Overcoming inertia

The idea for the ride blossomed when I won some bikepacking bags from The Socially Distanced Ride that advntr.cc had run in March.

I’d always liked the thought of an A-B ride and, as a child had marvelled at the fact that bikes were the ultimate freedom machine, but as an adult I had felt the need to ‘get all the gear’ before attempting a journey.

Suddenly some Ortlieb bikepacking kit was mine and it all seemed very possible.

The night before

5pm

Packing up my kit and doing final checks on the bike, my greatest fear is the distance. Even though I ride most days I am having visions that I will reach a certain distance and my legs will simply give up. They will refuse to turn and I’ll be forced to find a train home or worse still, ask for a lift.

Sitting on the floor in our bedroom, filling up the handlebar roll bag, I reflect on the preparation I’ve done for the ride. Ok, I’ve not ridden a long distance for a few weeks but I’ve been gradually extending my ride distances over recent months. I know that I can ride 100km+ and not feel bad the next day. Then there’s the adrenaline of the adventure and the prospect of my parents’ surprised faces when I turn up on their doorstep.

As I often do, I process the fears and the reasons and then try to shut it out of my head.

Day 1

After a questionable night’s sleep, I’m up early and excited! Today’s ride is just about distance. At 120km it’s longer than tomorrow and has far more climbing (1440m elevation) but I have no deadlines. I can take my time, enjoy the pedalling and make my way to Brighton.

Henry has had to pull out of the ride so he’s going to drive and meet me along the way. This is his first big solo car journey after passing his driving test and it feels right that we are each tackling a personal adventure in parallel.

6.45am

Cycling along the familiar golden gravel of the Great Stour Way I keep finding myself grinning at the thought that I am not just out for an hour or two, I am heading back to my childhood home in Lymington. 200km+ over two days! All the early morning exercisers have no idea that I’m not one of them – I’m not just doing a ‘local loop’ – I’m on a proper adventure!

The first 30km of the ride is fairly familiar territory, riding out along the Great Stour Way to Chartham and then climbing up through Chilham and on to the high ridgeline that leads over to the Weald of Kent.

On our last practice ride, Henry and I cycled out to the coast via Ashford. The cyclepath in Ashford is safe but not efficient – it had taken over an hour to cross the town. So, I decided to bypass Ashford on the LRH and head via the villages of Charing, Smarden and Pluckley before dropping in to Biddenden and onwards West.

The revised route is more efficient but takes me along a short stretch of nasty A-road. Remarkably it was the only ‘bad’ section of the ride, with drivers impatient to pass. Thankfully it didn’t last long and I was into the green lanes of the Weald.

I become aware of woodsmoke and stop to enjoy the smell as memories of Guide camps came crashing back. The source soon became apparent – a glamping site, seemingly full of Londoners who had escaped for the weekend. Fair play to them – it is easy to be snobbish about ‘DFLs’ when you live in the sticks but we all have a right to enjoy the freedoms of the countryside, even if we’re not lucky enough to live there full time.

9.10am

Exploring by bike is magical. I find the rhythm of pedalling, combined with no access to my phone, lulls me into a trance. My mind wanders and I revel in trying on houses and imagined life-styles for size. I can still remember vividly my Granny’s anger when age and a dislike of driving colluded to force her to move from their Forest cottage to the town where we lived. As I pedalled along it occurred to me that the joys of home shopping and the Internet mean that we don’t have to face that dilemma so early these days. That’s a good thing.

Following the route on Garmin I have no idea of distances and simply focus on the route as it appears on the screen at my handlebars. Not long before Benenden I look up from the road and spot a large Tudor-style farmhouse that previously belonged to my Great-Aunt. An extended arm of the family I had vague memories of visiting as a youngster – large alcove fireplaces and dark rooms. It had clearly been gentrified by the current owners but the old home remained. I smiled at the thought of a childhood me imagining cycling from there back to Hampshire.

11am

I had planned the route using the Komoot app and for the most part it was perfect. Only at Benenden School did I have to deviate as signs made it clear that there was no access through the grounds in spite of my gps’ insistence.

Climbing along lanes again, I weave between high hedgerows and beautiful homes. I do wonder if the main appeal of road cycling for me is being able to see country homes and gardens?!

The next field has a footpath running through it so I take a chance to stop, have a wee and some food. Leaning against the bike I wonder whether the landscape has changed much in the last few hundred years? The wind blows across the grasses and birds swoop and glide in its path, low to the grass – these are the kind of moments that stay with you long after the ride.

12pm

When I was preparing for today’s ride, I noted distances and estimated timings for the main towns and villages. Amazingly I am on schedule, if not a little ahead so I decide to stop in Heathfield and wait for Henry and the dogs to catch me up. It has only been a few hours but I’m so pleased to see Henry and the dogs – not just for the hugs but also because I’ve messed up on my hydration and have a massive headache. I could feel it coming so I’d asked them to bring plenty of water, but I’m still cross with myself. I drink a lot on rides and the main problem with small frame bikes is that I am limited on water bottle size. My own stubbornness had stopped me riding with a hip-pack as I do on a mountain-bike, but I am now paying for it.

2.23pm

I love time to myself – I don’t think it’s simply an offshoot of being part of a busy family – I’ve always loved it. Time to talk to myself and think things through, marvel at the joys of the natural world – like three kamikaze squirrels who decided to jump out in front of me as I descended at speed down a country lane.

4pm

I had planned to meet up with Henry and the dogs once more before they peeled off towards the New Forest and I dropped down to the coast. To my joy they are waiting for me, just before I head into Lewes. In my sketchy knowledge of the area, I’d always assumed that Lewes was basically a suburb of Brighton. The 5km cycleway alongside the A24 dual-carriageway between Lewes and Brighton makes it clear exactly how separate they are!

I’ve never been so bored as I am on that cycle-path. The metres drag and it feels like I am never going to make it in to town. Thankfully (unsurprisingly) it finishes and I am deposited in the centre of a busy town heaving with humanity. After hours of riding though glorious countryside I am shocked to find myself feeling scared and claustrophobic.

Like a little country mouse, I scuttle through town and find my hotel. I check in and only pop out to by huge amounts of sushi before getting an early night.