Whether it's a change in the gulf stream, global warming or whatever you care to blame it on, the current changeableness of our climate is, to say the least, extreme.
Like every cyclist we take note of the weather forecast before any ride and prepare accordingly but even this can't prepare you for the severity and ferociousness of the conditions we seem to be experiencing of late.
With rain predicted by late afternoon we seized the day and headed out for a coastal ride towards Bawdsey, Suffolk. Initially billed as a recovery ride after a very swift 50 miler the previous day, it turned into another 'swift' ride. Blame it on the sun or the heat or just the sheer joy of riding out in great weather.
After a leisurely drink and dare we say it, a cheeky Peters (Suffolk's finest) ice cream and having watched the ferry come in and take the day trippers across to Felixstowe - we headed back. The pace was very much club run not peloton by this stage.
The colour of the sky at this time of year is always rich and deep in tone but the edges, where sky meets land were very faded. It looked like we were heading straight into a massive downpour. Good job it wasn't forecast for 2-3 hours.
About 5 miles from home the sky turned dark mauve and the heavens opened on us. It's fair to say that enough rain fell in the course of 20 or so minutes to flood a main road and in places be deep enough to submerge a bottom bracket. Working on the philosophy that once you're wet, you're wet you just keep going but in the back of your mind you still wonder where that beautiful day went.
Nearly a week has now gone by since our first Dunwich Dynamo, the legendary night ride between Hackney and the Suffolk coast that takes place on the Saturday closest to the full moon in July.
The ‘Dun Run’ has grown from a handful of bike messengers who rode the first Dynamo in 1993 to around 2000 riders of all types these days. We saw hardcore racers, tall bikes, Bromptons, knackered old MTBs and pretty much everything in between.
There’s a growing number of night rides these days but there’s nothing quite like the Dynamo, with its lack of waymarks or on-ride support, its minimal organisation and the utter chaos involved in getting anywhere from an obscure little village on the Suffolk coast on a Sunday morning.
We absolutely loved it. From the cyclist rat-runs that get you out of the big city to the potholed lanes of Essex to the confusing final miles in rural Suffolk, the 120-mile route is pretty flat and, thanks to the prevailing south-westerly winds, reasonably quick – we averaged 15mph without really trying.
The spirit of the ride was summed up when we pulled into a feed stop somewhere on the borders of Essex and Suffolk. Like every other feed stop, this one was unofficial and manned by volunteers. Wandering around a darkened garden, we asked a passing stranger if there were any toilets. The stranger turned out to be the owner of the house, who told us as he led us to the bathroom in his home that he’d laid on the refreshments because he used to ride the Dynamo each year and knew that riders might be flagging as they passed his house. Given the low prices he was charging, he was clearly doing it simply for the love of the ride.
After 120 gloriously warm, slightly damp miles, we rolled into Dunwich, where the done thing is to jump into the sea for a refreshing dip before contemplating the tortuous journey home. That journey was pretty grim, far too expensive and seemingly endless. Long overnight rides wreak havoc with your sleep patterns. And exhaustion made the start of this working week feel like a monstrous ordeal. But we’ll definitely be back for another Dun Run – just for the love of the ride.
Days 7 and 8:John O'Groats to home. The first train at Wick didn't turn up yesterday, so the train company provided a minibus to Inverness. £197.40 later I'm at the station, and my wallet did stay closed. (everyone knows that already). The rest of the trains were all on time, Scot Rail and East Coast trains have been brilliant.
Its too early to say if I would do it again. I have been both ways now. My wrists are sore, I had two pairs of shorts on the last day, popping pain killers with eccles cakes in front of Scotlands Constabulary at Golspie. Fatter tyres, at least 2 more gears, and another 12 days would make it enjoyable, on quiet roads but I have been fortunate with the weather.
I've met some lovely people along the way. One couple from Bristol give me £20 without thinking about it and they were on their 15 year late honeymoon going to JoG's! Guys give up their training rides to stay with me at Penrith. Most people couldn't believe what I was doing. One older chap from Burton upon Trent was riding for his father in law, I'm not sure he'll ever get there as he was finding it so difficult. Another guy riding a 125cc scooter with a large rucksack was supporting his 16 year son on his own Lejog trip after finishing school.
The support from friends, family and the people you meet on the way kept me going, mile after mile. This is a beautiful country. Thank you all for believing in me, and thank you Allison for everything you do. XXX.
Day 6:Loch Ness to John O'Groats. It was a long day again. I knew it was going to be that way. The road to Inverness was undulating and had plenty of timber lorries on it. At Inverness you cross the new bridge, which is quite windy, like Bonar Bridge too. Being the Highlands and being on the coast, the ups and downs are bigger. So much so that I pushed the bike up Helmsdale and Berriedale. Lejog'ers will know how steep these are. The Commonwealth Games baton relay was going through Golspie, so I chatted to the police while eating 4 eccles cakes I'd bought locally - I needed the energy. The road doesn't have too many shops on it, so I had to get what rations I could, when I could. At Wick I ditched the bags and headed to John O'Groats. It was no quicker, just easier going uphill. John O'Groats was fairly quiet and I got some selfies before a guy took a photo for me. It was 144 miles today, a grand total of 875 miles.
Day 5:Glasgow SYHA to Invermoriston SYHA. The day started slowly, taking an hour to leave the Glasgow conurbation and going to Arrochar by Loch long to avoid the traffic on the A82. I stopped at Helensburgh to get more inner tubes. From Tarbet to the hostel it was "main" roads all the way. At Tyndrum I stocked up on water as the sun was out and I was glad of it. The climbs were long but moderate in steepness to get onto Black Mount and Rannock Moor. I could no longer walk or my cleats won't engage the pedal. Going down into Glen Coe required turning the pedals. It should have been an easy run up the lochs for 50 miles but the slight wind is against me, stronger in the evening somehow. 146 miles and one day to do!
