Preparing for the off, Broad Street
As I Cycled Out One Midsummer Evening
Dorset Dash 2013
Ride Report
9 brave souls turned out on Saturday evening after an
afternoon of heavy showers and strong (SouthWesterly) winds. This kind of start
really does sort out the experienced (and possibly optimistic) cyclists from
the fair weather friends. One of us had even quit his job and had packed a kind
of survival kit and was starting a brave new world as cycle tourist with an overnight
trip to the sea to be followed by a ride to Cornwall and possibly the ferry to
Spain and who know where…. It reminded me very much of Laurie Lee in As I
Walked out one Midsummer Morning…. Lets hope this trip doesn’t end in civil
war….
We made good time up Boars Hill and it was still actually
daylight at the top, thanks to Brian for the photos as my camera had conked
out.
Nine brave souls
Then another spooky literary moment when we passed a wagon
train of gypsy caravans and hobbled horses bunkered down on a grassy verge
outside Wantage. I can only assume it was a ghost-train as surely no one lives
like this outside of Wind in the Willows?
Lambourn was kicking as usual with a Status Quo style band tearing the pub
down. Really quite tempted to make this an official stop one year it’s such an
odd place (or maybe it’s the odd time of night we get there?) it’s such a good
juxtaposition between bedraggled drinkers and bedraggled cyclists. But soon
after Lambourn Disaster! A spate of
punctures on one bike brought about by a snakebite on some very skinny rubber,
still, it gave the rest a chance to eat and keep warm as the temperature
plunged.
Marlborough was next for chips and cheese. Disappointingly
quiet for a Saturday night, as we usually have some amusing conversations with
tipsy locals who can’t quite believe we’re all going for a paddle in the sea.
Marlborough Country for chips and cheese
Wind was dying and we made good progress up and over the
highest point of the ride before stopping at Honey Street to pick up my friend
Annie who happened to have moored her narrow boat there. Thanks to everyone for
hanging around whilst I went and got her as it’s never much fun letting your
legs get cold at 3am. Honey Street is the epicentre for world crop circle
watching and Annie made the next few miles fly by with tales of the Old
Crop-Circle from the mystics who make them (and people she’s met in the local
pub…)
I always find my spirits rise on sight of Upavon – it means
it’s all downhill as we stay near the Avon ‘til the sea. We also come face to
face with a gaggle (waddle?) of swans crossing the road after a big night out
at the swannery. They were a bit wobbly on their feet but we missed them. Swans
aside riding these lanes three abreast is what this ride is all about. Nobody
alive in Amesbury so we pressed on leaving out the extra few miles to Stone
Henge. It’s always a bit smaller and more behind a fence than you think it
should be, anyway, it’ll still be
there next year.
Through the Woodfords and it’s definitely getting light on
our left hand now. Someone has a loose securing bolt for their Ultratorque
bottom bracket rendering it useless until they work out that that two 6mm allen
keys side by side makes 12mm
*Dorset Dash Top Tip*
By Victoria Park Salisbury I’m especially pleased to be
riding a recumbent as my body is in good shape and the biggest danger has
probably passed; that of falling asleep at the wheel.
Salisbury to Ringwood is a series of short descents followed
by rises where if you pedal hell-for-leather on the way down you get most of
the way back up. Then we hit the Forest and something even more hazardous than
cars (we’ve barely seen 25 cars since 9pm). The new Forest Pony has been doing
it’s own thing for a thousand years, before roads, before trains and certainly
before touring cyclists. They appear to wander about aimlessly until you
approach, at which point they suddenly decide that what they most need to do is
have a look at some grass on the other side of the road, which they do in as
slow and roundabout a manner as possible. Watch out!
The rhododendron flowers are iridescent in the low summer
sun and I dimly remember that they are edible so grab a handful as I pass and
try them * please do not try this at home, they taste definitely disgusting and
possibly poisonous *
I try to arrive at Christchurch reasonably hungry to make
the most of the fried breakfast, however, I have to stop this time for
emergency chocolate. This got working and gave me the strength not only to
finish the ride but also the stamina for a half-hour swim. This is the reason I
do the ride each year. I seem to enjoy a longer swim each time irrespective of
the water temperature. The sea is so fresh and crisp after a night in the
saddle, I can’t believe that anyone could complete the ride without the dip at
the end.
Brian our photographer who did the whole ride wearing a messenger bag - Respect!
As the size of the breakfast at Avon Beach Café has reduced
the quality has improved and I manage to stop shivering sometime before the end
of the 2nd coffee. A
lie down on the beach and slowly people start to depart. Annie to cycle back to
Honey Street to make up the full distance of 100 miles, one to be off to
Cornwall and others to carry on their adventures in different directions.
Normally Matt and I are the last to leave but the threat of a shower pushes us
on to Brockenhurst where we find a lovely disused railway to carry us the last
few miles into town (rideable if you have tyres wider than an inch). We’re booked on the 4.00 train so have
some time to kill and more importantly, some sleep to catch up on before we
return to our young mainly sleepless children at home. We look in vain for a bandstand
or some such other covered area until we meet a friendly local on her way to
clean Brockenhurst F.C’s clubhouse. She takes pity on us and lets us sleep in
the dugouts and even wakes us up in time for our train with a cup of tea and a
Mars bar – the kindness of strangers. Thank you thank you.
Lovely end, lovely ride. See you next time.
Sim
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