It wasn't long after leaving Sturdey's Castle - the cloying yumminess of an late-evening treacle pudding and custard still playing with my palette, that I commented upon the fine evening light and scoffed at a passing suggestion that rain might be on the way - than a theatrical light display played out across a pitch black horizon in what appeared to be the location of Brize Norton and the route back to Cirencester. Maybe this is just a bombing raid on the airbase, I mused to myself, and not the early flurries of a violent thunderstorm. But as we progressed through Bladon and the road to Witney talking about DIY wheelbuilding, it became clear that it was indeed the latter. The two chaps I was cycling with pulled over (perhaps to discuss strategy for the remainder of the ride), but I pressed on determined to get, for once, a sub-midnight finish for a 300. But then I saw further flashes lighting up an ink black wall of cloud followed by a disturbing boom which caught me srurrying for a conveniently sheltering doorway. I had, after all, cycled through a storm before -
https://yacf.co.uk/forum/index.php?topic=100317.msg2173197#msg2173197.
The light show was impressive, but never getting too close. Every ten minutes or so a brave soul went by furtively on a bike. After about 45 mins I was about to head out of my cover when the rain began. Nothing too heavy, but with the rain came the wind and it was noticeably cooler. Further cyclists, now armed stoically with waterproofs and steely determination passed by. I stayed put. Finally the rain abated and a security person appeared sounding a little too chummy for my liking. He gave me that, go-on-and-pull-the-other-one look as I explained where I'd cycled during the course of the day, and where I was now bound (it had been a delicious ride, I hasten to add - delirious Merry England views, weather that wouldn't be out of place in Tuscany, and food stops that never knowingly go underserved. From watching the husky red sphere peep over the Eastern vales as we ascended Whiteway, to the same orb disappearing behind a granite rockface of cloud, it had been so glorious.
And now with new tree buds dripping and the roads noticeably quieter I paced on dodging puddles, around the still extant airfield (which was a relief) and out into the lanes. I passed the first chap shortly after this point, then two more (the one in front without an active rear light), then at least three chaps mettling a broken chain. I was flying along the lanes now. Couldn't really see the road very well but staying somewhere around the middle to avoid the large puddles. O, and then the flooded road around a sudden bend. And then two more, steadily going towards our destination. And then the main road, and then the lights of Cirencester, and then the very welcome, welcome.
To sum up, a wonderful day in the saddle and met a great cross-section of the AUK community, including many on fixies and Van Morrison titaniums. Even some steel. Even a Flying Gate. Was that really a Brompton? It must have rained heavily again overnight as the roads were seriously bepuddled in the early hours as I drove back east. I wonder if that chap made it back to Coventry to make it up to a 400? I hope so. I hope all made it safely home.
