The idea of a mini adventure on the bike from Christchurch, Dorset up to Liverpool, a journey of around 266 miles, had really got under my skin. Using google maps I was able to fine tune the route, and apart from the initial journey to Salisbury the majority of the journey could be achieved using Sustrans National Cycle routes.
In theory this would mean a ride up the western side of England using minor roads, old railway lines and canal tow paths meaning a predoninantly flat route that would also be traffic free, or at least minimise meeting vehicles on the way.
Having also cycled 100 miles over three days I felt that if I continued to ride further and possibly faster each time I was able to get out on the bike, aside from the commute to work, I could get myself in the best condition possible for the Liverpool ride.
Of course all things are relative; only a few months previously I had taken the decision to commute to and from work on two wheels, and now I was convincing myself that I could turn a 16 mile daily commute into a 90 mile a day three day challenge.
Whilst my mind was racing ahead thinking of the details I needed to resolve and plan for (accomodation, nutrition, route guidance....) I stretched my furthest ride to a little over 54 miles one beautiful Sunday morning, and combined this with repeating previous 30 and 40 mile New Forest rides whenever time allowed.
With the increase in fitness, and by this time I had managed to lose some weight and inches off my waist, I invested in some better cycling clothing.....lycra had arrived in my life, and somehow I didn't look too awful in my newly purchased sports wear! Over the course of the summer I went further and further, extending my longest ride to a little over 66 miles, taking in the hills around Shaftesbury, and had pencilled in a ride to west Dorset to see my parents for mid August.
On this particular ride I was to learn a few very important lessons without which I would not have been able to undertake the Liverpool ride, which had now become locked in to be undertaken at the end of the first week of September (three weeks after the west Dorset ride!!!) and this lesson was "use satnav or something similar."
My parents have lived in West Dorset for around 20 years and by car the journey to their house is one I know incredibly well. However by bike I was going to avoid the use of major roads for all the usual reasons, traffic being the main one. So using the power of google maps I planned a route to avoid as much vehicle traffic as possible, and whilst research is important, I trusted my memory and general knowledge of Dorset to get me from my house to my parents.
Food and water prepped, cycle gear all laid out I was as ready as I thought I needed to be on the morning of the ride. Slight drizzle wasn't going to dampen my spirits (pun intended) and after a good breakfast I set off heading west.
Within a few miles of the route which to begin with was pretty much my daily commute I ended up riding with a couple on their tandom who were heading for the ferry for a fortnights ride around France (early cycle jealousy happened for me), and as the rain cleared a lovely morning gave me almost perfect cycling conditions.
A short trip across the entrance to Poole Harbour on the chain ferry was followed by a few hills as I headed towards Corfe Castle, and after a snack or two, photos looking back towards Poole Harbour and a quick check of a map I had printed off I continued heading through the Purbecks.
I stopped in the village of Wool for a bite of lunch, knowing that the further I headed west the route was going to become far more hilly and ensuring I had energy was going to be key to the remaining miles of the cycle. However I was already struggling with the reliance on my memory to confirm the route I needed to take. After a good ten miles of busy roads half remembering that this wasn't the route I had planned to take, my mood improved when I re-found the minor back roads I should have been on.
Riding through small, quaint villages was the plan, and was what I was now experiencing, and my body was coping with both the distance and the elevations I was tackling so far.........and then I found myself heading up the steepest hill I had ridden to date, probably ever, heading up towards Hardy's monument. I'm not afraid to admit it but I did have to stop about three quarters of the way up the road to the monument having dropped down to my lowest gear. I'd simply run out of gas.
A snack, a large gulp or two of water and I got back into the bike, having taken in the most stunning of views looking back towards Dorchester and beyond, and a little while later I reached the top of the hill. With the exception of the monument blocking out a tiny bit of the panoramic view across south to the English Channel, west towards Devon and possibly north towards Somerset / Wiltshire (sorry Dad, my geographical knowledge should be better!) the view was incredible and well worth the lung busting ride from the valley below.
A gentle ride down hill took me to the next error in my journey. As it turned out the next decision I took, again relying on my memory, took me from the correct route into a long valley ride to the village my parents live in, to one of the steepest hills in the south of England!!!
The view from the road I found myself on was breath taking; clear blue skies, unbroken views over to the English Channel and a very steep road heading downhill. At this point I was around 50 miles into my ride and a long downhill section was perfect for my now slightly tired legs. I have no idea who coined the phrase "what goes up must come down" (maybe the inventor of gravity?) but the term "what goes down must then cycle up a ridiculously steep hill" would be more accurate for the next few miles of my journey.
As with the previous ride up to Hardy's monument I found myself on a very long, steep section of road and even in my lowest gear I simply had to stop and get my breath back. After a few minutes on the side of the road, where I witnessed a number of vehicles also struggling to make it up the hill, I got back on the bike just in time to see a cyclist coming down the road towards me.
"Great work, you are almost there" the cyclist shouted towards me as he broke the speed of sound going down the hill, and he was correct......after a few minutes more I did make it to the top of the hill, which gave me an incredible view of the next few hills which I would need to climb up and free wheel down to get to my destination.
Arriving at my parents house they very kindly greeted me on their driveway, my dad capturing my exhausted, red cheeked look having arrived in one piece on his camera phone, but clearly having taken several wrong turns and added some significant elevation into the ride. 3214 feet (979 metres) of elevation to be precise, and for the last ten miles having taken at least one wrong turn I couldn't help feel I might have added a lot of that elevation in error.
Maybe it was time to consider some form of satnav assistance because I would never make it to Liverpool if I relied on my own memory for directions. It was time to assemble the crew which I would need to travel up north.