Rode this with Sam from work and Ed, a former colleague who retired a couple of years ago. Sam on 49 x 18 fixed, Ed on a carbon racing bike, me on the Harry Quinn track bike (47 x 18), which is, like me, in its 50th year. Hadn't done it for seven years, so I 'm a fair bit older and wasn't really sure how this was going to go.
We started from the pub and then walked around the corner for an espresso at Costa. Then we did the usual main road route to join up with the Lea Bridge Road and avoid the awful "official" route. That new cyclepath is crap (although mercifully clear of glass, at this point in its life) - cars turning across the side roads caused problems and, of course, cyclists keep losing priority. A lot of aggro from motons where people had decided to use the road instead - cycle farcilities give them the justification they need to try and push people off the road. Was glad when the path finished and we could get into some sort of steady rhythm. My water bottles kept ejecting themselves on bumps and I had to retrieve one from the wrong side of the A104 just after the North Circular roundabout, where the cattle grid launched one at great speed. Bent the cages to hold them better, which then snapped the cages, so I was having to reach back and check they were still secure every mile or so. Hanging them off the back of the saddle turns out to be a sub-optimal position for security but my track bike obviously has no bottle bosses, because you don't have bottles on a velodrome.
Got a shout of "you cunts!" from a driver through Epping Forest and an overtaking Audi almost had a head-on collision with a car coming the other way. All par for the course. 60-70rpm slow through the forest as it wasn't safe to overtake, and nasty chipseal surface. Also very slow down the hill into North Weald Bassett - someone at the front must have had the brakes on all the way. When it's too slow downhill for a fixie, it's really slow.
Took the Bovinger diversion after NWB and had the traditional first pee stop at the field. Saw no-one else this year - it's a fairly well-known road to avoid the terrible pinch point of the official route so we thought numbers must be down. Joined up again at Moreton but now it was possible to pass people with safety, so we started to speed up. The Roman road through the Rodings was nice as the fixed gear started to come into its own (apply a bit of power on the ups, let it take your legs and flush out the lactic acid on the downs), and the headwind wasn't noticeable. Some utter nobber shouted "Elite coming through!" from behind and we almost crashed laughing. Saw the chap at Dunmow waiting with his stripy track pump.
We did the next bit really fast as the riders had started to thin out a lot (at every pub, we lost several people). Stormed the hill in Finchingfield as usual, using momentum rather than gears. The moon came out. Massive haystack fire between Castle Hedingham and Sudbury. We pulled in so Sam could check a noise from his bike (probably a bit of gravel going round the mudguard) and a load of cars had pulled in at the same lay-by to look at the fire.
Got into Sudbury and Torque Bikes fitted two new bottle cages to my bike. Sam and Ed went on to the fire station and I walked around there with the bike in one hand and a coffee in the other. made friend with a nice little ticked tabby cat on the way. Fire station stop was well-organised although I couldn't understand the queue for the gents' lavs, when all of Suffolk was out there waiting to be desecrated. Put cap, arm and knee warmers on. Finished first flapjack and ate half the second one.
Some local protesters had put drawing pins down at Little Waldingfield but they'd been picked up by the first unfortunate group to encounter them at about 2330 and we went through an hour later. A camper van followed us respectfully all the way to Bildeston. I felt bad for the driver as the twats in front continued to occupy the whole width of the road for almost 10 miles. A vole darted out amongst the tyres but escaped.
Really thinned out over the Wattisham plateau. Dropped into Needham Market and stopped at the lakes, where the only fare was espresso and/or sausages. More coffee. Lost even more riders on the next bit, as they missed turns. There's no telling them, either. Warmed up briefly at Gosbeck village hall where Sam wanted a cup of tea (unavailable at the lakes) and I wanted a massage, but couldn't get one. It was nice to get out of the night air for 20 minutes, though.
Large group from Gosbeck to Helmingham but we were the only ones to take the Framsden turn. Enjoy the A1120, guys
Really quiet now, only occasionally passing or being passed. Saw a couple of race-fit guys from the Swindon coach on the hill at Cretingham. Stopped at the Framlingham bus shelter thingy while Ed tightened his STI lever, and chatted to a couple on a tandem who were suffering a bit. I still felt fresh and (for the first time on this ride) wasn't cramping up. It's not about the bike, it's about the caffeine and the enitre packet of salty pretzels I ate beforehand.
The Bruisyard lane was gravelly and a bit buttock-clenching in places if you only had a front brake, and so was the Sibton Green climb. Stopped at the Dunwich 7 sign for a photo, then went at those 7 miles full tilt. Bottle ejected itself just before the Dunwich sign when I hit a monster pothole, but we needed a pee anyway. Rode in and dipped wheels in the sea.
For me, this was the easiest one yet, and the only one where I've finished feeling capable of riding further. Light bike, fixed gear, lots of salt intake beforehand, lots of coffee. What would put me off returning are that Lea Valley cyclepath and the increasing hostility of locals. Ironically, the Essex residents - "you cunts!" aside - are the ones that turn out and high-five you, whereas the Suffolk residents are the ones that whinge about noise and bad behaviour on Facebook* and mine the road with pins. I suppose it's the early hours in Suffolk and they're not used to any passing traffic in the night. Depressing to see gel wrappers thrown on the road, though - I know they're nasty and sticky to put back in your pocket so EAT SOMETHING ELSE, you twats.
*some very hard to believe. One lady claims 20 riders all turned up at the same time and pissed in her front garden. I can't really understand this, since she'd need (a) a massive front garden and (b) it must have been shaped like a massive urinal, with a hand drier and free soap, to make it more attractive than the miles and miles of empty countryside. Another claims the noise of riders talking made her dog shit all over the house. I don't think passing cars are any quieter.
