We're back in Guildford now, after turning a straightforward overnight ride into the first leg of an expedition - which very nearly didn't happen, and was rescued by
Evans in Guildford. As we were fiddling with the stoker seatpost to make sure it was at the right height (it and the saddle are both new, and fortunately are doing their stuff) the clamp bolt sheared right through. There's something a bit iffy about Thorn's design - the captain's seatpost clamp has two bolts, while the stoker makes do with one, which needs to be done up so tightly that the steel begins to bend.
After a fair amount of faffing, and trying to find other bolts on the bike which would do (the headset clamp was the nearest match), I discovered that Evans was open till late and hared round on my Brompton. The very efficient workshop found a matching, but longer, bolt, and cut it down to the right size - all without taking payment.
Like others, I like the South Bank start - and not just because it's convenient for Waterloo station. A small peleton gathered by the caffe Nero stall, including three riders with much more luggage than us. I should point out to CoG and TC that if they'd followed us down the cab road rather than going in search of more exciting opportunities they'd not have ended up underneath the wrong arches...
Others have written of the ride. There is something odd about riding through the industrial wastelands of south-east London for hours, and for me I'm not sure the occasional highlight (the Dartford bridge, the Royal Naval College) quite makes up for the endless concrete. Out of London, the towns become more attractive.
Some more random highlights: the English Martyrs, Strood, with its completely random concrete apsidal features that only the Catholics could put up with. A skylark at 3:30am in the dark. The marshes - eery and chilly in the easterly drizzle.
That wind wasn't pleasant - and speaking of which, here's Friday night's theme song.
Westron wind, when will thou blow?
The small rain down can rain.
Christ, if my love were in my arms,
And I in my bed again.
http://www.luminarium.org/medlit/medlyric/westron.php
I'm afraid we weren't very sociable at the end - extreme tiredness, dampness and cold rather enhances my natural introversion. I'd made the mistake of not putting on my showerproof top, so my jumper was damp and therefore ineffective. I was just about coming back to life (fortified by a pint of mild) when the main station group left, so we changed into civvies and persuaded the Continental Hotel to look after our luggage and bike (bike rack a bit public for comfort) before mooching around a very lovely little town for the morning.
As far as I can tell a lot of it (beach, brewery, venue, hotel, cottages) is owned by the oyster fishery company, which has probably helped its preservation. It has a lot of little gems, including an attractive art deco Wetherspoons cinema conversion (good pint of Whistable oyster stout). Our room came available at 2pm and we slept the sleep of the just for a couple of hours before being woken up by watery sun and finding some food.
On Sunday we started a lot later than we'd planned (which raises a question about early starts on the way north), and failed to find the Crab and Winkle Way out of town. Instead we blatted down the A road to Canterbury before climbing up through the hills and down to the levels. Miserable drizzle kept us from going all the way to Dungeness, but it was beginning to brighten up by the time we started going through the hills up to Ticehurst - 72 miles in all for the day.
After a night at the Bell hotel (an extremely large steak which didn't help me sleep - another lesson to learn) we set out westwards. 60 miles later, of which 15 were on unsurfaced cycle tracks, we were back in Guildford. An almost incident-free day, apart from the unthinkable - a punctured Marathon plus at Ewhurst. A quarter-inch chip of brick had embedded itself in the tyre and made its way through to the tube. It had completely hidden itself inside the rubber and had to be dug out with a screwdriver - the sort of thing which would have gone straight through any lesser tyre.
Overall it was a successful few days. The weather could have been better (I don't like wearing longs and overshoes in June), but we proved to ourselves that we could do successive long days, given enough breaks during them. And of course, in a couple of weeks, we will have the light bike (a stone lighter in the bike, a stone lighter in the luggage).
The ride back was as hard as you'd think it would be! 
- not good.
What was it, a 'Trek'?
