Good ride for me too. The exit from London being truly SuperSpeedy - not so much from velocity as the failure of the traffic lights to break up the compact group and hence little need of re-grouping. Brentwood always provides some splendid sights for us ageing voyeurs ... funny never any pictures of ...
And onto the best bit of the ride for me. A brisk but not too fast cruise through the delightful Essex lanes to Maldon. The moon lit up a beautiful sky and Jupiter (so I was told) played a bright distant cousin not too may parsecs away.
After Tescos we entered the dark edge of Essex and Tolleshunt after Tolleshunt. The pace quickened, and quickened again. I suddenly found myself trailing what I thought was the main group. Indeed I mistakenly thought I was behind the TECs and in danger of being lost in the marshes. I speeded up but as I was about to catch the group they must have looked round and thought my animation must be rabid and pushed harder. On and on it went - almost catching, falling back and pushing hard again until Mersea Island.
I can't say I enjoyed that bit but I've never ridden as hard for so long and that gave me satisfaction. Sadly my computer went on the blink so I will never know quite what I did.
The landing craft crossing was all you expect of adventure at dawn in a other wordly maritime paradigm. And on to Harwich. First the good news. Basil Fawlty is alive, well and managing the Pier Hotel. The Pier Cafe triumphed in a Pythonesque manner. Every chair and table has its appointed place and woe betide any mere cyclists trying to be helpful ... Food was eaten. Tea & Coffee was drunk and little else which in itself makes this ride unique.
Except the company without which one could never achieve what 18 months ago I would have thought impossible. Not that I'm going to sign up on the London-Harwich-London ride next year. For me that is a tad too much but chapeau for those that can enjoy it.
And onto the best bit of the ride for me. A brisk but not too fast cruise through the delightful Essex lanes to Maldon. The moon lit up a beautiful sky and Jupiter (so I was told) played a bright distant cousin not too may parsecs away.
After Tescos we entered the dark edge of Essex and Tolleshunt after Tolleshunt. The pace quickened, and quickened again. I suddenly found myself trailing what I thought was the main group. Indeed I mistakenly thought I was behind the TECs and in danger of being lost in the marshes. I speeded up but as I was about to catch the group they must have looked round and thought my animation must be rabid and pushed harder. On and on it went - almost catching, falling back and pushing hard again until Mersea Island.
I can't say I enjoyed that bit but I've never ridden as hard for so long and that gave me satisfaction. Sadly my computer went on the blink so I will never know quite what I did.
The landing craft crossing was all you expect of adventure at dawn in a other wordly maritime paradigm. And on to Harwich. First the good news. Basil Fawlty is alive, well and managing the Pier Hotel. The Pier Cafe triumphed in a Pythonesque manner. Every chair and table has its appointed place and woe betide any mere cyclists trying to be helpful ... Food was eaten. Tea & Coffee was drunk and little else which in itself makes this ride unique.
Except the company without which one could never achieve what 18 months ago I would have thought impossible. Not that I'm going to sign up on the London-Harwich-London ride next year. For me that is a tad too much but chapeau for those that can enjoy it.
202 miles in 14 hours 8 mins for stattos everywhere - the return pace was just..."Have I told you about the headwind?"
Simon, red bar tape. Just don't be tempted to get red tyres
