How ordinary miles turned into something more

I’ve been a cyclist most of my life, but I wouldn’t have called myself a cycling enthusiast. For years, the bike was just something I rode now and then. I didn’t buy my first proper road bike until 2019, and even then it wasn’t anything special — an old Trek 2.3 Alpha, bought sight unseen from a mate for £185. I figured if it was big enough for him, it would be big enough for me.

That bike still hangs from the ceiling of my shed.

Like many people, my real cycling journey began during lockdown. I started with five miles, then ten, then fifteen. Nothing heroic. Just getting out of the house. Eventually I could ride 25 miles comfortably, so I set myself a small challenge: 25 miles a day, every day, for 25 days. No rush. No targets beyond turning the pedals.

The first week felt tiring. After ten days I still felt tired, but I could manage it. By three weeks, something odd happened — it just felt normal. That was my first real lesson in endurance: you don’t suddenly become fit, you just stop noticing the effort.

From there, the miles crept up. Fifty became manageable. Sixty felt like an achievement. I rode up to Leicester to see my mum — which at the time felt like a full-blown expedition, complete with cheese sandwiches, fruit and emergency chocolate. Then one day I rode from Cambridge to Bristol to visit the friend who’d sold me the bike. About 160 miles. For years, that remained my longest ride.

Eventually, curiosity pushed me further afield. I decided I’d ride to Geneva to visit a friend. I didn’t really know what I was doing. I packed camping kit, strapped everything to the bike, and headed for Newhaven to catch the ferry to Dieppe. Two miles from central London, I broke a spoke. A local bike shop fixed it and asked where my cycling kit was. I said I didn’t need any. He smiled and said, “You’ll be sore.”

He was right — about many things.

That first attempt at riding to Geneva didn’t go to plan. Covid travel rules intervened, and I ended up turning around before France. But it was still a learning experience, and cycling seems to be made almost entirely of those. One of the things I learned was simple: buy decent wheels. I invested in a sturdy set designed for heavier riders, and the following year I tried again.

This time, I made it.

The journey unfolded in fragments rather than stages: the South Downs out of London; a quiet ferry crossing; rolling off into France and following parts of the Avenue Verte; freestyling routes when things wandered too much; sleeping in bivvy bags when campsites turned out to be little more than car parks in the woods.

Paris arrived almost by surprise. The outskirts were eerily quiet, then suddenly everything was busy — it was Bastille Day. Bridges were closed, parades everywhere, and I found myself watching the French Foreign Legion march through the city before heading on my way.

Further south, the rhythm settled in. Long Roman roads. Canal paths that began smooth and inviting, then turned into washboard mud and overgrown grass. Small towns that looked deserted until you climbed one last hill and found life, food and somewhere to sit.

The mountains came gradually, then all at once. Long, grinding climbs on a heavily loaded bike. Careful descents. And then, one day, a sign at the top of a pass: Switzerland.

That ride took eight days. I learned more than I can list: about navigation, pacing, kit, and my own limits. But more than anything, I learned why riding a long way suits me.

The last few years had been heavy ones. Losses in the family. Illness among close friends and colleagues. Cycling became a place where I could process things without having to talk about them.

That’s probably why Audax appealed when I eventually discovered it. Cycling a long way, slowly — but not that slowly.

If there’s one thing I’d pass on to anyone in the club who’s curious about riding further, it’s this: you don’t need to be fast, or fearless, or especially brave. You just need to be patient, a bit stubborn, and willing to see what happens if you keep going.

Sometimes, a long way slowly turns out to be exactly the right pace.

Audax: Cycling a Long Way, Slowly (and Why That Appeals) – Part 2

If you spend any time around cyclists who enjoy riding beyond the café stop, you’ll eventually hear the word Audax. It tends to be spoken quietly, often with a mixture of curiosity and mild apprehension. Long distances. Time limits. Riding through the night. Stamps in petrol stations at unsociable hours.

It can sound intimidating.

In reality, Audax is one of the most inclusive, flexible and quietly rewarding forms of long-distance cycling I’ve come across. And crucially, it isn’t about being fast — it’s about being steady, organised, and self-reliant.

What is Audax?

At its simplest, Audax is about riding a set distance within a generous time limit, following a defined route and proving that you’ve passed certain points along the way (known as controls).

In the UK, typical distances are:
50 km
100 km
200 km
300 km
400 km
600 km

Time limits are deliberately achievable. For example:
200 km gives you 13½ hours
300 km gives you 20 hours
400 km gives you 27 hours

You don’t need to race anyone. You don’t need to ride in a group. You just need to keep moving, manage yourself, and arrive at each control within the allowed window.

What Audax isn’t

Audax is not a race, a mass-start sportive, or a test of bravado or suffering for its own sake. There’s no podium, no prizes, and very little noise. Many riders start early, disappear quietly onto country roads, and finish without much fanfare beyond a cup of tea and a receipt.

Why it appealed to me

I came to Audax sideways. I’d already ridden long distances — touring, solo trips, multi-day rides — and I liked the rhythm of long hours on the bike. I liked planning routes, solving small problems, and riding alone with my thoughts.

Audax turned out to sit neatly in that gap: structured, but flexible; sociable if you want it to be, solitary if you don’t; demanding, but rarely dramatic.

How Audax works in practice

When you enter an Audax event, you’ll receive a route (often as a GPX file), a list of controls, and a time window for completion.

Controls can be cafés, shops, petrol stations, village halls, or sometimes just a sign or postbox.

Proof of passage is usually provided by a receipt, stamp, photo, or GPS tracking.

How to get started

Join Audax UK. Start small with a 50 km or 100 km ride. Choose between calendar events, permanents, or DIY rides. Focus on completion, not speed.

What to expect

Time matters more than pace. Navigation matters. Fatigue comes in waves. Night riding is quieter and calmer than expected.

My own experience so far

My first proper Audax taught me more than I expected. I discovered how tight timings can feel, and how satisfying quiet self-reliance can be.

Why Audax suits club riders

If you enjoy long steady rides, curiosity over competition, and substance over spectacle, Audax offers a natural progression.

Where to find out more

Audax UK provides clear guidance, calendars, and support for beginners.

Final thoughts

Audax isn’t about suffering. It’s about continuity — keeping going when the novelty wears off.

Sometimes, cycling a long way slowly is the point.

2025 Strava Miles Roll of Honour

Cycling means different things to different people. Yes there is the competitive racing element of the sport but not winning (or even taking part in) that race doesn’t devalue the achievements of the goals we set ourselves.

As a club we promote the ‘serious’ side of cycling at the same time as focussing on other important elements like community, inclusion, adventure, friendship, shared experiences and good vibes.

KMS Miles
Justin Lomas 21319 13247
Stephen Ellerbeck 18,523 11510
Sam McDonald 18343 11398
Rob Moirs 17490 10867
Norman King 12636 7852
Pat Ellerbeck
Not bad year considering broken femur and minor stroke		 12194 7577
geoff 11,075 6881
Sarah Bailey 10526 6541
Tom Stead 9667 6013
Richard Slade 9,160 5,692
David Thomas 8473 5264.9
Chris Pook 7678 4771
Simon Richardson 7378 4585
Tina Dankwart 6574 4085
Bob Tate 5514 3,426
Monty 5459 3392
Julian Barnes -Hall 3454 2146
Nikky Vass 895 556.1

Christmas Dinner at Bospherus

The christmas dinner and drinks beforehand at Ferro were a great success with over 20 club members participating

Read more

Melton Mowbray report

A 116km in Leicestershire covering 1,600m of height gain (or so we thought)

Read more

300km Audax: Moonrakers and sunseekers

I hadn’t completed in the Audax Year Nov 24 to Oct 25 a 300Km Audax. This has been on my “to do” list for a while and watched it a few times on YouTube by Adam Watkins. I knew a few who’d ridden it and they said it was a great event. Simon Richardson travelled down with me Bristol Parkway and I picked him up at about 3pm and we travelled down in the drizzle and hoping the forecast of the rain stopping before the start was correct. I had decided to ride my good bike, my Moda and this chose to be a good choice. Simon wasn’t riding the event but took the easier!! Option of cycling back to Gamlingay, just 140 miles overnight, it turned out he had rain till the early hours of the morning and a mechanical, but in true Audax style completed the ride home.

After the disappointment of LEL being cancelled and I’d abandoned a 200K Audax the previous weekend I was determined to do myself proud and complete this. Simon and I tried to find a place serving coffee but failed, luckily we’d had some food and coffee at the last serives on the M4 before Bristol. I said goodbye to Simon and rode the 5 miles to the start over cycleways which seem to abound in Bristol. Got to the start area (a community playground and had a cup of tea and eat a banana. I had met Max as I rolled up, he was starting at 2220 and Rob Hale (ELSR) at the start also starting at 2220. My 2140 start soon came round and off we went in the drizzle, meandering through the busy and lively Bristol streets. After about 4 miles we were out into the countryside and I was in a group of 4, setting a reasonable pace. All felt OK and we were soon in Bath, another lively town. After we left Bath, I was with another couple of riders, a car came past, slowed down and wound down his window and asked why all the cyclists were out, so I explained, he said cool, I think he was a cyclist.

Got to Devizes the first control, this was a paper Brevet event, tea and cake, then off, trying to minimise the stops, it was after midnight now. Then off to Salisbury I was making good time. I missed the second control and saw a couple of riders who told me it was about 600 yards back, no idea how I missed it, but once I got there it was obvious. Then a long stretch to Ringwood, I spent the next 25 miles averaging about 16mph, result. Feeling really good, in groups again, at one stage there was about 16 of us riding in the New Forest fog. We got to Hinton Admiral, a garage for coffee and food (an info control (how much is unleaded)), just before 5am. I’d ridden these roads before.

Then off to Bournemouth (back of the net) and along the sea front to Poole, very sandy in places which was hard and slow progress, a cycleway was closed so had to walk across wet long grass. Got to Poole, full breakfast and tea and halfway (well 95 miles in). Still trying to minimise the stops. It was now dawn and I set off with 2 others and off towards Milton Abbas, now came the next climbs, my Achilles heel and I slowed as a consequence. Got to the control and had a bacon sarnie, tea and felt better. Off again, uphill and down dale and I was having a energy slump but pressed on. Time was passing but I was always over an hour inside the cut offs. Bit of a blur but got to Glastonbury, 2 punctures had self-sealed, brill I’d used Silca Sealant when I prepped the bike.

Across the Somerset flats to Cheddar, I knew I would make it in plenty of time. Next a 8-mile stretch of the Strawberry Line, last control got, but I didn’t stop for food. Then we were entering Bristol, there were about 8 of us and we meandered through Parks and cycleways through a busy city centre to the finish at 1650. Food, coffee, chat with Rob, no sign of Max (no wonder he was hours ahead of me (machine)).

Really pleased with that ride after a couple of DNF’s over a 300K and a 400K earlier in the season. Will Pomeroy, the organiser is a great guy and talks to everybody and is a legend in the Audax world. I highly recommend this event if you’re looking for a late season challenge.

Next, well the Audax year has restarted, I have 3 points already and looking at doing RRtY (a 200Km every calendar month, Randonneur Round the Year)), so a permanent 200Km from Stevenage, a 100Km in Dec, a 200Km in December and maybe a punt at the Full Fat Festive which I did not complete 2 years ago after getting soaked and cold and dropped out after 140+ miles.

 

Longues-sur-Mer, Normandy

Trying to eke the most out of the hottest summer on record, 8 intrepid travellers (7 SNCC members and 1 guest) headed over the pond to Longues-sur-Mer in Normandy. The purpose of the trip was twofold: to get some miles in on the quiet, flat(ish) Normandy roads while also visiting the best of the D-Day memorial sites. Longues-sur-Mer is ideally situated between Omaha and Gold Beaches, with the other D-Day beaches (Utah, Juno and Sword) all within easy reach.

The trip was conceived in September 2023 when Martin, Mark and Mike did the Pyrenees coast-to-coast traverseé, accompanied by Martin’s friend, John Hammond, who transported the trio to and from the departure/arrival points in his Ford Transit. As well as being a qualified bike mechanic (always handy on trips such as these), John is an enthusiastic amateur historian and regaled the trio on the long drive down to Collioure, the start point for the Pyrenees crossing, with stories of the Allies’ daring exploits during WWII. A return trip was suggested to combine some pedalling with the D-Day highlights, with John as the tour guide, and two years later here we are.

Getting there

As for the Pyrenees trip, Martin, Mark and Mike travelled over with John in his transit. With John living near Reading, he opted to take the 6-hour Portsmouth-Caen ferry followed by a short drive to Longues-sur-Mer. The other foursome, comprising Tom Muldoon, Simon Winter, Alistair Henderson and David Thomas (not he of Everesting fame, but his Buckden namesake), opted to take the shorter Channel Tunnel crossing to Calais, followed by a longer 4-5 hour drive to Longues-sur-Mer. Swings and roundabouts, with the overall travel times being about the same.

The villa

After a lifetime of executive travel, Martin refuses to stay anywhere “budget” and sourced “L’echo des Vagues”, a magnificent 10-bed villa within a mile of the coast, complete with its own pétanque pitch and BBQ area for some light evening entertainment.

We found the villa, located on the suitably named “Route de Chaos”, without too much trouble and settled in. Since the weather was forecast to deteriorate over the week, we thought we would make the most of the warm evening with a first-night BBQ, fuelled with a plentiful supply of local beer and wine.
Unaccustomed as he was to the new accommodation, Martin made a rookie error and walked straight into a (closed) patio door, almost breaking his nose and the door in the process. At least he’ll blend in with any hardened war veterans he might encounter over the coming days.

The cycling

The 5 D-day landing sites are spread across the Normandy coastline between Cherbourg and Caen:

The more organised ones in the group did some groundwork before we left, with John proposing a list of sites worth visiting, Mark plotting some Garmin routes and Martin linking together the points of interest into point-to-point Google “itineraries”. The aim was to cover the 5 landing sites with 4 routes:

With the best weather forecast for the first riding day, we opted to head out on the longest route, a 95-mile round trip to Utah beach. Immediate impressions were of flat roads (no more than 3% gradient), great road surfaces (not a pothole to be seen) and virtually no traffic (the only real hazards being the occasional tractor or loose bit of gravel) – cycling heaven.
Having reached our destination at Utah beach without incident, a few of us visited the museum which provided a great insight into the trials and tribulations of the Normandy campaign, while others opted for an early lunch. Martin made it clear that this wasn’t a guided tour and to do whatever took your fancy. Whatever personal choices were made, the vast scale of the D-day landings and the subsequent Normandy campaign, the acts of heroism and tragic human loss made a huge impression on us all.

The pattern was repeated over the next few days with rides out to Omaha beach (Day 2), Sword beach and Pegasus bridge (Day 3), Gold & Juno beaches incl. a deviation to Bayeux (Day 4), exploration of the British Memorial at Ver sur Mer (Day 5) and a venture further inland to Saint Lo (Day 6), culminating in a rather messy beery finale at Port du Bessin – you’ve probably seen the videos so I’ll say no more! We all racked up a fair few miles with a strong showing in the club’s stats for the week.

The memorials

It’s fair to say that there are a lot of war memorials in Normandy, ranging from statues or plaques, marking particular events or acts of heroism, to full-blown museums giving much wider insight into the Normandy campaign and its relevance to the outcome of WWII. Although all were well worth visiting, I found the following to be the most memorable (see the Hollywood epic, “The Longest Day”, for more details)

  • The museum at Pegasus Bridge: telling the amazing story of the strategic assault on Pegasus Bridge by British Airborne troops in Horsa gliders, which kicked off the D-day invasion
  • The British Memorial: a stunning memorial to the British soldiers who died during the Normandy campaign. At the time of our visit, the site also featured the “Standing with Giants” travelling memorial – 1,475 silhouettes near the beach representing the soldiers who died on the first day of the D-Day invasion and a further 50 silhouettes of the French Resistance in the woods – a truly memorable and thought-provoking spectacle
  • The American cemetery: the huge loss of life that is honoured at a war cemetery always strikes a chord with me and this one was no exception
  • St Mere Eglise: a reconstruction of an American paratrooper suspended from the church spire, highlighting one of the many risks that paratroopers might face.

Memorials such as these will affect us all differently depending on one’s particular take on world affairs and family history. In my case, my father was part of the D-day invasion, landing on Day 2 as a Captain in the Royal Engineers. Visiting the Normandy sites therefore reminded me of the horrors he must have witnessed and of the debt we all owe to his generation. After the war, he joined the Commonwealth War Graves commission and was responsible for building cemeteries in Italy, San Marino and Malta, hence why the American Cemetery was so poignant for me.

The D-day landings have even greater resonance for Simon, since his great uncle, Philippe Keiffer, was the leader of No 4 Commando, consisting of 177 Free French green berets who were instrumental in defeating the German stronghold at the Casino in Ouistreham. Virtually wherever we went we found mention of Keiffer’s exploits – he featured in the introductory film at the Pegasus bridge museum, introduced by HRH (now King) Charles; there was a photo of him being decorated by Field Marshall Montgomery at the American Cemetery; and we visited the street named after him, the “La Flamme” memorial and the No 4 Commando museum in Ouistreham. Although Simon is at pains to point out that Keiffer wasn’t a blood relative, that is still an amazing connection to the events of D-day which helped to bring the trip to life for me. We were also fortunate to meet Keiffer’s daughter Dominique, Simon’s cousin once removed, and her husband Didier who have a house in the area and are still actively involved in the D-day remembrance celebrations each June.

Tour mishaps

In addition to Martin’s close encounter with the patio doors, we also had a few other mishaps on tour (which I am prepared to divulge)

  • Dave’s phone: after returning from a visit to the American cemetery, Dave realised that he’d lost his phone. He contacted his wife in the UK to help, with a view to locating the phone using “Find my Phone”, to be told that a French woman had already found it at the cemetery and contacted her. In true WWII fashion, the woman hid the phone under a pile of leaves on a bench for Dave to collect later – disaster successfully averted.
  • My Oakley’s: similar to Dave’s loss, I got back from the day’s ride and couldn’t find my shades – an expensive pair of Oakleys which were a birthday present last year and I really didn’t want to lose. When Mark advised that I hadn’t been wearing them on the return leg of the ride, I concluded that I must have left them in the museum at Utah beach and could even visualise where they must be. I was just about to contact the museum when said shades turned up inside my helmet – now, who put them there???
  • Tumbles: Simon had at least 2 minor tumbles, but that’s just a standard day at the office for him, so not really worthy of reporting here
  • Tour finale: to mark the end of the tour, we agreed to ride out to Saint Lo, then head to Port en Bassin, a 70-mile round trip, for lunch and a couple of celebratory beers. Simon and I had agreed to meet up with Dominique and Didier and then catch up with the group later. When Simon and I got to Port en Bassin, it was plainly evident that the rest of the group had forgotten the first part of the plan (lunch) and just doubled up on the second part (beer). It’s just as well that we only had a few miles to stagger back to the villa and, in Tom’s inimitable words, “We will get home”, but I think I am correct in stating that club riding etiquette was not strictly observed on the way home. Fortunately, all survived to fight, or ride, another day.

Summary

Everyone agreed that it had been a fantastic trip: the weather was great with only a few short showers, the roads were magnificent and the company was everything you could hope for from a great bunch of lads. We were also extremely well fed and watered. In addition to the customary cheese, wine and pate you would expect on a French trip, we also enjoyed numerous BBQs, c/o Martin & Dave, moules à la Simon, a great take on a classic French dish, and ½ tonne of chilli, c/o me. Whoever said, “the great thing about cycling is that you can eat whatever you like”, clearly didn’t take account of the huge portions we devoured during the week, so my winter training programme may need to start a little earlier than was originally planned.

Apart from the memories of a great week’s cycling, the other thing that will stay with me for some time is a reminder of the huge debt that we owe to those who fought and died 80 years ago to provide the type of lifestyle we all enjoy today.
Mike Biggs, September 2025

Audax in a Nutshell

As many of you know, I (Norman King) enjoy the joys of Audaxing and other long-distance rides. Over the last eight years or so, these have been in the form of sportives, Dunwich, Ride to the Sun, but the majority have been Audaxes. A number of other members take part in long-distance rides, but a great number don’t, and I intend to share my experiences and the reasons why I do them (everyone has different reasons).

My “athletic” background started in running, and I ran my first marathon at 19 — still my fastest at 3 hrs 08 mins — at the RAF Marathon Championships at RAF Swinderby on the flats of Lincolnshire in 1976. Incidentally, one of my warm-up races was the now-defunct Brampton 20, which went around Grafham, with the finish through Buckden.

Thereafter, I ran over 40 marathons (London seven times), ran the Coast to Coast in 1993 with a good friend of mine in 6.5 days (some 196 miles), and also ran the Cyprus Walkabout (80 miles over two days) three times for an RAF station, which involved a lot of navigation (orienteering). I was also a high-standard orienteerer and competed in the KIMM (Karrimor International Mountain Marathon, now OMM) and the SLMM (South Lakes Mountain Marathon). In addition, I participated in two triathlons, but my swimming was poor and I always ended up chasing on the bike and run.

During the majority of this time, I cycled from being a teenager until I was 32 — nothing more than 40 miles — but I could do my work route of 13 miles in 40 minutes (oh, to be young again). Latterly, I joined Riverside Runners and ran for them from 1996 to 2009, until shin splints, dodgy knees, and a bad back stopped me running. I missed it, but after doing a lot of long-distance walking, it took me five years to get back to cycling.

In 2017, when I retired, I had ridden one 100-miler (the good old SNCC Sportive) in a very slow time with my brother and a friend — so slow that everybody had gone home from One Leisure!

Around this time, SNOGs were formed, and I slowly realised I had a “talent” for long-distance riding, in so far as I could ride at the same pace at the start of a long ride and finish at the same, or sometimes a faster, pace. Thus, the seed of long-distance rides was planted. Initially, I satisfied this by riding solo, mainly into the Fens. Then I met Lotty after organising the SNCC 2019 Sportive, along with Chris Preston and Simon Richardson.

Simon and Chris got me into my first Dunwich Dynamo — a ride overnight of over 111 miles — and I loved it. The bug was truly planted. I began to look around at other long-distance rides, and Simon and Lotty both kept mentioning Audaxes. I looked it up and became interested. Then COVID hit.

Around June 2020, Lotty started taking me on 110-mile-plus rides, including a self-made Pathfinder ride she’d created of 155 miles. I wasn’t fast, but I loved it. I recovered quickly and was eager for another. I rode the Round Norfolk 200-mile sportive twice (2023 and 2024) and found no issues with that — it’s a shame the sportive has now ceased to exist.

So, the main purpose of this “story” was Audaxing. I entered my first Audax — not a 100 km (pah, a ride before breakfast!!) but a 200 km (the Horsepower) from Great Dunmow, organised by ACME — and rode it with Lotty. Simon Richardson was also riding, but at a fast pace.

I found it tough. Essentially, it went from Great Dunmow to Snetterton. You had to have mudguards at this event, and I chose to ride my Argon 18 with 50 mm wheels — a mistake. Fast forward to approaching Cottenham at about 110 miles: I had a double puncture, and my spare tube had too short a valve. Various riders came by, but nobody had 80 mm valves. By now it was almost dark, and I told Lotty to crack on. I put out a call to the SNOGs, and Pat very kindly came to get me.

For the rest of 2022, I did Dunwich again with Mike Biggs, Simon Richardson, and Simon Winter, and loved it again. I then attempted my first 300 km, the Rutland Midnight Express, with Simon Richardson. I rode to the start with Simon, but after starting I was “not feeling it” and rode home after 47 miles. Pants. Was I suited to this?

Over the winter, I decided to join Audax. The year’s membership runs from November to October. By now, I was watching lots of YouTube videos on Audaxes, long-distance riding, and tiling (a story for another day). I was still riding long distances but with no plan or method. I resolved to set targets.

In 2022/23, I started with two 100 kms: the Kelvedon Oyster (with Simon Richardson) and the Rutland and Beyond (by myself), and got on well. I then looked for my first 200 km as an Audax member, settled on four that year, and successfully finished them all. I did not complete a 400 km due to constantly getting soaked; myself and a guy called George Alexander abandoned. Surely, I’m made of harder stuff.

My favourite ride of the year was the off-road Old Roads and Drove Roads over Salisbury Plain with Simon Richardson — a great ride and such fun. I finished about 20 minutes after Simon, in the dark. The highlight of the year, though, was Ride to the Sun (I wrote a report on that at the time): a ride of just over 205 miles, with the aim to get to Weston-super-Mare by 21:30. I failed on the time, but I completed the ride. This time, Vince Murray and Simon Richardson were ahead of me; Vince dropped out with heatstroke, and Simon accompanied him to Weston on the train. That was my best achievement of the year, despite riding Round Norfolk in a far quicker and more comfortable way.

Again, in September 2023, I started the Rutland Midnight Express but broke two spokes. Luckily, I was near home and rode back with two broken spokes down the A428 at 1:30 in the morning. I got home, couldn’t get in (no key and no wife answering my phone or doorbell for over 30 minutes), and I was already timed out. Another time!

Over the Christmas/New Year period, I entered a 500 km from Bristol to Cambridge and back to Cambridge. Yet again, I got soaked three times. There were only 15 of us, and I never saw anybody from Oxford onwards. I did ride 143 miles that day, and it was a great lesson in how to cope with the elements. Despite dropping out of a 300 km, 400 km, and 500 km, I felt I was getting the hang of it.

Along came 2023/24. Over the winter, I had agreed with Simon Richardson to enter the 11 Cities Tour in Friesland, Holland — a ride of 147 miles in May 2024. I was upping my training and feeling much more comfortable.

I started my Audax year early, with a 100 km in November and another in January (with Lotty and a friend of hers). My first 200 km was in March from Stevenage, which I found tough but completed in plenty of time. After that came my first Double Dutch, which was pleasing, riding with Simon Richardson, and we averaged well over 15 mph for 200 km.

Then I entered the Cambrian Audax with Gary Stevens. Gary has completed many Audaxes over the years and could, if he wanted, do a lot more long-distance riding (to be fair, he does some impressive mileage). I met Gary twice during the ride: once where he got lost, and then coming up a five-mile climb coming back from Machynlleth, as I was still climbing up from Llanidloes. He was over an hour ahead.

I turned after eating sausage and chips. It had been raining, I got cold, and after starting the climb I got cramp. I had to walk almost two miles, then it eased off and I got to Llanidloes and stopped to eat. I considered retiring — it was 6 pm and I had four hours to ride 45 miles. Gary had finished, and I finished too, but sadly 15 minutes too late to get my points. Still a very pleasing ride, but another lesson learnt.

I rode the 11 Cities Tour with a good average and had a great ride with Simon — I’d highly recommend this event. I then rode another 200 km in June and started a 600 km Audax, where I had to stop at 147 miles with “hot foot”. I booked into a Travelodge and slept. I was timed out, but still cycled over 90 miles back to St Neots the next day, so not bad. Then I lost five weeks to a knee injury.

I still completed two more Audaxes: the Rutland Midnight Express at the third attempt, and my first 300 km. The last event was a 180 km off-road Audax with Simon again — great fun. I finished in the dark (it was October) with one minute to spare.

So, another year — 2025 — was coming upon us. I signed up for LEL in August 2025 (London–Edinburgh–London), kept training through the winter, and kept my mileage high. I started out with a number of 200 kms from January onwards, and when I was confirmed for LEL, I entered two 100 kms — one in Teesside and the other in the Dark Peaks — all good training for LEL.

In early May, I started a 400 km. By the time I left Portland Bill, I was running close to time. I wasn’t on form, and about 9 pm I headed back to the start. A disappointing event for me, but I was happy with the kit, the food, and the drinking. I did two more 200 kms, as well as the 11 Cities Tour with Simon again — really quick again. I also did the Dunwich; I rode there with the intention of cycling home. By Sunday 7 am, I had finished but chose to ride to Stowmarket with Mike Biggs and his son and took the train home. A 210-mile ride, and I felt OK — I could have gone further. I was recovered in a couple of days, which was good for my training.

So, what now? LEL runs from August 3rd to August 8th. Max Honey is also in the event — 957 miles in 125 hours. Will I complete it? Yes. In time? I don’t know. But I’ve prepared. I have the bike ready, know my sleeping strategy, drinking routine, planned stops, and I’ll be riding with three others as well, which will help. Look out for more on that event.

After LEL: sleep, put the bike in the garage, eat cake and sausage rolls!

What have I learnt? Enjoy it. No faffing — in and out of the controls whilst eating and drinking. Have the right bike that you can ride all day. Have kit you can ride in all day (or days).

I highly enjoy the challenge, the navigation (OK, we have a route to follow), the controls — both brevet card and eBrevet (the app) — seeing different places, meeting new people, and the various cafés and pubs.

See you on the road soon. 🚴‍♂️

Peak District Report

We had a fantastic weekend in the Peaks from 13 to 15 Sept 2024. Five of us took in over 150 miles of riding over the 3 days.

The 90 miler (and 8500 feet of climbing!) Saturday was probably the most beautiful ride I’ve ever done: it was the very best that the Peaks have to offer. We also ticked off some serious climbs, including Strines, the Cat & Fiddle and Holme Moss. Great group, great riding. Next year I’m looking into South Snowdonia, including the infamous Bwlch y Groes.

When the secret 7 turned into the famous 5…

A report about the off-road Thetford to Castle Acre off-road ride in September 2024, and over 36km.

Read more