I enjoyed the Brimstone. I started off with HughKnud from my Easter Arrow team but it was clear that he and a few others had climbing legs likes ones I've never had and to follow would be to reach Beaminster with two pieces of jelly attached to my hips and a hunger knock the size of Big Ben, so I settled back into the other half of the front group that had led out of Poole. This group of four stayed together for the whole event, which is always much more fun. Hills came and went, the sun broke through, the scenery was brilliant. I didn't notice anything untoward at Crockerton, but its a timely reminder to always be polite and careful. I found myself muddling up bits of route from the Hard Boiled and the Brimstone in my head which led to a little bit of uncertain navigation, there must be an appropriate phrase for this as I am sure an 'attack of the Dorsets' has probably been appropriated for something else.
There was a decent head wind to Exmouth so I decided to battle against it until it got tired, which it duly did when we reached the turn, so it had no energy to blow us back, but before that we all those exceptional hills: long and seventy changes of gradient out of Beaminster, steep in the town so everyone can see how slowly you ride in Charmouth, one hill and four changes of road in Lyme Regis (no chance of getting a run up, Chris), long horrible and headwinds at the top in Colyton, and finally Peak Hill in Sidmouth to put fear into the hearts of those from 'up north' when it gets used for the National Hill Climb championship. At least I'd ordered an omelette and chips in Beaminster.
I usually hang out at the Tesco petrol station in Exmouth, but Sarah suggested going to main store, which proved to be a stroke of genius, not because of the greater range of food but because we could sit in the sunshine rather than the rather chilly wind tunnel by the petrol station. The next section was truly Wessex, threading through lanes that look like they have no right to exist, threading their way inexorably to the summit of the Blackdown Hills, and a magnificent sunset between the trees. We were all still in good form as we worked our way to Taunton Deane services.
I should have gone to McDonalds rather than venturing the tuna and cheese melt from Costa coffee, which was truly horrid. Having not eaten enough the next stage was a struggle. (When asked what the hardest bit of this ride is, I always say the Somerset levels) and we crawled across to Draycott, taking over 3 1/2 hours for the stage. Chris and Sarah had husband and wife rivalry to get themselves up Draycott. Neil and I had no such inspiration and so we got to the extra-stupidly-steep bit half way up and stopped. I was so confused that I though Neil was Chris and referred to him that way all the way to Priddy (and didn't know until he corrected me at the finish).
The volunteers at Priddy did an exceptional job. I had a bowl of peaches and rice before sleeping. Having got cooked on the way up Draycott my clothes were wet with sweat and after an hours sleep, I got cold. I got up and ate some breakfast but my group were all asleep. Someone lent me a sleeping bag and I got a second hour of exceptional sleep and was bright and ready to go at 6.30am.
We wended our way through the Mendips and soon had to take a layer off. Given how humid it was I went down to shorts and a short sleeved top (which was my rig for 7 of the 9 stages). Last time I did this section it was with a vicious tummy bug courtesy of cows##t near Sherborne. So it was great to spin round the lanes without my stomach spinning. Quite a few of them had been resurfaced, presumably against the organiser's wishes. It all helped my mood and the long miles from Acton Turville to Malmesbury passed quickly, for long awaited Eggs Benedict or Farmhouse Breakfasts.
We continued to make good time until the Avon Gorge section and the spectacular lanes between Bathford and Hinton Charterhouse, coming up with several suggestions for the answer to the info control. The highlight for me was remembering that Keep L to T where R on the route sheet means turn straight up a 25% hill on a blind T-junction. That was one time when my wisdom from previous events was well appreciated and avoided much wailing and gnashing of gears.
The almost ubiquitous Tonyh was stamping cards at Mells, having already done duty at Crockerton and Priddy (chapeau Tony, I will get to do all the Whitchurches sometime). Sarah suggested that we just get some food from the store, rather than the crowded and stuff cafe) so lunch in my case was eccles cakes, peanuts, chocolate milk, and water. The weather was closing in and it felt like we would get a storm, but all we got was some light rain around Shaftesbury. One heavier burst prompted the donning of rain jackets, but then it stopped and after that we just ignored the rain and carried on. One last touch of Wessex lanes after Shaftesbury (not wide enough for most cars, littered with mud stones and other rain debris) and one last hill (Fontmell Magna) were despatched. Perhaps to put Draycott out of my head I sprinted up the last bit of the hill out of Fontmell Magna, knowing that there were no further serious obstacles. We had one last short snack stop and rolled into Poole at 6.25pm.
It was a very un-epic epic, great scenery, great roads, great people, no mechanicals, just the sort of thing that brings me back to do events like this time and time again. Thank you Shawn and all the other helpers for putting this on year after year.
