If you remember from my previous post; i (stupidly) pledged that i would cycle one mile for every £2 that was generously donated to my cause. This is stupid on two counts; count one, i haven't ridden a bike over 20 miles in the last year, that is to say that i did once last year ride a bike for 20 miles. Count 2, i chose a bad mile to pound ratio. Especially when you lot are as generous as you are. I genuinely had no idea you were that nice! I jest, of course.
As of 12pm on the 4th February 2015, the Grand Total on the GoFundMe Page was exactly £100 (http://www.gofundme.com/l1k6v8). This filled me with both delight and dread, you shouldn't need your abacus to figure out that equates to 50 miles. On the 5th February 2015, i would be delivering the owed mileage to the donators (Thanks again! (both sarcastically and not sarcastically)). Needless to say i slept like a log that night - a log that was still a tree and the following morning would become a log at the hands of the Forestry Commission.
A Lannister always pays his debts, and so do i, this post serves to prove that. My debt is paid.
In my eyes, travelling 50 miles on your own steam = adventure. Adventures need rigorous planning (As i shall explain...). The planning process led me to discover that one of my favorite places in the world, Durdle Door, is almost exactly 50 miles from my front door. Destination - sorted, i'm getting excited now. To get to Durdle Door from Bournemouth one must traverse the Purbeck Hills, i know the area well enough to get to Corfe Castle with my eyes closed. Google Maps kindly reveals that after Corfe it's just one long road to Durdle Door, just don't turn off it, what could possibly go wrong. Google tells me 4.5 hours will do the trick, i budget for all day as i plan to take photos/visit pubs etc. So i know how to get there, which is nice. Planning sorted - perfect.
Figure 0 shows the planned route, minus the intended detour to Lulworth Cove. Straight there, straight back.
(Fig. 0)
With that done, i got some gear together (Figure 1)
(Fig.1)
All the cold weather essentials; beanie, gloves, multi tool, multi socket spanner, puncture repair kit, spare inner tube, glasses, water bottle, Compete energy bites, lid, phone, keys and wallet. That should cover most eventualities. As it happens the gloves held up incredibly well and they've proved themselves expedition worthy, warm and water proof.
Next up, last minute checks that my noble steed is up to the job. Tyre pressure checks, brake checks and a few gear changes tells me Rosetta is all set to go. Rosetta (my bike) is a 1983 Raleigh Sirocco with a Campagnolo Nuovo Gran Sport group set that i found on ebay in a beat up state for £40. She's probably had over 3x her initial cost spent on her since her acquisition and she's still a ragamuffin. Truthfully that's probably what i love most about her. She's a mix-match of cheaply sourced parts; she's got two different brake levers after one snapped off whilst carrying her down some stairs - replaced with a freebie from a local bike shop in Swansea. One of the brake wires has to be routed under the griptape and the other loops over and down the frame. She's wears odd shoes, one silver and one black wheel rim, pretty sure they are different sizes too. One of the original wheels buckled to smithereens when my mates pedal got stuck in my spokes on the way to Uni once. She's also got different coloured cranks, again one black and one silver after the original wore out. Lastly another friend of mine gave me some downhill mountain bike clip in pedals and shoes that are somewhat out of place on a normal road bike; but as you've guessed Rosetta is no normal road bike! The initial clips of the ride video (below) highlight her features!
Much like Bilbo Baggins, i left my home to go on an adventure, unlike Bilbo i went straight to the beach to take advantage of the flat promenade all the way to Sandbanks. This served as an ideal warm up, it was 1-2 degrees that morning, god knows what the wind chill temperature was when i got up to speed but it felt below 0. Here in Dorset, we've got a lot of cool stuff, among the coolest is Poole Harbour, the World's second largest natural Harbour after Syndney Harbour. In the middle of which is Brownsea Island, the home of Sir Baden-Powells brain child - The Scouts, also home to Red Squirrells so that's another thing we've got that you don't. At the mouth of the Harbour is the Sandbanks Chain Ferry (Figure 2), which is a handy bit of kit that saves a ~25 mile trip around the Harbour. The ferry takes about 3 minutes to trundle cars and busses the 300 yards to the other side of the Harbour entrance. For me, most homegrown adventures start with the Sandbanks Ferry as it's the gateway to the Purbeck Hills - an excurters playground.
(Fig. 2)
Off the ferry and back on the bike, down a lovely long straight road through beautiful heathland with Studland beach to my left and the southern most fringes of the harbour on my right, truly out of the town and into the meat of the adventure. Knoll Beach provides my first bit of climbing, nothing major, no dramas, i'm up it and it feels good. Looking to my left at the top i can see Old Harry's Rocks jutting out from the headland and they get me thinking about smugglers and rum as i peddle on through the wee village of Studland. A short while after Studland is where i make my first real ascent to the top of the Purbeck Hill. It was brutal. Over the 2 miles from Studland I gain ~390ft of elevation, breathing like an asthmatic elephant. The climb is worth it though because I know there is a stunning viewpoint at the top of this hill that overlooks the heathland, Poole Harbour and Poole Bay - I can just about see my house from here and at this point i've already travelled 10 miles away from it. The viewpoint was actually a saviour, I could pretend I was soaking in the view when actually I was recovering from my near death experience of the climb trying to pay back as much as the oxygen debt as I could before my muscles started getting cold again. The photos I took don't do it justice so you'll have to believe me about the view.
What goes up must come down! I absolutely zonk it down the hill on my way to Corfe - Map My Ride tells me I clocked 19.3mph going down that hill but i'm almost certain I was doing at least warp speed, if not light speed. Even though i've got my fancy cycling glasses on that stop the wind going in your eyes, my eyes are streaming and I can't see a lot, nevertheless I leave the brakes well alone and plough on down the hill. The descent instantly puts a smile back on my face after the trauma of getting to the top of the hill. I no longer hate hills, i'm just aware that they suck and are awesome at the same time.
Carrying on, I reach Corfe Castle, stronghold of Lady Bankes during the civil war, she was a bit of a badass and saw off two seiges in her castle, then she was somewhat done over by an insider in the castle. Once King Charles 1st finally won the castle, he blew it up. Hence why it's in a bit of a state.
History lesson over i'm now on relatively unknown roads, having never cycled beyond this point in the Purbecks I am relying on the fact that when I looked at Google Maps it looked as though I just needn't turn off the road I was on and I would eventually reach Lulworth. I didn't see many cars on this long stretch of road so I began to feel a bit lonesome and was beginning to fatigue. A particularly cute Robin sitting on a fence post watching me cycle by made me start thinking that all the wildlife in the trees and hedgerows were there to cheer me on like spectators at the Tour de France. The image of a small bird tweeting "Allez! Allez!" whilst waving a banner with my name on spurred me on for the next 3 miles, that was up until I reached Steeple Hill.
Since Corfe, I had been slowly gaining elevation, but Steeple Hill decided that we should just get the rest of the elevation out of the way in one big dirty hill. An elevation gain of 176ft over only 0.3 miles really took it's toll on me. Legs burning, heart pounding and lungs doing their very best, this is where the thought that I might just not be able to make the full distance first crept into my head.
Since Corfe, I had been slowly gaining elevation, but Steeple Hill decided that we should just get the rest of the elevation out of the way in one big dirty hill. An elevation gain of 176ft over only 0.3 miles really took it's toll on me. Legs burning, heart pounding and lungs doing their very best, this is where the thought that I might just not be able to make the full distance first crept into my head.
Although I had just conquered the hardest section of the ride so far, instead of joy and elation when I reached the top, my heart sank. It must've been the fact that my body was still short of oxygen and fatigued but I actually felt quite emotional and downtrodden at the top of Steeple. Figure 3 shows why.
(Fig.3)
As I mentioned in an earlier paragraph about planning, adventures need rigorous planning. What I did that morning was not rigorous planning. I relied on Google Maps information about the road being able to take me there, and to be fair, on some days the good old British Army wouldn't be blowing stuff up and indeed I would've been able to follow the road to my destination. On this day, I neglected the fact that the MoD own half of the Purbecks and use it to train the brave souls who put their lives on the line to protect those who need it. I thank them all for that. However at this particular moment in time they'd put a rather large obstacle in the way of me reaching my goal. Not necessarily knowing the roads around this area that well I had no idea where I would have to re-route myself in order to get to Durdle Door, or how far it would be. Already feeling pretty tired I didn't think I could manage a large detour because Durdle Door wasn't actually my destination, it was the half way point.
My ineffective planning had put me in a bad way. I had promised 50 miles to you donators, I had also promised a picture of me at Durdle Door, I felt that I couldn't let down the people that had given money to the cause, but I didn't know what to do. I sat for a while on a grass verge next the Gate of Denial and the Red Flag of Doom, Figure 4 & 5.
(Fig.4)
(Fig. 5)
Do I turn back and head home a failure or do I plough on, not knowing where i'm going and hope the detour isn't that big? Ploughing on could put me in trouble, I could find my self a long way from home with no energy and not very warm clothes and have to pay for a very expensive taxi to take me home or I can still make it home but I haven't achieved what I set out to achieve. Either way didn't look appealing. As I was sitting there I decided to change where i'd put the GoPro mount on the bike to try and make the video a bit less boring. Two cyclists then appeared out of the corner of my eye and asked me if I was ok, I presume they thought I was trying to fix my bike rather than change the camera POV. One of the chaps had a bike that looked like it would fetch at least £2000, these chaps must know a thing or two about the area I thought, so I asked them for directions to DD. The £2000 man didn't know but his mate John was my savior of the day. He gave me very clear instructions and more importantly told me it was only a 3 mile detour! I was back in the game thanks to John! John had no idea he had just spurred me on to achieve my goal, in fact I didn't even have time to tell them why I was cycling to DD I just thanked them for their help and off they went.
Feeling in a much better mood I decided I would take a 5 minute break, seeing as the view from the top of Steeple Hill was very nice indeed and the locals were friendly enough, Figure 6, 7 & 8.
(Fig. 6)
(Fig. 7)
(Fig. 8)
With Johns encouraging information in my head I crack on, having climbed Steeple Hill I now went down Creech Hill which was a hell of a lot of fun to go down, Map My Ride tells me I hit 20.2 mph, again I question it's accuracy as i'm pretty sure that I was going so fast I accidentally time traveled. I follow Johns instructions, cheers John! What a nice guy John is you're probably thinking. Well John is no saint, he's an arse. 3 miles he told me, 3 miles.
7.5 miles later, the de-tour is over and i'm back on the road that I should've been on if it wasn't for that meddling MoD. Having said those mean things about John, if he had indeed told me it was 7.5 miles then I would've highly doubted my ability to add another 15 miles to the entire journey and maybe I wouldn't have gone for it.
There were one or two occasions whilst skirting round the outside of the live firing area where I nearly turned my cycling shorts brown and fell off the bike, on the first occasion I was in a bit of a rhythm on a flat bit just concentrating on pumping those legs and getting the pedals turned over then BANG! It sounded and felt like a tank had just fired a rocket next to my ear, it was so loud my insides were shaking. I'm still unsure as to what type of ammo they were using but i'm guessing at tanks. That scared the crap out of me to tell you the truth! About 10 minutes down the line and i'm just bumbling along admiring the view because it's very picturesque around there and BOOOM! This time it was definitely a boom instead of a bang, I could only imagine they were pissing about with bombs but I actually felt a wave of force swipe across me and could hear it as it rumbled away for miles. It sounded like it was quite far away when it went but it was 10x louder than the first. For the next hour i'm just terrified of when the next explosion is going to be! I spent a long while thinking about the people for who those explosions are common place and are not training exercises, they rip families apart and kill thousands of people, leaving survivors with nowhere to live travelling by any means necessary with all their worldy possesions on their back trying to find a place to live where they don't have to fear dying at any moment. As I cycle around the complex I recognise that this is where Top Gear filmed that episode where they were running away from a tank in a Range Rover.
Lightening things up a bit, up ahead I can see the front gate to the training facility, at which there is placed (for display only) two British tanks. Intrigued, I decided to stop off and take a quick photo for the blog, Figure 9. Approaching the curb to stop I unclipped one foot, so as to lean on it when i stopped, still travelling towards the curb I get somewhat distracted by the awesomeness of this great big hunk of kit and entirely forget about the curb. My front wheel smashes into the curb and I go flying over the handle bars, however I only managed to unclip one foot so as I flip over the bars, the rest of the bike follows me too. I imagine it looked like a majestic gymnastics display of steel and human somersaulting through the air in front of a tank. Highly embarrassed and laughing hysterically I look around to see if I got away with it, I didn't. A bemused soldier stood on guard at the gate with his rifle is looking at me as if to say "why on earth did you just cycle into the curb without making any effort to stop yourself?" He graciously doesn't laugh at me, gives me a thumbs up to check if i'm not hurt and then informs me that my crash will be on CCTV and subsequently Youtube! We share a laugh, I ask if I can take a photo of the tank (as the sign says i'm not allowed), permission granted on the basis that I fell off my bike. Pros and Cons, everyone's happy!
(Fig.9)
Still laughing at my own stupidity I cycle off briskly on my way to Lulworth Cove. It doesn't take too long and i'm happy because I know now that I am dangerously close to achieving what I set out to achieve, a photo of myself at DD so I can prove to you guys that I did the journey. Before that however, you can't just ignore Lulworth Cove, it's a geographers wet dream and an all round awesome place. I wheel on down to the cove to take a few snaps (Figure 10, 11 & 12) and pop into the Lulworth Cove Inn for a packet of Mini Cheddars and a sit down on a comfy chair because my arse is beginning to feel tender (Figure 13).
(Fig. 10)
(Fig. 11)
(Fig. 12)
(Fig. 13)
Lulworth Cove Inn is a nice place, they have nautical charts of the UK as wallpaper, which is something i've always wanted in my house. Durdle Door is about 1 mile away, just up and over a 300ft hill so without further ado I get back on the bike and tackle it. I'm pretty knackered now but i'm so determined to get to DD that the hill doesn't bother me much and i'm there in 15 minutes.
In order to get to DD you have to go through some horrible caravan holiday site which annoys me beyond bounds. As you can see in the video (below) I decide that i'm going to ride Rosetta down the very steep loose gravel path to get to what feels like the finish line, this was pretty fun and quite sketchy but much better than walking it.
Here is it ladies and gents, the one reason i'm actually writing this blog, so I can show you these photos. I am immensely proud of them. Figure 14 & 15.
(Fig. 14)
(Fig. 15)
It doesn't take me long to realise that I haven't achieved anything yet, i'm only half way and I have about a quarter of a tank of energy left. The maths doesn't compute but i'm here now and i've gotta get home some how.
And i'm back on the bike, I won't bore you much with the return journey because it was very much the same on the way back but about twice as bad in terms of fatigue. The Creech Hill that I enjoyed flying down had to be gotten up, I tried my damned hardest to do it without getting off the bike but I was defeated. I think I got about 3/4 of the way up it, zig zagging my way up the Goliath hill, I just couldn't do it, it felt as though I was in my top gear trying to get up the hill but every time I looked down at my cogs it reaffirmed that I was all out of juice. Legs full to the brim with lactic acid, I barely want to sit in the saddle anymore because my arse is bruised. I'm in tatters. I walk to the top of Creech, zip down Steeple and slowly make my way to Corfe. Stopping only for this photo opportunity, Figure 16.
(Fig. 16)
I also came across an interesting thing on the side of the road where I stopped to get off. Lets play a quick game of guess what the image is...Figure 17 & 18.
(Fig. 17)
(Fig. 18)
Congratulations if you guessed correct! It's a pile of dead moles. Personally i've never seen a mole, so a whole pile of dead ones was a real treat! Look of the size of those hands! Are they called hands on moles? Paws? Claws? Feel free to let me know if you know.
I have barely been out of my 3 lowest gears since I left DD roughly 15 miles ago and I am absolutely knackered, i've already gone way past my comfort zone and I am well and truly in 'get me home' mode. I feel as though I have slipped into a slightly different state of consciousness and focus on breathing in and out to take away from the pain my legs, back and bum are in.
Travelling across the undulating but not overly hilly part between Corfe and Studland I am hit by an utter lack of energy and suddenly get freezing cold. The wind has picked up and it's biting, I don't have enough energy to get myself warm again. Referring again back to how planning is essential, this is another downfall of my poor planning, I should have packed a light windsheet jacket and some more food for energy. I had packed two energy bites, but they just did not do the job. All I could think about at this stage was food, in fact it really, really helped to spur me on, I was becoming dizzy due to a lack of blood sugar and the idea of a bowl of warm chips and a full fat coca cola was a vision of heaven. I knew that in Studland was The Bankes Arms Pub, this is a bloody brilliant pub with views of Old Harrys Rocks and a fantastic beer festival in the summer and it was my next short term goal to achieve.
I managed it, another small victory, I lent Rosetta up against the ivy clad stone walls of the pub and stumbled indoors, barely able to walk or talk at this point, the sight of the warm fireplace filled me with elation. I was devastated to learn that the one thing I had been craving over the past half an hour or so wasn't available as the kitchen was closed. I sat down by the fireplace with a coke and two packets of crisps and I honestly didn't want to continue, Figure 19.
(Fig. 19)
The idea of having to break away from the fireside, to go and sit on what by now felt like a sharp rock saddle in the freezing cold wind and cycle another 8.5 miles to get home was not one that I relished. It took several internal pep talks to finally stand up, which in itself felt like a mammoth task, I had legs of lead. I felt refreshed and had more energy now but still my body was finding it difficult to keep itself warm in the wind, I was facing into the wind so that made everything a lot worse, it genuinely took a lot of mental strength to get me through the Corfe - Bournemouth stretch of my journey. Alas, head down, I got to the Sandbanks ferry again, after this was the home straight, so close now. There was a long wait for the ferry, about 20 minutes and not being appropriately dressed I absolutely froze waiting to board. I was resenting myself for not packing an extra warmer layer, I took shelter behind a small building to get out of the wind but i spent 20 minutes shivering on the side of the road quickly losing morale. Although the view wasn't half bad, Figure 20.
(Fig. 20)
I was in a horrible state, both pysically and mentally but I was nearly home and I was beginning to lose light so there was no time for messing about. Every single time I pushed a pedal down it would hurt my bum, it was self inflicted torture but alas I trundled myself home arriving at about 5 o clock, having left my house at 9.30 that morning I had done a 7.5 hour shift on the road. Obviously there were fair chunks of that time spent in pubs and at view points but I should imagine that I spent over 6 hours actually in the saddle.
Cup of tea and a sit down on a nice comfy sofa and in bed by 9. Quite the day, quite the adventure.
Below is the video that I made of the ride, I appreciate that road cycling isn't the best POV spectator sport in the world but I spent hours making the video so please give it a watch! I had recorded the ride with the Map My ride app, but unfortunately my phone battery died, luckily it died as I was walking back up the hill after having reached DD. The first link is the recorded Map, it has information on elevation gain and time etc for the way there which you may find interesting. Also, i've posted the actual route i rode from Map My Ride, just to show you the actual mileage of the route.
Recorded route:
http://www.mapmyride.com/workout/866391733
Actual route:
http://www.mapmyride.com/workout/866474727
Link to video:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5j__E2Xc5YI&feature=youtu.be
Thanks a lot for reading this blog. Apologies for it being so long! Please keep donating and i will keep riding!
http://www.gofundme.com/l1k6v8
All the best,
Rob Kerr
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