It's Soooooooo Bracing!

That's what the Victorians said, at least. I'm guessing that they were too polite to say what they really felt about the place.

By 'bracing' what they mean is "there's a howling wind blowing off the freezing cold North Sea". Thus it was on 8th May for my second riding of the "Everybody Rides to Skeggy" Audax. This 302km ride starts in Alfreton and is, it seems, universally windy. Last year, however, the wind was from the West and behind us for the first 100 miles, this year was the reverse.

I often wondered which was worse on a ride, having the wind against early or late. I think I now know that having the wind behind early on is best, you get ahead of expectations, and have time in hand when the going gets tough. The other way, you are already knackered when you turn to cycle with the wind, and are too tired to exploit it.

Last year's attempt was one of the first on the 'tourer', a none-too-light Kinesis Racelight with rack & panniers, this year I was determined to be faster, so I took the Trek. I know the sight of a carbon fibre Trek with a Carradice Longflap Saddlebag is a little incongruous, but 'needs must'.

Setting off early from Alfreton, one thing was immediately apparent. It may have been May, but it felt like November. I had layers of Winter gear on, but was still cold. And stayed that way for most of the day. When it stopped raining, the wind was just evil. At least I don't have the problems that Ray does. At 9 stone wringing wet (we were) the slightest puff of wind sent him all over the place, I'm more of an 'immovable object' (and it feels like it uphill). Timberland Fen near Woodhall Spa was a very good example. Maximum effort, hunched over the bars, 11 mph.

Worst of all are the controls. Each an oasis of warmth, once warm you have to put cold, wet kit back on and go back outside. Ugh! By Skegness, we didn't even stop that long at the control, and kept the wet kit on. Shortly before Sutton-on-Sea we had our last downpour and, on the seafront, turned West for Home. After 100 miles of headwind, the silence was deafening. 11mph flat out became an effortless 20, and windchill reduced to the level that layers came off.

Horncastle and Lincoln came quickly, but legs were sapped by now and the last section to Alfreton seemed interminable. We arrived, once again in the dark, at 22:19 for a total time of 16:19 for the 302km (187 miles). Surprisingly, we were numbers 24 and 25 back, there still being 41 out on the road. In the 15 minutes we were recovering only 2 more arrived, and we saw no others on our journey back to the M1. It turns out that many finished around or after midnight. Perhaps we didn't do so badly after all. The first finisher was 90 minutes down on his 2009 time, I was only 42 minutes slower. Sometimes what seems a bad day at the office may actually be a good one.

302km, 187 miles in 16:19 with over 2 hours of stops.
Average speed 21.1kmh

I'll settle for that, but the legs are destroyed. No worries, only the Etape du Dales to come.