Tag Archive for: Audax

Double Dutch 2025

Many of you will know that in June last year I took part in the Manchester 2 London ride supported by Rapha to raise funds for Ambitious About Autism. [This is a cause very close to Simon Mottram, Rapha’s founder, who has a severely autistic son.] The ride itself was 220 miles from central Manchester to Rapha’s HQ in Archway, London, passing through the south Peak District, with 4 feeds stops including The Hub and Spoke Cafe, Dunstable (where I was very well looked after) and The Sharpenhoe Clappers before the final run-in through North London.

I was asked by someone why I was taking in part . I would have liked to say that the cause was close to my heart but the truth is, it isn’t.  I can possibly say that about all charity events – I’m happy to help raise funds whatever the cause because they are noble, provide help and support to those who need it, and cast cycling in a positive light. So why this event?  Well, I spend a lot of time riding a bike for no other purpose than to benefit of my own mental and physical health.  Reason enough, but it feels right that sometimes the somewhat selfishness of hours pedalling solo has a greater purpose and wider benefit. And 220 miles in a day was at the limit of what I thought I might be capable of and provide a focus to my day-to-day training.

Training which needed some long rides.

Roll back two months and I’m in a car park in Huntingdon, having joined Richard Slade, Tom Stead, Simon Winter and Ed Hemms to the ride up from the Market Square, surrounded by a crowd of other cyclists of all flavours on a variety of different bicycles.  This was the start (the first control) of the Double Dutch Audax to Kings Lynn and back.  My first Audax.

I will be the first to admit that I am not immediately enthusiastic about Audax events.

You mustn’t ride too fast, you can’t ride too slow.

I get it – the checkpoints can only be open for a certain amount of time, but it goes against a deeply ingrained sense of competition.  Sure, try harder, dig in, grit yer teeth when riding into a headwind (to arrive at a checkpoint before it closes) but putting the brakes on, or stopping to rest, when you’re enjoying a taliwind or one of those all too rare days when with glass cranks when pedalling is effortless, to avoid arriving at a checkpoint early, seems a shame.  Even more so when eBrevet means that no card is stamped so checkpoints can now be open 24 hours.

But I am respectful of the traditions of cycling and am not a fan of the cycling-by-numbers that has pervaded the sport. I prefer riding on feel not a maintaining the number displayed on my head unit. Using the data (heart rate and speed) as a guide not a master.  I like that you can still carry a Brevet card and a pencil to have it marked when you reach a checkpoint.  I’d revert to paper maps but I am a fan of being able to look down and see the dotted line of the route displayed in limited colour on the screen attached to my handlebars.

The thing is, my reticence for an Audax isn’t logical.

I’d love to ride Paris-Brest-Paris.  It’s an Audax!

But to me it’s so much more than that. It has a history as a race and is now an amazing spectacle of cycling. I imagine it’s a truly enjoyable and unforgettable experience. But to ride it you have to qualify, completing a series of specified Audax distances in the a predefined period prior to the event.

When we were at the Dales Weekend last year, the Bike Centre was the most northerly checkpoint for an Audax event from somewhere a long way south and back, over lots of hills and by far from the most direct route. Cyclists were arriving late; cold, wet and tired, setting up make shift camps in bivvy bags at the side of the car park, as we came back from the pub, and I thought ‘that looks like fun!’

I’m no longer a spritely road or track racer but coming back to cycling in my early 50s, after a mid-life break to deal with mid-life stuff, I’ve regained some of my youthful fitness.  But I’ve been re-tuned from supercharged V8 petrol to a turbocharged V12 diesel. Maybe just a V6 diesel with economy features!  I can ride reasonably quickly for a long time and I have the experience of knowing when and how to save energy and when to expend it.

In the past, I was always training for the next race, training to beat everyone else to the line.  Maybe it’s a sign of aging, an acceptance that my racing days are behind me, or maybe it’s the result of shift in cycling generally. Competition isn’t just about the race – you can compare against others, but you can also compete against the terrain, the weather, the gradients, the distance, yourself and what you think you are capable of.  And cycling is much more than the Tour de France, the Monuments, and the televised races of the pro-ranks.

On a bicycle we can go further than travelling on foot, we can reach places we can’t in a car, and we are more connected with the environment.

The bike is simply the best tool for spending time outside.*

And, as I discovered, an Audax is great way to spend time on a bike.  We set off as a group of five into a headwind.  We caught/or got caught by a huge group of riders from St Ives CC and rode as a peloton into the headwind. Got dropped when stopping for a natural break. Chased back on, sat in, recovered. The group split at a Greggs somewhere on the flatlands (Chatteris, March, Wisbech?) We stopped for a bacon sandwich in Kings Lynn (I won’t be ordering one of those again mid-ride!) Ed phaffed with a rubbing disk rotor, and there was possibly a puncture.  We sped past technicolour tulip fields.  Hammered along poor roads running alongside a dyke enjoying a terrific tailwind. And stopped in Ely where Ed demonstrated the rejuvenating power of Coca-Cola.  The last section of the ride I remember was the super smooth path alongside the guided busway back to St Ives, then back to the final checkpoint at Wetherspoons in Huntingdon.

My first Audax, 200km. Done.

Except that it was only then I discovered that eBrevet is not automatic.  You do have to stop at the checkpoints, and digitally stamp your Brevet card.  We did this at the first one but rode through all the others.

We hadn’t officially completed the ride and we couldn’t collect our badge.

Ah well. You’ll probably find me in the car park in Huntingdon on 4th April 2026 for the Double Dutch 2026. This time with a pencil and perhaps I’ll take the time to stop at the checkpoints.

*Dan Pettit/Albion

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.

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.

 

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. 🚴‍♂️