Nocturnal About Turnal

I went out for a ride tonight on my own. Another plan fell through, and I was keen to get out there, all lit up.

I put the toddler to bed, had some savoury pancakes, and set off just after 9pm with the vague intention of riding down to Crystal Palace, then doing the 28 mile loop that the Dulwich Paraplegics do on Saturdays, with an optional added loop up the Bec Hillclimb course.

It was a bit chilly - I'd been a little optimistic eschewing a second pair of socks - but I set a good steady pace, definitely felt visible from all angles, and luckily didn't meet any fuckwits in private hire vehicles as I passed Herne Hill and made my way through Dulwich Village.

The street lighting gradually thinned out, and I'd just been thinking, after Corkscrew Hill, how it was really starting to get quite dark, and then suddenly...

BLACKNESS

Upped the Hope to high beam, and stuck on the torch on my helmet. The combination was great, though I really had to duck my head down for the benefit of the few oncoming cars I passed.

Anyone who's ridden that route will no it's a longish, slightly twisting drag of a climb around this point, and I subconciously found a good rhythm in the 39x15, whilst my conscious mind concentrated hard on looking ahead of me.

But I discovered I also have a sort of inter-conscious mind that falls between the aforementioned others, and its job is to both question the sanity of plungeing further into desolate and dark country lanes on my own, as well as suggesting some of the unspeakable badness that might occur.

I reached this point:

You can see from the more detailed map below, a descent into hell awaits:

So I turned around and rode home, getting some decent time-trial pace stuff done on the fast but quiet suburban roads near West Wickham. Some drunken cunt called me Armstrong going up Annerly Hill, and I was considering getting off and slapping him until I was distracted by a slightly sexual show of approval from a woman walking about 20m behind the Lanceophile.

Back home at 11pm, 30 miles in the musette.

Some drunken cunt called me Armstrong going up Annerly Hill

You could give me a wave next time, prick.

I went out for a ride tonight on my own.

Solo ride - no judgement.

Another plan fell through, and I was keen to get out there, all lit up.

Move from self pity to luminescent force of life. Inspirational.

I put the toddler to bed,

Thanks. (although I did "lay an egg" around 10.15pm).

had some savoury pancakes, and set off just after 9pm with the vague intention of riding down to Crystal Palace, then doing the 28 mile loop that the Dulwich Paraplegics do on Saturdays, with an optional added loop up the Bec Hillclimb course.

Paraplegecist.

It was a bit chilly

Thermogist.

I'd been a little optimistic eschewing a second pair of socks

Optimist.

but I set a good steady pace, definitely felt visible from all angles,

Fresnelacist.

and luckily didn't meet any fuckwits in private hire vehicles as I passed Herne Hill and made my way through Dulwich Village.

The street lighting gradually thinned out, and I'd just been thinking, after Corkscrew Hill, how it was really starting to get quite dark, and then suddenly...

BLACKNESS

No comment.

Upped the Hope to high beam, and stuck on the torch on my helmet. The combination was great, though I really had to duck my head down for the benefit of the few oncoming cars I passed.

Anyone who's ridden that route will no it's a longish, slightly twisting drag of a climb around this point, and I subconciously found a good rhythm in the 39x15, whilst my conscious mind concentrated hard on looking ahead of me.

But I discovered I also have a sort of inter-conscious mind that falls between the aforementioned others, and its job is to both question the sanity of plungeing further into desolate and dark country lanes on my own, as well as suggesting some of the unspeakable badness that might occur.

You don't really think that do you ? If you do you are a fucking bastard and I am prepared to get one of my slaves to beat you up.

So I turned around and rode home, getting some decent time-trial pace stuff done on the fast but quiet suburban roads near West Wickham. Some drunken cunt called me Armstrong going up Annerly Hill, and I was considering getting off and slapping him until I was distracted by a slightly sexual show of approval from a woman walking about 20m behind the Lanceophile.

Back home at 11pm, 30 miles in the musette.

Not sure what all that last stuff meant, but I am prepared to defend my little bit of soil.

Nice write up BMMF. You were wise not to take the descent into hell as the road at the bottom of the dip is gravel strewn at the moment (I rode it in the daylight on Sunday morning) and there must be a 3 inch covering of gravel over most of the road. That could've been sketchy.

gonzocyclo ftw!

You should work with books n that innit.

No half measures with BMMF. always impressive.

You can see from the more detailed map below, a descent into hell awaits:

Didn't we pass through this area on the way to the Catford Hill-climb? I remember a totally vicious descent that I nearly walked, but I can't quite remember where it was, only that it looks as if it might have been somewhere along that same ridge.

Didn't we pass through this area on the way to the Catford Hill-climb? I remember a totally vicious descent that I nearly walked, but I can't quite remember where it was, only that it looks as if it might have been somewhere along that same ridge.

Yes I think you would have done - At the left onto Hessiers Hill after coming up through Layhams Road.

That road through West Wickham/Eden Park/Elmers End is really good - a much more preferable way to get from south to central or vice versa than using the shitty A23 like I did last night. Still, I got the privilege of seeing a punch-up/glassing outside a pub in West Croydon.

nice post - inspiring stuff, especially for other riders (like me) whose parental responsibilities make it hard to find time to put in the miles. time to get some decent lighting sorted.

That road through West Wickham/Eden Park/Elmers End is really good

[Banal Snowy Fact / First place I ever got stopped for drunk cycling - weaving between the white painted lines on the road through the golf course. */ Banal Snowy Fact] *

gonzocyclo ftw!

I did a gonzo essay for a health professions student competition, but they just didn't get it. It was my intention to try a gonzoesque approach to my next big fiction project, but, er, I haven't really got around to that yet...

Didn't we pass through this area on the way to the Catford Hill-climb? I remember a totally vicious descent that I nearly walked, but I can't quite remember where it was, only that it looks as if it might have been somewhere along that same ridge.

Like Brett said.

That road through West Wickham/Eden Park/Elmers End is really good

I like it cos it seems flat, although it's probably more like a 1% downhill. Only dropped below 25mph on the rdbts last night - mudguards and 25s FTW :O

nice post - inspiring stuff, especially for other riders (like me) whose parental responsibilities make it hard to find time to put in the miles. time to get some decent lighting sorted.

I'm hoping it's how I'll get my steady/recovery miles done, and there's definitely a growing number of road cyclists getting out there in the dark, thanks to LED technology progressing so rapidly. Now I just have to make sure that I don't disturb Mrs Fix too much when I stagger in and raid the kitchen :D

BTW - I'd like to do the full version of this ride at some point with a small group. From mid-June, I won't be working evenings for a bit, so could leave earlier; or there's always the slightly later slot like I did last night. I'll post up next time I'm intending to do it.

excellent stuff bmmf, and definitely up for joining in june dude

The great thing about country lanes at night (well, one of the great things...) is that you can see oncoming vehicles miles off, assuming they've got lights. But you don't see the gravel until it's too late. I've hit the Beddlestead gravel, and the stuff over the other side of the B269 (down the bottom of Halliloo Valley Road) and it's bad enough in daylight.

That's why I'm so grateful when on a night ride where someone (usually the legendary Mr Legg) has scouted out the route a few days before and has noted all the latest gravel patches, potholes and other hazards for us.