Riding the Ridgeway — Lessons from a foul weather long distance off-road bike ride in the UK
A boozy holiday dinner in Cornwall leads to a plan
As some might know, I’ve been hacking around off-road in England on my gravel/adventure bike for a few years now. In recent years, inspired by the exploits of others, I’d started to wonder about something a little more epic. In particular, I’d gotten it in mind that it would be possible to ride from Lands End to John O’Groats almost entirely off-road.
Like many ideas, that would have probably been that. Except among other things 2017 was an eventful year; it saw my uncle Tim’s sixtieth, my grandma’s passing and my fiftieth. To round things out, and somewhat for old time’s sake, we organised a family get together in Cornwall, we all needed the break.
Anyway, one boozy dinner night of the holiday the idea of the LEJOG off-road was mentioned. Tim was interested (perhaps not unexpectedly), and I’d inadvertently found someone who also thought it sounded like fun, an appropriate rage against the dying of the light and something my Grandmother, an adventurous cyclist in the days before the war, would also have approved of. Everyone else thought we were mad but egged us on regardless; such are families :-)
Sane or not, neither of us has ever undertaken something of this scale. So as part of the preparation for the adventure, we thought it would be wise to make a shorter trip first to check things out; luggage, bikes and that the “old boy” Tim could put up with his “young” nephew on a multi-day ride.
So a plan was formulated. We would do a test ride back from Tim’s home in Rode near Bath to mine in Bedford. We would do this predominantly off-road following the 5,000 plus years old Ridgeway.
It sounded like a good option as:
- We both wanted to fully ride it.
- I’d ridden chunks of it before and thought it would be reasonable going unless the weather was appalling.
- I could work out a route that was almost entirely off-road away from traffic.
- We’d be unlucky not to have Britain’s prevailing South Westerly winds on our backs.
- At 238km and with 2300m of climbing we’d split it in two and stop in a nice pub about halfway along (original routes here and here).
It shouldn’t be crazy hard, but at the same time, it would be far more of a thorough test than a day ride. We’d go in April; Tim had a break, and the weather would be getting better.
How hard could it be?
Day minus four— Baby steps — test riding locally
April 2018 rolled around.
In the week before the grand depart the luggage arrived, I worked out my kit list and loaded the bike. Even obsessing over contents I had about 7.5 kg of extra weight hanging off the frame. With a drink, the bike and luggage came in with a total weight just under 18 kg.
Thankfully, taking the bike out for a short fully loaded test ride showed everything working and confirming to expectations. The luggage worked fine. Hike-a-bike and lifting over five bar gates were to be avoided. The bike, with bags packed carefully, handled ponderously but was still rideable on the rough stuff.
No drama, at least so far for an hour or so.
Day one — Rode to Goring on Thames — many lessons learnt
The following week we departed from Rode on Monday the 9th of April 2018. The weather before and after the test ride had been quite consistently wet. The day itself was overcast with gentle drizzle and a light wind blowing against us from the North East. I was expecting the going to be a bit harder than planned, we were both committed to the date.
Despite this things started off well. Team photo and waved off. A short tarmac stretch into Trowbridge with the commuters and then easy going along the towpath into Devizes.
At Devizes, we snuck in an early coffee stop but foolishly (as it turned out) skipped on the cake. Then out the other side along quiet lanes to Horton and then up onto the Wansdyke Path towards the Ridgeway proper. As we climbed, our world turned a green and very very muddy brown colour.
The riding got slower and harder but we ploughed on, sometimes it felt literally, crossing the M4 to the east of Swindon.
Having exhausted our supply of cereal bars and becoming increasingly hungry, we followed a sign off the Ridgeway and attempted to take lunch at the Royal Oak at Bishopstone. Only to find we’d missed the service and had to content ourselves with packets of crisps, a beer, a coffee and a fire. All of which were welcome, but not quite the complete meal substitute.
This break was at close to 80km from our start. Tim was keen to stop at the pub, and I wish I had listened to him. Instead, we left and got back onto the Ridgeway. As we continued, the route didn’t improve, and after another 20km off-road we were broken.
Cracked, I fired up the phone and figured out an alternative road-based route to Goring. We gritted our teeth and with Google’s “help”, ground out the last 20km mostly on tarmac.
We set off in that morning from Rode and arrived at the John Barleycorn pub in Goring on Thames almost eleven and a half hours later. The total distance for the day was 121.68km, not that far right. We averaged 13.7 km/h in the nine hours of cycling. Easy, not a bit of it. It was bloody hard. My average heart rate was 144 bpm. For the stato’s like myself, full ride details over on Strava here.
By the end, we were cold, wet and miserable and both very pleased to arrive at the pub and its hot showers, warm food and beer.
Day two — Goring on Thames to Bedford — bail early and eat often (just in case)
Perhaps a better omen, but the day started with slightly improved weather; still overcast but with a bit less rain. However, after the privations of the previous day, we were determined to take no chances. So we loaded up. Then started as we meant to go on with an excellent breakfast at the Goring Village Cafe. Before finally departing the cafe and with our pockets stuffed with their homemade Granola bars — just to be on the safe side.
We did 20km more of the Ridgeway. It wasn’t as bad as the previous day, but in truth, our hearts were not really in it. So after we crossed the M40, we bailed onto a “supposed” road route from Google.
Around Tring, the route’s idea of what might be reasonable to tackle on a road bike diverged significantly from what I would wager most would be happy to tackle popping out to the shops. First along the remnants of a muddy canal towpath, one small slip away from a swim. Then, following that up with a swamp of some of the stickiest clay I’ve ever known. However, the previous day had prepped us well, and once back on the tarmac, a bit more food and drink and we were on our way.
At Totternhoe, we picked up the original route. Then through Dunstable and Luton, via a Fried Chicken Shop (you get sick of the sweet stuff eventually) and its locals bemused at the two bikers caked in mud.
After Luton, it was back up through to Bedford via Barton Le Clay, Chicksands and the John Bunyan Trail. Super muddy as everywhere else, but finally the sun turned up and we were on the home stretch.
About ten hours after we set off from Goring that day we arrived back at base in Bedford. Total distance for the day was 121.25 km. We took about seven and a quarter hours of cycling to cover that and our average speed, when cycling and not eating, was 15.6 km/h. My average heart rate was 144 bpm, full details on Strava here.
Getting off the bike at the end felt bloody awesome.
Lessons learnt - better planning needed
Because of the weather the preceding week the actual ride was a lot harder than anticipated. While it was a grind, it was also actually good to have such a severe test. We did uncover several things we otherwise might have overlooked about riding distance’s off-road in crap weather (important when the ultimate goal involves mountains and Scotland).
Here are my main learning points.
1) Plan at half, to two-thirds of the dry distance you know you are capable of if the ground is any way doubtful — unless it’s a bone dry summer, it usually will be in the UK.
As I’ve ridden similar efforts fairly frequently before, I worked on roughly 100km or 1700m of climbing, whatever came first when planning. This time it wasn’t that hilly, so I couldn’t see the harm of extending the distance a bit to allow us to fit the ride neatly into two days.
What I hadn’t factored in was the impact of the luggage’s extra weight, I’d managed to plan a route that was almost all off-road and most of all the super saturated, energy sapping, slow going sogginess of the ground.
In hindsight, we should have split it into three. In the conditions we encountered about 80km per day would have been plenty for us and the whole ride far more enjoyable as a result.
2) Fully plan your food and drink
We messed this up big time. We assumed we’d be able to easily find sustenance on the route or quickly nip off for it. This worked fine on the second day, but on the first, it was a litany of disaster.
On the first day, we waited too long to venture off-route for lunch. We soul-crushingly missed the lunch service at the Royal Oak when we did. Other pubs we passed were closed on a Monday. After Devizes, there were no tea rooms, coffee shops or even garages until right at the end of the ride when we were on the road.
It turns out when cycling in the country there’s not a shop on every street corner, in fact, there are not even that many street corners. Who knew? Evidently not us well enough— lesson learnt.
We should have either fully planned our sustenance stops or been self-sufficient. It’s infinitely easier to put up with being cold and wet if you’ve got warm food and drink inside you.
3) Plan a contingency bailout route
When you’ve cracked and want to abandon the route. Close to the last thing you want to have to do is to have to muck about finding an alternative. You will be miserable, there will be no phone signal, it will be cold, raining and your phone’s touch screen will miss-behave. Once you have got that, no doubt hurriedly, planned alternative route. You might then find after starting it it is going to have you cycling along a motorway, in a canal or through a swamp.
We were just about lucky, but even the best automated cycle routing is still pretty damn flakey at this point in time. So if you can (and I could have), have an easier alternative ready planned and loaded onto your navigation device.
Onwards and upwards
Two weeks or so later, my body and backside have forgiven me, and I have had time to digest and reflect.
We learnt a lot. Some things went wrong, but our bodies held up and much worked pretty well. We had no mechanicals, my beautiful Ibis Hakka MX, the tyres, luggage, lights and navigation setup all performed as hoped.
It’s true that it was pretty grim at times. But finding this stuff out now beats discovering it when you’re halfway up a mountain. As such, plans are proceeding for LEJOG off-road, perhaps a little more conservatively, but progressing none the less and this trip was a success.
To be continued …
