Central London CTC blog

I had considered cyclists a moderately intelligent bunch of people, but now I have my doubts. The weather forecasts had been resolutely dire. These were no surprise, just a continuation of the wettest July in memory. But, at 7 p.m., London Fields was crowded with riders intending to ride through the night to Dunwich (no, not Dulwich, Madam – we’re going to Suffolk).

The Dynamo crowd are a good cross-section of London cycling – roadies, fixies (both Fakenger and Fraudax) , ‘bents from the Dark Side,  pannier heavy tourers,  T-shirt clad  flat bars.  There were CTC groups, ACF, LCC,  Racing clubs and many  independents. They had gathered for no reason other than the ride – no prizes given, no points gained, no donations ‘suggested’. All rather quaint and old-fashioned really.

About 8 p.m. Central London set off – Myself, Ken and Camille representing versions of the Fixie squad, John, Angela and Alex sensibly  sporting gears and ‘guards. Like many, we intended to make steady progress away from the crowds, and we were sprightly  and  eager to North  Weald, our first  comfort stop.  Where we felt the first few drops of rain.

But a little light rain hurt no-one, and on we went. Even your ever-dependable navigator had no need to check the route. We were on roads well-ridden, as soon as we passed one group of glowing led’s another would appear, the occasional cluster stopped at a pub or gathered roadside. It was especially a relief to get ahead of those who had left bright rear lights on flashing mode, blinding those behind.

The rain was getting more insistent. Not really intense, but it could no longer be dismissed.  Now I’ve always depended on a dynamo for The Dynamo. The light output is as good as almost any, no batteries to run low, no clutter on the bars. And I’ve used this dynamo in rain, mud, and snow. But with different tyres.  Smooth race tyres, pumped up to their max,  a consistent wetness, and I’m plunged into darkness, but for my head torch. Often the glow through the cloud and the white centre line meant I could still make good way, but a winding descent under the trees would slow me to a crawl.

Great Dunmow. Another stop, John capes up as we nibble. Onward and purposeful.  Soon another stop, as I resign and put on my showerproof (which merely delays the saturation). Soon, it’s heavy rain. Down the A road to Sudbury we’re soaked, through the town, up the hill, and it’s a rush for the Village Hall.

The feed stop is packed, we queue outside in the downpour, squeezing in just as we feel  our temperatures drop. The wooden floor is awash, the more equipped strip down and change, others merely drip disconsolately. We sit, we watch and we wait. The rain continues. The night air is bitter. We ponder, we plot, and we wait.

At 5 a.m the sun is up, the roads are dry, there’s a warmth in the air. As the last stragglers ride into the control, we turn and head back. A pleasant rolling road takes us direct to Colchester, in good time for the first train home.

We may not have achieved  heroically, but at least we under-achieved enjoyably.

JOHN’S BIT:

When it’s 6.30pm on a pleasant, sunny Saturday afternoon, and one has spent the afternoon watching Thin Lads belting across the Charente in skin suits at 50kph, one really doesn’t want to cycle across the City to Hackney wearing Briko’s answer to Gore-Tex (similar, but more Italian), longs and neoprene overshoes.

And when one has spent all Saturday morning putting on new tyres, bolting on lights, packing one’s seatpack and making ham, smoked cheddar and anchovy bagels (not all in the same bagel), one really doesn’t want to not go cycling.

One of these was a mistake. Looks like I’ll be bolting on a pannier frame next year to carry replacement kit and wet-weather gear if the weather promises to be terribly British again.

The weather turned from refreshing dampness to Proper Rain (that’s when it bounces back up again) somewhere between Finchingfield and Sible Hedingham. By the time we got the “food” stop at Great Waldingfield we were, to quote from RL Stevenson’s Travels with a Donkey in the Cevennes, “handsomely wetted” (and my travels in the Cevennes mean I know exactly what he meant). Once we’d stopped (and queued in the rain – unnecessarily if you didn’t in fact want any of the “food”) we got colder and colder. After about an hour we’d decided. No, we’re not going out in that again.

So we wimped. I didn’t get to finish my fifth Dynamo. Then there’s always next year. Not to mention a ride I propose for the late May Bank Hol Sunday (probably 25 May) next year – “Dunwich by daylight” – Like the Dynamo, but with scenery you can see, eateries open all day and a plethora of wimp options. Start from Epping tube as early as possible, up to 230km, spend the next day lying down.