day.
Day Three: Flatlands
Less than 300 km to go. Mostly flat too. Spalding came and went, as did the other towns in the fens. The roads; empty long and straight. The flies and insects an utter nightmare. There were walls of them in the sweltering heat of the hottest day so far.
Then through the Roddings into Essex and finally, as the evening threatened, I caught a glimpse of the city.
The Punchline
The route diverted me onto cycle-ways to avoid the dangerous four-laned artery into London through Dagenham. I was almost there. Yey! I had done it!! I was rolling so smoothly… avoiding all the hazards.
Bang :boom: Stars :sparkles:⭐️:star2::dizzy:
I was on the ground. A word beginning with F came out on repeat. A curb stone in the cycle path had got me! This was nuts. I only ever get injured on cycle paths. The food courier rider who stop tried to be encouraging. The lady who offered me her perfume discombobulated, but ultimately this was my mess to sort. It was so close!! So very close!!!
What Winning Looks Like
Soon practically minded me returned, and I reasoned that if I could bodge a fix on my now buckled front wheel, I could carry on. The tyre seemed good. Why not try? So, I replaced the inner tube and released the rim brake. With only the rear brake and a bucking broncho ride, I eventually made it to the now locked gate of The Royal Observatory and took a photo. Got ya!! That was my celebration!!!!
The bodged wheel didn’t last, so I ripped the tyre off and carried on towards home on the bare rim, which was totalled anyway! The noise, oh the noise. I woke every rough sleeper I passed. Sorry…
12 hours later I was released from St Thomas’ into the hands of my long suffering partner Lorraine with a handful of broken ribs, opiates and a few bloody bits after being held in resus for a suspected spinal / head injury. In an uplifting contrast, I was also in receipt of a lovely message of congratulations from Alex (who had made it within his time cut).
Humbler And Richer
Doing this ride is a privilege. I got to see the four corners of England from an unique perspective: the beauty, the diversity, what divides, and what unites. I got to see how the terrain affects the culture that forms this rich and varied country. And I got to see how money has taken possession of what once were poor people’s simple stone dwellings and how the majority have been displaced and corralled into carbon copy estates. This whole experience left me both humbler and richer.
And… as I sit here with weeping insect bites, writhing in pain while drifting in and out of my opiate-induced sleep and recovery cycle… I ask myself, “Was it worth it?”
Hella-Yeah!!
- Distance:- 926.25km
- Moving Time:-49:04:03
- Elevation:- 8,729m
- Estimated Avg Power:- 141W
- Calories Burned:-21,216kJ
- Average Speed:- 18.9km/h
- Max Speed:- 70.9km/h
- Elapsed Time:- 90:13:15
- With (In Part):- Alex
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