This ride offered me a chance to revisit an area I had known a long time ago, and although a flat ride across the plains of sunny Englandshire seemed quite a manageable excursion, I did harbour some concerns about navigation in places where there were numerous other possible roads in addition to the required one. I put some effort into memorising the route back from the A1, well aware that I would be doing at least some of it in the dark on my own. After a night in some local accommodation I rode a chilly mile uphill to the start to register, pick up my card, and curse somewhat at the route change to avoid a road closure by the A1. On going back outside to do whatever it is that audaxists do in the immediate moments before a ride begins I spotted a distinct lack of water bottles on my bike. At 8:50 I left in a bit of a flap back down the hill in the direction of my water bottles. I had visions of setting off 10 minutes after everybody else had left, and pedalling the entire ride without seeing a single other person, save perhaps for a shop keeper at the controls, and a very weary controller at the end.
And so it came to pass that at 8:02 I was once again grinding my way up the hill towards the traffic lights where I would turn off towards the start when I saw riders going through the lights. There were a few going through every time the lights changed, and so I didn’t feel any shame in just carrying straight on through as I got there. I tried to catch up with the riders in front as the road turned into a maximum speed dual carriageway descent. Having made it off the big road without seeing many cars the route climbed steadily through a few villages near the M1 and it seemed that I reached Retford pretty easily and quickly with a bit of a tailwind. I had ridden much of the way with a small group, although the whole way to the first control there seemed to be a trail of riders.
I left the café fairly swiftly after a quick mug of tea with some egg and beans. It was from this point on, to at least as far as Bawtry, that I ought to be familiar with the route. I’d spotted Haxey water tower before reaching Misterton, but the route turned off before the chippy. The route followed the Trent bank along the Eastern perimeter of the Isle. Whilst the levee seems smaller than it did years ago, it’s still the case that you never actually get to see the river from the road, and horse riders would almost always ride along the top to get a bit of a view. The tail wind made it easy rolling right the way past Keadby bridge and deep into the North Isle, even as a former Axholmian, and one who has cycled over Keadby bridge more times than I care to remember this part of the ride really did have the feeling of being in bandit country, hanging on at the edge of the world. The area really does have an odd feeling of remoteness that’s quite at odds with somewhere lying between Donny and Scunny.
The half-way point offered a chance to paddle through a bit of mud, and top up with water, but I didn’t stop long, such was my eagerness to see the sights of Beltoft and Epworth. The wind was noticeably unfavourable, but somewhere along the road I had the good fortune to be overtaken by a Scunny bound E-biker. He was making a fine speed despite his big tyres and there was no way that I could resist tucking in behind. Another fellow tagged along too, but I assume that all of the others we passed on the way towards Keadby bridge either felt it not to be in the spirit of Audaxing, or were rather too taken by surprise. He turned off to cross the river as I headed off back along the bank. Somewhere around Althorpe I stopped to take a moment to climb the levee and see the river.
Leaving the river and crossing the motorway led back to the relative safety and civilisation of the South, and on into Epworth. A quick stop at the Co-op and straight over the High Street took me past Ian Botham’s old house, and back onto the Gainsborough road at the top of the hill. Everything seemed pretty familiar as I went down past the donkeys and then up past the mill to Haxey. The hill over to Westwoodside seemed a lot smaller than I remembered and I was soon on the familiar Donny road. The turn off to Misson was a relief from the busier main road and I pushed on to leave the Isle for Bawtry, where there was a bit of a change of scenery.
I headed out of Bawtry with another couple of riders who seemed confident that they knew the diversion, and although I fell behind them I did manage to make it back onto the original route, along the short dual carriageway section which actually turned out not to be scary at all, and onwards to Shireoaks. Leaving Shireoaks the ride seemed to take on a slightly different character again and I had a short stop for some spiritual refreshment enjoying the late afternoon sunshine not long after the control. I had fretted about navigating the latter parts of the ride to the extent that I drove into Alfreton by the route that the ride took for the last stages. I’m not sure that it was necessary but it certainly meant that I could relax and enjoy the riding, rather than needing to stop to check either the route instructions or the map.
It was the last stage of the ride that I enjoyed the most, riding through lanes I didn’t know, and would never have found without the route instructions. I don’t doubt, however, that this was helped in no small part by the mild and sunny weather. The run through Oxcroft, and the lane past Hardwick Hall were real highlights, but there were lots of quiet and pleasant lanes. Even the run through the villages that we had ridden though on the way out was pretty much downhill all the way, and a not too bad cycle path lead up the final hill to the finish. I was grateful of a mug of tea at the Arrive, but I was even more grateful that it was downhill virtually all the way to my lodgings.
I’m still not entirely sure what it is that audaxists do in the immediate moments before a ride begins though.
