Back in late July, Andy posted a link to the event. Mike commented that he’d be riding the Peaks Sportive the day before, so he declined. I pointed out the opportunity to have another back-to-back day in the saddle for the North Coast 500 we’ll be doing shortly. But he had none of it. So, after sourcing a lift, I entered… I’m not sure Ian knew what he’d let himself in for. He just made himself my head transport, mechanic and banker, but not the navigator.

If you’ve seen Ian’s van, it’s set up for biking. He’s installed four fixings in the rear that the forks clamp into. These can be switched from through-axle to QR – he didn’t realise the bike I was using was 30-odd-years old, bolt-on. Lots of people admire the Saracen’s Girvin Flexstem with its generous 1” travel and Deore LX groupset. State-of-the-art stuff in its day. Ask Ian, as Saracen was one of the bikes he used to sell back in the day. Apparently it has now crossed the line from old to retro. I love it, and not just because it was free! I requested an early pickup – and for some cone spanners, as my rear wheel had a loose axle – sorted out in the frame pdq on arrival. The other thing about Ian’s van is that it’s been lowered. When parking is in a freshly vacated, over-populated (if you catch my drift), very lumpy cow field, it was good that he was yet to fit his splitter, or he’d have been taking it home in the back to refit another time. We saw a few other Club members at the check-in – Norman, Simon (Rhino), Dave and Chris (Break-it) Bray.

Ian and I set off in a group of about eight. We’d only gone a few hundred metres and Ian and I had got on the front. We heard a rider go down. Apparently self-inflicted – he’d hit his brakes too hard, worried about going into the rider in front. Ben hit his forehead with a cut above his eye, helmet damaged and seemed a bit wobbly. The whole group did its best to convince Ben to turn back and get some first aid. Ian and I moved on.

Out in the fields we were going great. We passed more people than passed us. We caught up with Norman and Simon R and some other riders. Ian was near the front and I at the back of the group. Unknown to the two of us, there was a split. I heard a group the other side of a very large hedge. This turned out to be a sub-set of the SNCC contingent. Oh, and that “sub” is only smaller in terms of number of bodies, not other stats. Their route was slow going and it took Ian a while to catch up with me, as I’d pressed on assuming he was ahead. I save routes into Komoot, which gives me verbal directions. This works pretty well most of the time and got me round fine – it quickly tells me when I’m off course. After another split-up, we reached Gamlingay for the halfway feed station. Individual paper carrier musettes with samosa or sausage roll option, cookie, banana, flapjack and coffee were very welcome. Soon after came the best bit of singletrack I’ve ridden in the region! Unfortunately, it’s very short, but, it packs a punch – to the ribs – as Norman later found out. He went A over T (…been there, more than once myself…) in no doubt a spectacular fashion. With my arse hanging out over the back wheel as far as I could get it, my level of control diminished in direct proportion to speed. I was trying not to hold the bars with a white-knuckle death-grip and instead let the bike roll where the brakes failed to slow it. Somehow, I survived, with Ian already out of sight. When I caught him up, Ian modestly explained he’d rolled down with no brakes, but the rutted section at the bottom was dodgy. I can confirm this.

I was on the back with Ian, of course, on the front of another group, when a non-rut put me down – that’s the third time on the trot I’ve gone left and protected the drive-train :D’. The skin on that knee is suffering though. How long does it take to harden into a decent reinforced scar? I was very quickly back up and going again. Then – beep – my Bluetooth headset had disconnected from my phone. Hmmm, where exactly had I come off? Luckily Dave came by. He rang my number and my phone and I were quickly reunited.  This was similar to what happened a few weeks back on a Wednesday evening, although I’d got a mile away before realising. That took longer to reunite us and had to use Andy’s Strava to pinpoint my off.

It was now starting to get warm. Ian had his first cramp, but spun through it. I gave him half my remaining drink and a gel that was probably five years past its BB (but not bad after) D. I had one too – good to be through them at last! I think they were from Ride London 2018. I have a new batch fresh from the Peaks Sportive. Ian knew the area and the Three Horseshoes was just off the route in Hinxworth. We stopped there to rehydrate and take on carbs – Timothy Taylor’s Boltmaker and full fat Coca-Cola, like true weekend warriors. We set off again. Another cramp and we realised that we’d failed on the salt front. Somewhere, a sports nutritionist was quietly weeping. There was another official drinks and snack stop somewhere, no idea where, but very welcome.

We got back to the cow field and most of the cars had left. My arms were pretty well lacerated from the brambles. I’m blaming that on the flat bars, and not the poor lines I took. Responsibility is important, but there are limits. The marshals informed us that Norman had broken his ribs – thankfully that was an exaggeration. As it was an off-road course, there were no signs. It was a great route that comes surprisingly close to St Neots and one we could easily ride ourselves in either direction. Preferably with fewer crashes, less cramp and phones that stay attached to their owners.