One way ticket to the Brum
Linear Trip 2 21 APR 00
Well, I�ve been holed up here like a becalmed sailor waiting for that nasty northerly wind to go away; so when the forecast showed that the wind had veered around it was time to book a train ticket to Birmingham. Not sure about the rain forecast though, so I decided to wait until the last possible minute to buy it. This turned out to be the Thursday before Good Friday. First problem was that the 0522 train leaving Hull and arriving at Birmingham did not have any bike spaces available. Who the heck is stupid enough to want to take a bike on a train at that time on a Bank Holiday? The next available train was the 0705, so it was that or nothing, as any later would mean me arriving back home very late.
One way ticket to the Brum
Friday morning came and being a holiday, I only met two cars on the journey to the station. Pushing my bike along the station concourse I heard the unmistakable sound of a Paxman Ventura diesel engine belonging to a High Speed Train, something that took me back 25 years, as in my trainspotting days they were the big enemy, replacing our heroes the Class 55 �Deltics�. Sure enough, my train was the London King�s Cross express �The Hull Executive� with its own luggage van, which had nothing in it except my bike.
Settling back in my seat and putting on my sunglasses against the rising sun in a cloudless blue sky, we were soon travelling alongside the banks of the Humber. I decided to get out my GPS receiver to see how fast the train was moving. It sat nicely on the magazine holder on the back of the facing seat and was soon showing my position as an arrow speeding through the countryside at 75 mph. It showed the ETA for Doncaster where I would have to change trains. 
Good Morning bridge, see you later
At Donny, the bike was retrieved from the van and I waited on the platform for the Edinburgh to Plymouth train to arrive. It was a Virgin HST and the luggage van was in the same place as the train I�d just left. Only problem was that it was locked. It was only scheduled to stop here for one minute, so I was in a bit of a panic. I waved to the guard checking the doors and he gestured to me to turn the door lock. I pulled at it and showed him it was locked. He ran the length of the train and took out a special key to unlock the door and I got in. I could now see what part of the problem with bikes on trains is. If you had a dozen people trying to get bikes through one door and secure them inside, the train would be delayed for goodness knows how long at every station. Add all these minutes up and you would have a rail network in chaos.
The Virgin train sped through the Midlands, past the twisted spire of Chesterfield, through the 4-mile Dore and Totley tunnel, past Derby and finally drew into Birmingham at 0950. Only one other bike was in the van, so after retrieval, I pushed the bike through the bright and spotless station and out into central Birmingham. Thanks to John Mallard�s advice, it was quite easy to find the route out of England�s second city and soon I was making good progress towards the village of Water Orton.
Bombing down a hill into the village, I saw a speed hump with a narrow strip down the side, which I decided to take. Big mistake, my right pedal smashed into the top of the hump and smashed the toe clip. The pedal was bent now and felt all twisty. I shall be sending a bill to Warwickshire Council for damage caused by badly designed humps that have no cycle lane cut out.
I was now � running on one engine� with one toe clip and one without. Hang on though, passing through Shustoke, I spied a cycle repair shop, of course it was shut. Pity, judging by the antenna array in his back garden, he was a fellow radio enthusiast and we could have chatted about conditions on 10 metres while he put a new pedal on. On to Coleshill and after dragging up the hill next to the river Cole and then up the vertiginous High Street it was time to head for Baxterley. It was here that I lost my little crib sheet that I was referring to and took a wrong turning big style. I found this out only when I saw a welcome to Staffordshire sign and entered Tamworth, which was in the opposite direction from where I wanted to go. It was now starting to rain heavily and thing were going wrong. I stopped at a small shop and bought some Lucozade and Mars Bars.
The only map I had taken was an inkjet printout from Autoroute which, because it was wet, now resembled a 2 year old�s painting, or a Jackson Pollock masterpiece, depending on your view of modern art. Either way, it was useless. There was still a printed text, but no way of knowing how it related to my surroundings. Out came the GPS and after depressing myself by seeing that it was 99 miles home, in a straight line, used it to head east until I could find anywhere that was mentioned on the route. Eventually, I re-entered Shakespeare�s county and saw a sign to Sheepy Magna, a place that I recognised. I breathed a sigh of relief when the Leicestershire border was crossed.
Another day, another deluge. Getting wet on Bosworth Field.
The weather now was terrible, the rain was relentless and I was getting very dispirited indeed. I was not enjoying myself at all. In fact, I had noticed this feeling after shortly leaving Birmingham, I had this sensation of being �off form�, which I thought might go away. Instead it had become worse and I could not �psych myself up � for what I had to do. It was all too laboured. Whilst crossing Bosworth Field, I glanced to the south. It was clear and sunny over there, so the weather should ease up soon. Indeed at Market Bosworth it was only drizzling as I bought more Lucozade and chocolate. Nice little town this, it won Britain in bloom last year apparently.
The sun came out now as I still headed east toward Leicester, through Newtown Unthank and eventually onto the A46 past police retrieving a badly smashed up BMW. This was a very busy road, even on a Bank Holiday. It was also fast for cycling and I found that I could cruise at 24 mph quite easily for a good while. A few minutes after feeling raindrops again, it started to rain. The next town was Newark and my heart sank when I when I saw it was 42 miles away. That�s about 3 hours of riding on a busy road with only the odd friendly lorry for company. I kept asking myself what was the point if all I was doing was suffering. You must need a different mindset to be a cyclist; I couldn�t accept that after a great deal of effort, Newark had gone from being 44 miles away to 42 miles.
I stopped awhile under a bridge and saw that I was still 75 miles from home and very wet. Time to change the batteries for the Minidisc and batten down the waterproof coat. The remote control for the minidisc was now so full of water it wouldn�t work. Time to move on, I�m beginning to think that Newark doesn't exist; I don�t seem to be getting any closer at all. The sun came out again and I had to take off the waterproof coat and ride in t shirt only.
I wasn�t bothered about this ride anymore now and when Newark was eventually reached, I looked at the display and saw it was 96 miles. When it clicked over to 100 miles, I saw that the time taken was 6 hours 33 mins at an average of 15.3 mph; by far my best time, I didn�t even care. As I glanced behind there was a monsoon cloud, like those twisters you see in the USA. Just a block of solid rain heading my way and I couldn�t out run it. The inevitable happened and at Newton on Trent it started, rain so hard that it bounced off the road and came up to about 3 feet off the surface, so you would get a double dose. People in approaching cars were pointing and laughing as I struggled on.
More nasty weather on the way, but after the storm at least the rainbows are nice to look at.
My tracksuit bottoms were wringing wet through and my trainers and socks sodden. I found it very difficult to see as the rain streamed down in front of my eyes. Then both the earpieces became filled with water and it was like listening to the Dutch group Earth and Fire with the speaker at the bottom of a pool. It was case of taking them out the ears and trying to suck the water out. After about 20 minutes it stopped and the sun came out again. I had to get home before the next deluge, I couldn�t take another pasting like that again. Into Gainsborough and after stopping for a sandwich and yet more Lucozade it was off again.
It was now getting cold and my t-shirt was not going to be warm enough, but if I cycled fast enough, then with the heat generated, I might keep myself warm. It was starting to get dark now as I passed the giant steelworks in Scunthorpe, up the terrible A18 drag to the top of the hill. This was the worst hill I�ve come across today. Pyrenees, Alps, Yeah, I know, but for an ordinary bloke like me the hills to the Wolds are horrible, 300 ft in � mile. The batteries in the back light were now flat, so I had to stop to change them. Eventually, I hit the A15 road to the Humber Bridge, now only 10 miles way. I looked behind me again and saw another storm chasing me, a real vicious one. It was only another 8 miles to go, so I might be able to outrun it.
I was never so pleased to see those twin towers than tonight; the bridge was lit up and looked so good I stopped to take some night photos of it. After arriving home and turning on the outside sauna, I went to the off licence for some beer, although I was not in the mood for drinking. After all the chocolate, peanuts, cake and bloody Lucozade, my stomach felt like it had a lead weight in it. I�m just not used to eating this sort of stuff, but you have to for the calories I suppose.
I did not feel any sense of achievement at all though and wondered why I�d bothered, but listening to talk show host James H Reeve, munching a chicken satay and drinking a bottle of Black Sheep Best in the sauna cheered me up a bit. It wasn�t a bad effort, after all. Total distance was 156.6 miles in 10 hours 35 minutes. The first time the average had broken 14 mph (actually 14.8), neither knee was hurting and at the end I could pedal along quite easily. Just need to find something for a sore bum and a new pedal.
I don't want to do this anymore---home at last!
Linear Trip 3 + 3a