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I was going to post in "Oh Shit Moments" that, when I woke up my body and brain told me to relax and enjoy a nice Sunday lie in, until, prompted by the dustcart clattering the bins outside my window, it dawned on me that it was Monday. I suppose that's what you get when you give up a night for a ride to the sea, was it worth it? Fuck yeah!
Now preparation is everything, so getting drunk Friday night was not ideal. Going to work Saturday morning was also not ideal. Watching the tour instead of getting my shit together; again, not ideal. With all the other "not ideal" stuff I'd been doing in preparation I did manage to get together a flask of beans and sausage, a ham and brie ciabatta, Jelly Babies, change of clothes minty arse cream, basic tool kit, more advanced tool kit, first aid kit, light, spare light, spare spare light, batteries for spare spare light... Then I decided to stop putting random shit into my bag cos it was already getting out of hand. In hind sight I could have packed a lot lighter but it's not a route that makes carrying weight too much of an issue and everything I took was to make me feel happy and comfortable so well worth it.
One of the things that makes the Dun Run so special is the number of different people who do it and it's always interesting to arrive a the park and see all the stories waiting to happen. The people who will be boasting about their times smashing it there and back, the people who will be hitting the wall before the M25, the breakdowns, mechanical, mental or physical, all waiting to happen. Also nice to see all the forumengers, especially the ones that just dropped by to see us off. I saw the looks of temptation from Dropout and Dimi as we tried to con them into coming with us, just as far as Epping, or perhaps a bit beyond? Go on, you'll be home in time for bed.
There was a bit of a wait as Ramaye and Ian seemed to get stuck in the very slow moving queue to get their coach tickets. I was itching to get away and It's odd watching the park empty, you get a sense of being left behind, even though there are probably still a few hundred still hanging around. Eventually our little group of Ramay, Dicki, Ian and Al got on the road. I say road, cycle path to start with, which meant we caught up with 6pt and Bendix on the tandem as they tried to find a way to the Lea Bridge Rd that didn't involve any curbs, bollards, tight turns or narrow gateways. They weren't convinced my my claim of a neat route out by Tesco's carpark, on reflection I think they were right to be sceptical. We did wonder how long it would be before they overtook us. It wasn't very long.
I like to do the first leg at a reasonable clip. Firstly to get clear of town. Much as I love Essex and it's people, the Epping New Road and the young men who drive their shiny little hatchbacks up and down it do not represent the best of either. But then, once you have been spat out of Epping, the road dips and sways and rolls and sweeps, and pulls you along at speed until, all of a sudden, Moreton happens. And this year it really happened. Almost a solid wall of bikes. I think most people made an effort to get clear of the road but there were a few who seemed somewhat oblivious to the fact they were still on an open highway and there may be people wanting to use it. Unfortunately random stopping, standing in the road, and bizarre lane selection were a bit of a theme for the night. I know riding 2 abreast is fine and couples want to travel together, but when you are so far apart that I could (and, when deep in one of my dark moments did) pass safely between you, you either need to work on your bike handling or your relationship.
Back on topic cos if I get all ranty about the behaviour of a few people it'll just give the wrong impression of this magnificent ride.
So the masses in Moreton, as Ian pointed out, made one fear for one's pint, or at least the getting of it, but once inside the White Hart (I always go to that one, nothing against the other pub, never even been inside it, but I'd feel like I was cheating on the White Hart if I used the other one) the queue was small and being swiftly dealt with. There at the bar we ran into Noiser for the first time that evening. Actually saw quite a bit of him on the next leg, he was travelling with a couple of roadies who seemed to be doing sprint intervals. They would come past at a lick, usually with Noiser clinging to a back wheel, then we'd cruise past them while they were sat up and pootling along. Also OSR appeared with the tale of his exploding rear wheel and how he'd had to re-build it at the roadside with his bare hands.
I think we did the the run from Moreton to Finchingfield a bit too fast, it's longer than I remember, was it always that side of Dunmow? If it was then it's certainly switched places with Great Bardfield. Anyway well worth the wait for a pint and an exceptional sausage roll. There was a lovely couple by the pub who had come out of their house to watch the ride pass and warn the riders of the potholes, in fact they were having so much fun we joined in for a bit. HOLES!
Right, I'd better press on, like the ride I seem to have been going for ages and not even reached half way yet.
Actually we're nearly at half way, it's just a short roll from Finchingfield up to feed station Sible. We must have arrived quite late as, although the queue was out the door, it was only a little way down the steps. Shame the back entrance wasn't open cos, although it helped the queue run smoother, it meant that I didn't get to try and distract a flustered looking Oliver while he tries to satisfy the hungry hordes, which has been a highlight the past few years, or see Skully, which would be a novelty. I did consider joining the queue just to say hi but I wasn't after any food, I had my flask of sausage and beans, and it wouldn't be fair to get in everyone's way just to irritate Oliver and Skully. Did get to see Skydancer who was filling water-bottles, which was nice.
With the late departure and unhurried pub stops it was actually getting pretty late so Ian, Dicki and Al decided to push on but Ramaye and I decided a doze was in order. With all the heat recently, and all the drinking too, I was already in sleep deficit at the start and suffered far more this year than previously. It's a strange thing trying to fight a tiredness that is not so much in your muscles as in your mind. It was certainly contributory to missing the first turn after the feed stop, especially when combined with the "follow the blinking lights" navigation which was encouraged by the sheer number of riders.
Once Ramaye had got us back on track I could feel I was entering my long dark tea-time of the soul. From here on things were going to get grim, for a while at least. On any ride of any reasonable distance you will have good times and bad times, and I know when I hit a low I'm not nice to be around and that the best thing for everyone is for me to quietly slip into the darkness, ignore everyone and everything, just concentrate on keeping the pedals turning. Usually the spell is broken by the first glow of dawn but the foggy drizzle kept me in my cage for a bit longer than normal. The film of water gathering on my glasses blurred the boundaries between road and verge and caused a myriad points of refracted red light to dance in front of me every time I approached a group of riders. My eyesight is such that removing my specs is just not an option so I had to rely on an occasional sweep of a finger across the lenses to regain some semblance of vision. In one such brief bit of clarity on I clocked Dicki, Ian et Al sheltered under some trees picnicking by the roadside. I managed to fire off a wave at them but the legs said onwards, and when they are in that mood you do what they tell you.
Not much further on I found myself slowly overhauling another rider. The drizzle was subsiding and the brightness had grown so, in a fit of positivity I thought I'd see if I could access my social skill-set and went for a (possibly over cheery) good morning! I was rewarded with a big Saffa grin. Chainbreaker had hidden his sharkpits under a jacket and lost his friends and girlfriend, (possibly permanently judging by how well the phone-call was going when I left him). Have to say, even tho I didn't get a hug, rolling and chatting with him for a few miles really lifted my spirits. I even showed him the secret short-cut through Needham Market. I'm sure that's the way the route used to go. It was a bit of a surprise seeing all the white lights coming from the other direction, so much so that I did miss the turn under the railway bridge, so yeah, I guess it counts as getting lost. But it did mean we found Katie-koo and party having an impromptu feed stop. My legs were still saying go so after a brief stop I handed them custody of CB and departed. It was only a short roll on to my planned destination anyway.
I make a point of stopping at the magic tea stop, it's the one that does a cuppa for a donation to the air ambulance and has the Yurt. It's magic because, a few years back, Damo, Marco and I were wishing aloud for a cup of tea to present it's self, and then it did, which was magic. The queue was enormous but a break was in order and I was in no hurry so I joined it. Saw Howard and Dr Cake briefly as they left, and Hairnetnic was there too. Then Ramaye caught back up, having had a seatpost malfunction delay him. A leisurely cuppa, a nice bacon roll, a bit of a rest and we were ready for the off.
From that point it really feels like the last leg, that we are getting near the end, and although each hill felt steeper you knew it was one less to do before the end. Managed to stick with Ramaye for most of the leg, including an unscheduled tour of Framlingham, which is really very pretty. It was also around there that the mileage ticket over 100, which is the point where you know, no matter what, you will make it, even if one of your legs fell off you'd still be able to stop, pick it up, grip it in your teeth and ride on to the beach. I say I kept with Ramaye but on the last run in, just after that sand trap lane north of Peasenhall, I got caught up in a little gaggle of roadies., one in a Tokyo Fixed jersey, and we ended with quite a spirited ride to the end, well almost to the end, until we hit the little traffic jam of cars that had come to pick people up.
Met a few on or near the beach, notably Damo and Jayjee (late of this parish). And I did consider a swim, but by the time I'd plucked up the courage Ramaye had been in, the sea had taken on a somewhat angry demeanour and had turned an unappealing brown hue. So went to the pub instead. Now I know the breakfast at the Ship is pricey for what you get but you will seldom enjoy a fry-up as much as the one you have after an all night ride, and the Woodforde's Sundew was nectar. In my tired state I could only manage two pints before we decided it was time to find a coach home. Loading was reasonably painless and, like just about everyone else, I was asleep before we'd got to the A12.
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Well that turned into a bit of an epic.
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And it's all been said already.
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That photo set is very interesting. Everyone looks very bogged down by rucksacks and things. I cannot imagine having a rucksack on for 120 miles. Stuff that shit.
sweaty sweaty sweaty back problems
do not wantit's like a warm hug* in the middle of the night as the chill draws in
sweaty back yes ... warm back yes- not an ian / CB hug but a nice hug
- not an ian / CB hug but a nice hug
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your mate on the blue gazelle was epic! Glad to hear that the tape held to the end. I chatted to him @ the roadworks.
Was on 49-16 which I thought was ideal.
What a great ride! Definitely joining next year. How did it go for the guy who ended up in that ditch after the long downhill? I hope he is all-right.
Spent a bit of time trying to fix a mates ripped tyre – took me about 9 hours in total to the finish. Had 2 hours to kill when I got to the beach...ended up slightly drunk and mega cold wrapped up in a yellow plastic bag by the finish line...
Big ups to the guy that went in the ditch, the guy who cut up his calf on his crank and of course to my mate who rode 100 miles on a ripped front, (blue Gazelle)Lo-Pro 650c wheel which we fixed by applying a shit load of electrical tape (it grazed the front brake going around).
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You have no idea how much I enjoy reading everyone's individual stories.
If there were 2000 individual reports on the ride, I would probably read them all.
A book of Dunwich ride reports Shoosh?
Or a chapter in another book?L>F>G>S>S>>>>>>b>o>o>k>>>>>>>>>>>>
In all seriousness my Mum and Dad have loved reading some of these stories and blog posts about Dunwich
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Screw you dicki! My hugs are as warm and sweaty like the best of them!
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Ha! Yeah the first 80 were a nightmare: we were super conscious of minding a couple of friends who don't cycle often at all, so were frantically looking for them after getting abusive text messages. Not fun. I spent 2 hours at SH to let everyone just fuck off so I could do the last 100 alone!
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Actually saw quite a bit of him on the next leg, he was travelling with a couple of roadies who seemed to be doing sprint intervals. They would come past at a lick, usually with Noiser clinging to a back wheel, then we'd cruise past them while they were sat up and pootling along.
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Ah that tea stop. What a life saver that was that year!
During this year's run I remembered having the brompton team zoom by, which fits in nicely with seeing Dropout earlier. Then the magic tea stop, which I couldn't remember where it was, but I just remembered it. And then, somewhere around 5ish I saw a tree/section that reminded me of meeting up with Braker, Dropout et al. just about there.
/csb
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Ha! Yeah the first 80 were a nightmare: we were super conscious of minding a couple of friends who don't cycle often at all, so were frantically looking for them after getting abusive text messages. Not fun. I spent 2 hours at SH to let everyone just fuck off so I could do the last 100 alone!
Ours was torn apart in the first 20 miles...
I find its as hard cycling super slow looking after ppl as it is bombing it at 100%...
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Completey. I think they appreciated that come SH so I was set freeeee.
When pootling along things start to niggle, things you can't feel when the blood is flowing.Ours was torn apart in the first 20 miles...
I find its as hard cycling super slow looking after ppl as it is bombing it at 100%...
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Also mentally exhausting... Esp if you're trying to keep a group of different skill together.
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Hey to the North American guy on the brakeless Cinelli Mash (I think); 48:17 gearing.
Good to meet you; I was on the fuji track on 48:16 and you left me on the way DOWN a hill at about the 80/90 mile mark?!Yeah man, cool to meet you as well. It was good fun man, I had a blast.
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I saw Yankee Shitbag at the finish and couldn't bare to say hello, realising he was there before me (telling myself he set off much earlier) and that he was on the same bike as he rode at May's LFGSS track day...
It was tough enough on a bloody carbon road bike, never mind brakeless fixed. Much respect.
Cheers man, yeah it's whatever, I had good fun doing it fixed brakeless. I do everything fixed brakeless though, lols.
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YSB was deffo on drugs btw, I saw him slip them into his water at about 65 miles.
Have you not seen my massive chest script buddy?
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Not to forget awesome YSB brakeless, and what Skully said was tea, and thanks to David and Oliver for food.
Thanks man, I had a great time. And also thank you to David and Oliver, it was delicious and well needed.
middleofnowhere
dicki
ap8006
Shoosh
bothwell
VVV
vunugu
skydancer
Stonehedge
ChainBreaker
noiser
Chalfie
Yankee_Shit_Bag
Skülly-
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2013-07-20 Sat/Sun - Dunwich Dynamo DD21
Posted by
@Crispin_Glover
Even the (small) saddle bag I only needed because I brought enough flapjack to share and an emergency can of energy drink (in case drinking though a hangover in the afternoon came back to bite me later on), and in the end I didn't take anything out of it till after arriving. I could've done it with jersey pockets easily.