The saga continues.....
FROM PART 1Porkers 400.Whilst the other Wessex rides had been incidental and part of a bigger plan, this one was the first ride I wanted to do as part of completing the Wessex SR series. I have done this as a Perm twice (in 2009 and 2011) and it is fair to say that a number of the route sheet discrepancies I highlight in the subsequent ride report (from 2009) have been corrected but I have decided to leave them in just in case. 2010 saw the arrival of the Wu'Ze 400 which could be ridden instead of the Porkers. I was fortunate to ride the route check for the Wu'Ze with Mr Shaw over two days and of the two rides, I would say that the Wu'Ze is a more interesting ride and although not easier, has a very different character to the Porkers. Hopefully, the Wu'Ze will return as a calendar event in the not too distant future. Notoriously tough, the Porkers is a legendary ride: looking at the various ride reports, people either breezed around, wondering what the fuss was all about or were quite simply, broken. As one can imagine, on my first attempt in 2009, I approached this one with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.
This wasn’t going to be a solo attempt and I was glad of the company of two other Wessex veterans; Steve Arahams and Paul Whitehead. As this was an afternoon start, Postie and I had managed to find eats the other side of the Hospital as the George pub and cafe we had been told about, ‘Butter Fingers’ weren’t open for food. I find it a most bizarre thing; munching on pasty and chips in the afternoon not because you are hungry but because you have to start a weird feeding pattern necessary to get you through the next 24 hours. Mike Kelly had decided to join us too, fitting in a quick 200k from his home and Nigel Winter rolled up on fixed, keen to join us at least for the first part. The quay at Poole is also a good place to meet for grub and has some excellent fish and chip shops plus toilets if you need them.
The first section over to Weymouth and onto Portland was easy going and relaxed, picking out a pleasant route between the busy roads of the region and familiar ground to those who have ridden another Wessex cracker, The Dorset Delight. Not that familiar though as a change in the road layout had all of us scratching our heads for a bit around We had been very lucky with the weather too. It was the longest day and whilst riding in June is no guarantee a dry ride, conditions were almost perfect. Plus there are no hills to really challenge you until you have to climb out of Fortuneswell. I didn’t see Steve and Nigel for dust on this one but resisted the temptation to chase after them as there were plenty of hills to come.
Based on previous visits, I’ve found Portland can be a grim place but the southern tip (or the Bill of Portland Bill) was delightful, as was the Lobster Pot cafe and our first control. More shameless stuffing ensued but thankfully, Mike had half an eye on the clock as it felt like none of us were in a rush to leave.
The second section retraced to the mainland and around the coast to Portesham with our first sloggy hill, the ascent of Black Down. This time there was no visit to Hardy’s Monument but a descent of the last hill climbed on the 3D rolling us on towards Litton Cheyney and our first real hill, a 25% climb up to and across the A35. A fantastic view back to Portland gave us all an excuse to catch our breath before saying goodbye to Nigel and pushing on to Beaminster and the gargantuan portions served at The Greyhound Inn. Not feeling that hungry, I opted for a modest fish pie but Steve’s half a roast duck was something to behold. I think we were almost an hour there and much of that was spent trying to get through the platefuls of food served to us. Proper nosh although you are spoilt for choice in the village with at least one other pub, two food stores and a chippy. A couple at the bar took an interest in us and asked the dreaded question: “You bin far today then?”, “No, only from Poole”, “Well that’s far enough. Where you goin’ to now then?”,” Taunton”, “What, tonight?”, “Yes”, “Where to after that then?”, “Corscombe”, “Corscombe! That’s only 5 miles up the road. Why on earth are you goin’ to Taunton first?” This is the bit I’ve not quite got the hang of explaining. Perhaps there is no way of explaining the ‘why’ of this Audax lark. I mumbled something about it being on our route but the mood at the bar had already changed with the couple convinced we were having a joke at their expense. Time to leave.
Section 3 was another short leg but rather lumpy. Rather than take a route Directly to Taunton Deane services, you are sent out westwards and south of the Blackdown Hills to Hemyock before having to (finally) climb up to the ridge and eastwards again to the Merry Harriers pub. By time we got to Hemyock, it was dark and I was reminded why I had been relieved to have Steve and Paul with me; at odds with the route sheet, the road layout and priorities in Hemyock had changed (which luckily they both noticed), and the crossroads at Simonsburrow was missing completely meaning that had we followed the next instruction after Hemyock as per the route sheet (left at crossroads) we would have scooted off in completely the wrong direction. I was also reminded that this a Shawn Shaw ride by the type of road we had to negotiate. Whereas most organisers will design the route so that you are on quiet main or A roads during the darkest hours, with Shawn there is no such concession. The descent to Taunton Deane is a steep, single-track grit strewn, pot-holed lane which needs a fair degree of concentration and good lights if you are to avoid an impromptu flying lesson. Still, in the dry this feature of the ride staved off the dozies and added a bit of excitement but in the pouring rain and on flooded roads, it would have been an altogether different proposition.
The last time I was at Taunton Deane services was on the 2006 Kernow & South West. It was blazing hot, my arms were blistered from not packing sun cream and I was a bit shell shocked by the number of people after being on my own for so long. Memorably, a complete stranger felt it was his duty to inform me that not wearing a helmet must have been illegal and why wasn’t I wearing one. To be honest, I wasn’t in the best place to receive this wisdom but was too knackered to come back with a witty or even acerbic retort. By contrast, at midnight on the longest day, the services was a ghost town and there was a distinct lack of staff wishing to rip us off at the Costa so we had to make the most of whatever the shop offered. God, service stations are a bloody awful. To find yourself in one at any time of the day is bad but at the dead of night, happened upon by bike, they are completely soulless, dreadful places. I think Taunton Deane Services were on a mission to raise the bar on the whole dire experience and managed successfully to make the place feel as unwelcoming and unpleasant as they could. For example, can you make it feel colder than it actually is outside with all the doors open in the middle of June? In Taunton Deane services, yes, this is possible. To be fair, the staff weren’t completely unattentive; from nowhere, a matronly manager swiftly intercepted me when I decided the Costa was a self-service restaurant as no one seemed to be available to fill my water bottles.
All this was a too much excitement for Mike Kelly. He declared that his work on the Porkers was done and bade us farewell to find succour in the flesh pots of Taunton. We never heard from him again. Perhaps he is still there...
So then there were three as we set off back up and over the hill we had descended just a couple of hours before. The gradient of the ride eased slightly and before long, we were cruising around the pitch black misty lanes of the Levels. Around Roundham, there was supposed to be a right turn and although there was no signpost, the road was supposed to have the improbable name of Cathole Bridge Rd but without the road name visible and no distance offered between instructions, we couldn’t be sure that we had the right ‘right turn’. Much clambering and thrashing around in the hedgerow’s stinging nettles and brambles unearthed the road name plaque allowing us to continue assured we were on route. Note: if you have read that sentence and thought ‘bugger that’ then these rides may not be for you.
We arrived in Corscombe and just over half way to find sanctuary of the church hall porch at just past 3 am. A veritable feast had been left for us and secured under Badger proof defences by Mr Arthur Vince. I had bumped into Arthur at the pub after Ian H’s June weekend of pain which included the lumpy Valley of the Rocks 200 followed by the equally lumpy (but mercifully shorter) Devon and Somerset 100. When it came up in conversation we were having a crack at the Porkers, Arthur kindly offered to leave some grub out for us as he was running an event the next day and it was no bother for him to feed us. What a grand chap. Sure enough, there were all sorts of home cooked munchies on hand including flasks of tea and coffee. We munched away for well over an hour and it was difficult to prise ourselves away with food still left but I think there was a real risk of us never leaving at all.
Another short section followed, taking in a series of gratuitous climbs on the way, to Winterborne Whitechurch in the growing warmth of Sunday morning. Without sleep, we had slowed up a lot. Paul suffered two visitations and I was having a major attack of the dozies but knew we didn’t have the time to stop so I had to hope they would pass. I was once again glad of my co-riders who spotted another error on the route sheet at precisely the moment where as far as I could discern, the road had turned into a beach and Paul and Steve had turned into Dolphins. All things considered, it was no surprise that we turned up at the (closed) Milton Arms right on the time limit. Still, we had to make time to eat from our bags whilst fighting off the desire to sleep as we sat around under a tree in the middle of the T junction.
Apart from one sloggy climb over what seemed to be the only hill in the immediate area, we swept through Okeford Fitzpaine, hammered on across the middle of Dorset, crossing into Wiltshire and positively flew over Salisbury Plain into Shrewton. I don’t know what was in our saddle bags at Whitechurch but on this penultimate section, from being right on the time limit, we managed to claw back almost two and a half hours and enjoyed our 3rd breakfast in high spirits sat on up-turned milk crates at the village’s petrol station. It is worth noting again that we had superb, if not perfect weather. In bad weather or with a headwind, the whole stretch from Taunton Deane to Shrewton would have been grim in the extreme and with no pub or cafe in which to find shelter, I reckon life would have been anything but rosy.
The last 70k left a few nasties for us to tackle including the series of whale-backed ridges from Whyle over to Dinton and Sixpenny Handle; familiar to some of you who have ridden Postie’s Whyle and Ebble Valley 200. Somewhere above our heads was an enactment of the Battle of Britain courtesy of the local airfield, whilst in my shoes there was a minor battle going on with the soles of my feet and my pedals courtesy of 300+ of riding. Under the shade of the trees and just before the final descent, I made the most of being at the end of the climb by stopping and airing my feet in the warm June day, blissfully oblivious to the fact that I was surrounded by flies. After the descent, the most memorable picture of the ride was watching Steve come out of the shop in Sixpenny Handley with his pockets bulging with bottles of Coke. We all sat at on the green, savouring the knowledge that the worst of the ride was over and all that was left was the rolling road back to Poole.
Somewhere on the last section, a familiar figure greeted us, looking fresh as a daisy after completing the Denmead 400. It was of course, Margaret Philpotts. An absolute pleasure to see her, especially as she knew exactly what was involved in completing this ride and was able to cheer us on to the end. A superb ride and possibly the best Audax of 2009, apart from the rest of them.
Hellfire 600Originally run as the Brimstone 600, this is the last (and for me, the finest) ride of the four that make up the series. It covers a vast and varied area of southern and western England but has none of the relentless climbing in concurrent stages that featured in the Porkers and the Hardboiled. Actually, that is not strictly true. Most of the hardest climbs are contained in the stage from Beaminster to Exmouth, with one or two notable others cropping up elsewhere and characteristically where you’d least want to encounter them in a 600k. I've done this one twice; back in 2009 to complete the Wessex SR and in 2010 as preparation for the Mille Cymru and it is from 2009 that the subsequent ride report is taken from.
So, over-endowed with enthusiasm and spurred on by a closing domestic window for weekend rides, I found myself setting off from the (now familiar) BP garage opposite Poole hospital into a warm and sunny early July morning on my own. I wasn’t feeling 100% and had a nagging feeling that I had over-extended myself in terms of objectives for 2009. I’d set my sights on LEL but a Wessex SR was never in my thinking until that fateful afternoon in Shawn’s kitchen earlier in the year. Now, it was more important than LEL and the fact that I couldn’t drum up any co-riders wasn’t going to stop me.
Unfortunately, heat exhaustion did stop me. By Exmouth, although with plenty of time in hand, I decided that LEL (in three weeks’ time) was more important than suffering a seizure in some grot filled lane in the middle of nowhere. I boarded a train and found safe harbour in a pub with my friends in Exeter although it was a good two weeks before I was back to full health.
The next attempt had to wait until the September but this time I had company: Ian Hennessy, Matt Haigh, Steve Abraham and Judith Swallow had decided to join me and support me in my mission to complete the series. This really was the last throw of the dice but with such esteemed company, I felt assured of success.
The first stage is fast and with no real hills, you will find yourself at Abbotts Ann village shop just as people start turning up for their papers. The shop is run as a Social Enterprise and staffed by volunteers who lend an air of The Two Ronnies to buying a Danish Pastry. There are usually chairs outside and on the three times I have visited the shop, it has always been sunny and the fast run means plenty of time to sit down and enjoy an ice cream.
The second stage is relatively short and takes you westwards into WIltshire, through the Woodfords and then up the Wylye valley to Codford, just off the A36. There is a service station at Codford but as long as you are not too fast, do not pass up the opportunity to eat at the George Inn or get a receipt at the service station and press on to dine at the Dove Inn, Corton.
Stage 3 starts off gently enough (a blessing if you ate at the Dove Inn) and climbs majestically before descending into a meander through the flatlands of North Dorset. Don’t be fooled though, after Sherborne the countryside starts to roll again and the white-knuckle descent into Beaminster (the Co-Op in the square is your best bet for a feed stop) is a portent of what lies in store in the next stage.
Stage 4 over to Exmouth is a tough stage with a climb rate of 22m/km over 61km. The first raft of hills are encountered as you traverse Dorset from north to south to reach the coast at Charminster. On the descents from Shave Cross , Matt Haigh and I encountered a tractor, fully equipped with spikey things with us at full pelt and with nowhere to go. The tractor stopped but I couldn’t and my get out was to jam myself between the side of the tractor and the hedge whilst Matt managed to jump off his bike in time to avoid going being impaled. We had to retrieve Matt’s bike from under the tractor before the farmer could back up and let me disentangle myself from the bracken. We were both OK bar a few scratches but the poor farmer was a bit shaken up.
A short stretch of the A35 and then you join the rollercoaster that is the A3052 through Charminster, Lyme Regis and onto Sidmouth. This is a busy road but if you are of average pace, it shouldn’t be too bad as most of the traffic will have died down. From Sidmouth, there is a corker of a climb after the golf course that is both steep and long – perhaps the toughest climb on the whole ride –and there are still some slogs to conquer before you roll into the service station on the outskirts of Exmouth, probably around dusk.
With most 600k rides, the organiser considers your state of weariness and offers a less challenging night section in terms of road quality, ascent and navigation, especially after a tough section. However, as with the Porkers, the Hellfire is not like most 600s and although the ascent rate drops to a mere 16m/km, there are plenty of gravelly pot-holed lanes and interminable climbs before arrival at Taunton Deane signifies the half way mark and the end of section 5. It’s best to savour the comfort of the sofas and stock up here as the next section has little in the way of food, water and shelter for the next 133k.
After a surreal early morning ride through the revellers of Taunton, Stage 6 sweeps northwards through Somerset, up the Cheddar Gorge, over the Mendips and back into Wiltshire. If you are riding this stage on a Sunday morning, you will find nothing open on the route for the duration of this section. It is a fine route though and you should be able to make up any lost time on the falling descent and flat roads into Malmesbury where there are plenty of shops and cafes in which to fool yourself that the worst is behind you. The Summer Café is a favourite control but is pricey and service can be slow if it is busy. If you are pressed for time, there are plenty of options and a Co-Op next door to the cafe.
You may notice that I have not identified or described a sleep stop for this ride. Like the Wu’Ze, the calendar event visited the residence of a Mr Drew Buck en route through the Mendips and fast riders would have enjoyed a sleep stop there but no such luxury exists for those on the perm. If you are fast, you may want to sort something out around this area otherwise there’s chance for a cat nap at Taunton Deane services. We found trying to find something around Cheddar in a land seemingly devoid of bus shelters is quite a challenge. Personally, I wouldn’t get too hung up on planning a sleep stop as you may need all of the time just to get round in 40 hours.
Once you get over the comedic value of the name ‘Nunney Catch’ it is time to wend your way south west again and to enjoy some more of the finest scenery there is around Bradford Upon Avon. In his pursuit to hunt down the most demanding climbs in the region, Mr Shaw must have thought he had hit chevron gold around the Avon valley as you climb out of Warleigh (to the aptly named Conkwell) only to descend again, cross the Avon and climb up through Sharpstone on the opposite side. It is all very pretty but you’d probably think twice about attempting it in a car.
The service station at Nunney Catch offers brief relief amongst bags of charcoal stacked outside and time to reflect on the nature of the ride. The first two stages break you in gently but after that, the hills come in waves as you criss-cross the fabled land of Wessex to crest them all. I have completed this route twice, once in July and once in September and have been very lucky with the weather. I wonder what it would be like in bad weather with very little shelter and flooded roads? Pretty grim, I reckon.
For the last stage, the altitude meter drops down to just below 12m/km and the climbing is limited to a handful of long drags before you find yourself descending through the Tarrants towards easier terrain. NB: beware the info control in Tarrant Gunville as it is tricky to find when you are sleep deprived and short on patience. Perhaps the sun will be setting behind you as you turn onto the Wimborne road for the (usual) tear-up back to the finish. I have found Poole can’t arrive quickly enough and it can be a bit of a shock to the system; mixing it up with the traffic after enjoying empty and relatively car free (if not tractor free) roads for such a long time.
Although the official Arrivée is the BP garage, you may find the George Inn (just down the road) a more fitting place to celebrate your achievement and the completion of a Wessex SR. I can certainly recommend
BEER as a post ride isotonic tincture but not as a positive step towards road safety if you are intending to drive home with next to nothing banked in terms of sleep.
So there you have it; a potted Wessex SR that will hopefully encourage you to join the roll of honour and handful of names who have taken on the delights of the area and survived to tell the tale. It's worth Googling on the events as there is a fair bit of stuff floating about on the Internet, including some very fine articles written by Peter Marshall when the events were run in the calendar.
Good luck!
H
