The fnrttc group meets at Hyde Park Corner in London, on nights when the moon is at its fullest. You have probably guessed it, but they then cycle to a bit of coast - this year the list has included Southend, Brighton and Whitstable, although next year the list of destinations looks to be growing. This Friday's ride was to Southend, and I chose to go on it as the gentlest, shortest ride (55 miles).
It was an unusual and inspiring experience. We got the train just after 10 and then cycled to Hyde Park. Cycling in central London is a bit hairy - especially for a non-driver with only a vague sense of the highway code - but it was exhilarating. I just copied the bike in front while trying to keep my brain engaged. Arriving at Hyde Park I was confronted with the biggest array of luminous jackets I think I've ever seen (sort of like coming home, as I usually live in mine)! We set off just after midnight, under a cloudy but relatively bright moon, and whizzed past some of the most famous London sights illuminated - Big Ben, The London Eye in resplendent purple ... it was an experience to remember. It was particularly 'disengaging' (in the sense of giving you a sense of separation from reality) to see all the clubbers and general revellers of London doing their thing as we did ours. And the clubs offered snippets of soundtrack to our ride. Anyway, I'd started chatting to the lovely Bernie at Hyde Park corner, and we stuck together throughout most of the journey encouraging each other and chatting away (it was B's first time too).
The cycle was very well organised and the waymarking worked like clockwork. Various experienced riders held back and signalled the way, and then whizzed back to the front to carry on. I particularly enjoyed seeing the chaps on recumbents speeding back and forth - they looked like daredevil beetles with bobbing heads. It was only about three-quarters of the way through that I realised that there were several people on bikes with no gears! There was also a chap on a Brompton, and I sort of wished I was on mine. It would have been doable - the pace was very manageable, and it felt very free and easy. I wondered why, and then someone told me we had a following wind all the way.
We stopped half-way at a service station to refuel and caffeinate ourselves, which was another surreal moment. As we piled all our bikes inside, I realised I had dropped in on this station before in a car! I'd never have thought that my next visit would be like this.
The service station!
Setting off again after coffee and cake was hard, but we soon got the legs going. It was liberating cycling on empty roads, zooming around huge roundabouts without a care, watching the stream of lights and reflective jackets sweep by in an arc.
After a while we left the big roads and ended up on some unlit hedge-edged roads. Here I felt I needed to be more cautious, and kept a firm eye on the road surface. I was amazed to see the fearless recumbents cycling on the wrong side of the road, around bends and so low down, to overtake the general stream. It was at this, the darkest point, that one of the group had a puncture, and as we stopped to wait, I employed all my layers (wool base layer, hat with ear flaps, full gloves). I felt quite smug that I had actually chosen just the right amount of clothes to bring.
That said, the early hours of the morning were definitely the hardest. The mind started to wander and thoughts of loss panged in. Sometimes even the craziest of diversions just can't distract.
At East Tilbury we had a diversion and a short cultural talk from the ride leader, Simon. He explained the history behind Bata Town which was interesting, but which was also a ploy to ease out the ride length a little further, as we couldn't get into the cafe for breakfast until 7 am!
We also stopped at a point to admire the lights and the view over what was probably the sea. By this stage the physical energy was there but the brain was beginning to fade, and I felt almost like falling asleep while freewheeling down some of the hills. I had to wake myself up by sprinting up a hill - which had me coughing for the next five miles.
Pausing to look at the lights
Gradually the sky began to lighten, and we stopped again to look at the sea, before cruising along all the 'No Cycling' signs along the promenade. The wind grew stronger, and the folded sails of the boats whistled and knocked insistently against hundreds of masts. The sea gulls' cries mingled with the wind rushing through sea grass. It was a melancholy but intriguing soundscape set against vast mud flats backed by grey-violet light.
As we came up to the cafe, past the gaudy signs of 'Adventure world', I was looking forward to refreshment. I was truly exhausted, mentally if not physically, and my eyes kept closing as I sat waiting for breakfast. It eventually came in the form of fried bread, egg, beans and mushrooms, and a cup of tea AND coffee and several packets of sugar. Immediately I felt much perked - and ready to find the station back to London and then MK. Some crazies on fixies and recumbents were cycling back to London!
In the cafe at the end
I thought I'd sleep on the train but chatted about cycling and running all the way back. I must have been a bore. I hope I can make the next one. It was a fabulous experience. Going without sleep for a night needs to be done - it gives you a new perspective on time and the limits of your endurance. I didn't sleep on Saturday, either (save for one hour) but went to bed at nine. Yes, I slept really rather soundly.
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