To save energy for the slog to Brighton, I thought I might drop off my bike at Brian’s the day before. I wasn’t expecting to be out-foxed by a couple of presta valves and a cheap pump, but apparently that’s all it takes. I was about an hour late... Luckily Brian’s daughter ( Delilah?) was in to let me lock the bike securely away for the night.
Getting up at the crack of dawn for a bike ride is often a very pleasant thing to do. Fresh morning air, other cyclists, joggers and dog walkers saying hi. Don’t do it the night the clocks change and then get a tube across London. All I got was a gnawing sense I should still be in bed, and the look of grim confirmation from my fellow early risers.
After a lovely breakfast (thanks Miss S) I set off for Brixton. A bit of banter another attempt to fill the tyres and we were off. The stage out of London is the second hardest bit of the day (more of which later). At one very early stage I realised that a hill had tested my physical abilities to the max, or so I thought.
Once in the countryside we had a good couple of hours of beautiful scenery and nice riding. We stopped for some of Brian’s oddly flavoured aniseed-salt-pepper sweets and some photos, and off again. We agreed to stop for a bite to eat around one O’clock, and passed scenic pub after scenic pub, only to find by one they had all but vanished from the surrounding area. A quick stop in Hayward’s Heath revealed it to be a vacuum both culturally and culinarily... so onward.
We stopped a little later to get a masterclass from Ken on how to change an innertube by the roadside, which I had a perfect view of as I patched the old tube while the other three struggled with the tyre.
An overpriced, but delicious sandwich and a coke later and we set off to ride up the devil’s own hill. Two cyclists passing by, stopped and asked us where the ditchling beacon was. Brian replied it was that thing blocking out the horizon... he was right. It is a monster. A green monster.
Great view from the top, and for me from the path as I had to walk up. The hill I thought had defeated me earlier was just one hill of many that I managed later in the day. Don't panic relax and keep pedalling.
A fast cruise into Brighton and the bizarre feeling of being back in the traffic again. Warren picked up a puncture at this point. Tickets. A quick Peek at the sea and the train home.
I was able to ride back from London Bridge, and as I got to the hill before my road, which only months ago I found a difficult climb, I smiled. Even tired this was going to be no problem.
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