Shine Brighton you Crazy Diamond

[benconnolli]

For a while now I have dreamed of riding off into the sunset and right through into sunrise. The usual excuses kept raising their heads and other bike trips happened instead. This all changed two weeks ago in the blasting sun when I mentioned I wished I was eating an ice-cream at the beach. Obviously I would cycle there. I also felt that riding into the sunrise had to be going East, going through London is just nasty, so I settled on Brighton. I have kept trying to see where my limits are, but found that with sleeping gear it has always been too easy to bail at bedtime when I know there is more in the tank. I guess this isn’t a bikepacking trip then, just a night ride.

I landmarked a food stop halfway and scoped out a 24hr cafe at the end, chucked it at google maps, then decided the route really didn’t matter that much as it would be dark and quiet regardless. Some extremely poor logistics during my effort of the Trans Cambrian Way last week had left my A team cycling kit, including waterproof, in York. With a forecast of heavy rain through most of Friday night I decided it was best to postpone. Doing a run to the shops straight from work I realised two things; the only issue with getting wet is getting wet and cold, and that this is warm rain. The plan was back in action. Cap to keep the rain out of my eyes, bread bags to keep my toes toasty, windproof to stop me getting cold, Kendle mint cake shaped emergency first aid kit, I was as ready as I would ever be.

The first hour was the same as my go to road loop, splitting from that route I felt like Sam making his first step outside the Shire on his adventure. I was giddy with excitement as I gripped the bars and ploughed through puddles, laughing in the face of this foul weather. Passed Swindon’s “Magic Roundabout” which is 5 mini roundabouts around one larger one like some kind of silly traffic flower. Had a flash of foolishness vision of me blasting straight through the middle getting air to a cacophony of horns, then decided better not, so took to the pavement. Found a nice escape from Swindon through Coate water park then this fantastic bike sized helter skelter over the M4.

I was on my Grandad’s Reynolds 531 touring bike so, inspired by the Rough Stuff Fellowship, was not shy going off road. The track to Sutton Scotney had clearly drunk well in the recent rain and was especially squirmy. That midnight maccies had a right mix of people; me splattered in mud, teenage kids play arguing to wind their dad up, then a couple who had clearly hooked up at a wedding on their first date. I was a long way from home now. With everything between here and my destination closed, the only thing to do was to ride my bike. So ride it I did.

Not long after leaving the heavy rain hit. This was not the warm blobs from my commute, this was fully committed wetness from the sky. Too wet to get directions from my phone, too cold to stop and think, I just rode on, relying on my mental compass which was characteristically awful. Looking back there was nothing pleasant about this few hours, but I remember a twisted grin smeared over my face. Life was painfully simple. This was exactly what I had signed up for. I hadn’t felt this alive in a long time.

Cycling through the night gives you a newfound appreciation of the rest of your senses. The peaceful whurr of my chain, the wind rushing past my face, the vibration from the road through my bike and into my body, the tiny starbursts of water flicked up from my wheel and illuminated by my light. I truly was at the centre of my universe, all that mattered was the next ten meters, the next rotation of the pedals.

What I lacked in beautiful vistas I made up for in wildlife. I chased a fox down the road, sent a badger into a hedge with a gruff bark, almost batted a barn owl, dodged a deer, swerved a hedgehog, sent several mice scurrying, disturbed a few of these stumpy deer like beasts, but the recurring animal was frogs. They were loving the rain. Just sitting out in the middle of the road not camouflaged at all but acting like they were. The frogstable course was equally deadly for me and the frogs as I swerved at the last second, the empty roads gave me plenty of space for it at least and everyone survived to tell the tale.

I distinctly remember the first hint that the night was ending. I noticed the silhouette of a tunnel I had just been in against the sky. It was no longer complete darkness. This hope grew slowly as I dashed through canopies of trees then burst out into the open and was able to make out the shape of something more that 20m away. Now without any landmarks, or garmin flashing at you my only indication of time through the night had been pedal strokes and villages. This all changed now. After that initial injection of light, and energy with it, I slumped. It was like the sunrise was my internal finish line and my body didn’t care that I had 30km til breakfast.

I firmly believe that anything over four hours exercise becomes just as much of a mental challenge as a physical one. Night rides naturally split into three parts, light, dark, then light again. This had the extra section of dark heavy rain, throw in a handful of spicy gravel sections, and the mental task became manageable. Having ridden similar distance with much more climbing, I was pretty confident that my body could handle the ride, but riding on no sleep and the mental strains from that was unknown. The distractions, the adrenaline of an adventure, and my stubborn defiance pulled me through.

The end was an anticlimax. There was nobody to cheer me home, there was nobody about at all. I could think of nothing worse than stripping my kit off and going for a swim. I had a full breakfast and warm cup of tea then got the train home. It had always been about the journey and what a journey that was.

[fatbikephil]

I'll be first in a doubtless long list of people to say well done and a top tale!

[Bearbonesnorm]

Oh yes, there is something very special about riding through the night and emerging on the other side - I've never not enjoyed it even when it's been sh1te

[ScotRoutes]

Superb.

Cycling through the night gives you a newfound appreciation of the rest of your senses. The peaceful whurr of my chain, the wind rushing past my face, the vibration from the road through my bike and into my body, the tiny starbursts of water flicked up from my wheel and illuminated by my light. I truly was at the centre of my universe, all that mattered was the next ten meters, the next rotation of the pedals.

What I lacked in beautiful vistas I made up for in wildlife. I chased a fox down the road, sent a badger into a hedge with a gruff bark, almost batted a barn owl, dodged a deer, swerved a hedgehog, sent several mice scurrying, disturbed a few of these stumpy deer like beasts, but the recurring animal was frogs. They were loving the rain. Just sitting out in the middle of the road not camouflaged at all but acting like they were. The frogstable course was equally deadly for me and the frogs as I swerved at the last second, the empty roads gave me plenty of space for it at least and everyone survived to tell the tale.

I recognise almost all of this and have had my own weird night time encounters.

[RIP]

Yep, superb Ben. We don't hear from you very often but when we do it's absolutely worth waiting for. A corkingly off-the-wall escapade as usual and one doffs one's hat (helmet?) to you. I think "doffing" is definitely a word that would be heard regularly on an RSF outing Curiously, I too LURVE night rides despite not thinking I can manage stuff like RTTS. Even better if it's a winter night ride. In fact, just this second got back home from a somewhat shorter night-ride, also off-the-wall in its own way - nowhere near as epic as yours but I'll bung it over in "Today's [Tonight's?] Ride".

Nice one chap

[benconnolli]

Wow thanks for all the enthusiasm. Glad it could be enjoyed once the wheels stopped spinning.

Appreciate the doff Reg. The riding time through the night this time of year only needs to be 6 hours, then fit Friday and Saturday sleeps into Saturday. Definitely possible. Late December would be a whole different kettle of fish. Now I think about it, I have a winter solstice dawn-dusk-dawn on the back burner in my scattered plan department.

I go on little bike trips out almost every other weekend, but keep most for myself in my journal. I’m very aware of the “do it for the ‘gram” attitude and want to keep the motivation for riding my bike completely for myself. It has also felt unsatisfactory when I’ve been on a great trip, but then can’t convey what was so good about it in words. This left me with the feeling that the trip can’t have been great because I couldn’t tell people how great it was, even though it was great. Just part of me taking control of my life

[gairym]

Really enjoyed that write-up, perfectly captured the highs/lows/silliness of riding a bike all night - chapeau!

[In Reverse]

Great stuff Ben. I think you're my favourite story-teller on here.