Marie Curie Coast to Coast - In the Night Garden meets Man vs Food

It's fair to say I probably underestimated how hard this weekend's coast to coast would be. Apart from the beginner's routes at Dalby and Hamsterley Forests where I usually get overtaken by little kids with stabilisers, and a bit of riding up and down kerbs occasionally, I don't really do off road.  Technical riding is not a concept I'm even remotely familiar with.

Roads?  Where we're going, we don't need roads!

Part of this underestimation led me to think it would be no biggy to cycle 52 miles to Helmsley with luggage the day before the ride in order to catch the bus to Grange over Sands.  Some of this decision was undoubtedly due to my aversion / borderline phobia of getting on trains with my bike.  I can't stand all the staring competitions and jockeying for position on the platform.

Even I should be able to find Helmsley from here....

I set off for Helmsley at 8 am on Thursday.  I stopped at halfway at Beningborough Hall for a big bowl of porridge, but even taking my time I was in Helmsley by around 2.30.  I was way too early and I was having that first day of school feeling.  For a while I thought I might just cycle home again.

Something tells me that pannier is going to be well within the 20kg  baggage allowance

Eventually people starting arriving and as I watched them unloading mountain bikes from car racks and out of the boots of cars, I thought, this is probably my lot.  Predominantly the riders seemed to be very athletic looking women with virtually no body fat.  Holy shit, I thought, these guys don't look like the kind of part time pot bellied middle aged joke riders I'm used to riding with, they look like proper athletes.  Not only do I not know anyone, I'm going to get killed.

Whose idea was this again?

No-one else was in cycling kit but me, since no-one else is nuts enough to prepare for a cycling challenge by doing unnecessary miles the day before.  When someone asked me about it, I said I'd cycled to the start.  No you haven't, you've cycled to the bus, they said, the start is in Grange over Sands.  Technically correct I suppose, The next person I spoke to was Sarah, who had just cycled John o'Groats to Land's End in 9 days.  Bloody hell, these guys are good.

On the bus I mostly spoke to Cheryl and Susan, telling the latter about previous Coast to Coast efforts I'd done since 2006, probably trying to sound like I knew what I was talking about.

Sea View 2 England 1

The bus seemed to take ages, and we didn't get to Grange until around 8.20.  I thought about going out for something to eat, but England vs Uruguay was on TV so I just had a dry brunch bar I'd bought which seemed to absorb all the moisture out of my body, and a coffee.  I wasn't even disappointed about the lack of food.  I was just glad to have a sea view, and a telly and a bed.  And to get those bloody lycra shorts off that I'd had on for over 12 hours.  England lost.  I wasn't bothered about that either.  I'm used used to it now.  It hurts less now each time.

Robin Van Persie's header - possibly the most beautiful thing I've ever seen (on a football field)

The next morning, after a breakfast of fruit salad and yoghurt, laid on early by the B&B, I went down to registration around 7.15.  One of the best decisions I made all weekend was to decline the use of a yellow day bag.  I decided to carry my own stuff in the giant seat pack I'd brought.  Just as well since the day bags seemed to spend the weekend going on a completely different trip to the riders.  I think they were having a holiday of their own.  It seemed a bit cruel of the organisers to get people to think of the stuff they might need throughout the day, and then use those essentials for a giant game of yellow hide and seek (only joking organisers!).

Milling around at the start - Would you like a day bag with that?  Er, no thanks...

I got chatting to Paul the French translator at the start, and then I introduced myself to another first timer Rebecca.  Not long after that Reggie and Wayne turned up  (I tried to write a description of them in this part, but I gave up because it's impossible to describe them with words only, you really need the sound and pictures too).  I had the great idea of trying to get my picture taken with them, to make myself look cooler by association.  I'm not sure it worked.  I probably just looked tiny instead.  I don't even have biceps.

Reggie and Wayne - So fast they can bend the very fabric of space and time

Something I found out by accident.  If you don't know anyone, wear an interesting cycling jersey, one that gets you noticed.  Good thing I chose Green Eggs and Ham.  It helped to break the ice.

Green Eggs and Ham - pretty much the only food group I didn't eat this weekend

Something else I was about to learn.  If you're going on a trip with 60 strangers, who happen to be cyclists, it's like getting to know double that number.  Because everyone looks completely different in the evening, minus lycra, crash hat etc.  At first you think it's an amazing coincidence how many people have similar life stories, but then you realise it's because you've had the same story twice off about 50 people, once with and once without lycra.

Hanging out with strangers gets a bad press at times, particularly when you're a child and you're told to avoid men who want to buy you sweets and show you puppies, but as an adult it can really work out well.  You just need to find the right group.  Over the 3 days I found that a Marie Curie Coast to Coast is a good starting point.

Hanging out with strangers - Statistically safer than hanging out with people you know

At the briefing at the start we were told basically to eat and drink loads.  We weren't so much supposed to eat as to subject ourselves to violation by food.  It was like Man vs Food on tour.  I've had so much sugar in 3 days the whole structure of my face has started to collapse.  By the last night, I couldn't even chew.  I've lost the top layer of skin off tongue and mouth.  One positive from this, is that my mouth being sore, took my mind off the outer bruises I was about to get.

Tracy, Sue and Sarah - compared to these girls I ride like something the cat dragged in

Part of the attraction of the ride was the lack of responsibility, and also that all the meals were provided.  Other rides I've done but not been able to enjoy or relax into because of the responsibility of leading, or because they've been so bloody long that I didn't feel able to relax about the distance to be covered.

Here's me looking miserable - about to ride Coast to Coast in 2012 with shoes full of water

Last time I rode through beautiful Barbondale was in 2012 on my way to Redcar.  I was about 15 miles into a 108 mile ride, my shoes were full of water from the day before and all I could think about was how far we had left to go.

At the side of Reggie's, my bike looks like a clown bike....And that's pretty much how I ride it

This time going through Barbondale I fell into a small group led by Mick with amongst others Wayne, Reggie and Rebecca for company.  One of the drawbacks of solo riding is that when the going is hard, there's nothing or no-one to distract you from your own thoughts.  There's no danger of that with Reggie and Wayne.  I've no idea what they are going on about half the time, but I'd be happy to listen to them reading out of the phone book.

Wayne and Reggie with Lorna the Marie Curie Nurse - the real star of the show

You know those supposedly soothing whale song cds they sell for about 15 quid in new age shops, which are not in the least relaxing because all you can think about is why you've spent 15 quid on this recording of absolute bollocks, well they should record Wayne and Reggie talking about stuff like why they've just eaten a Mars bar that they didn't really want, and whether they want any crisps or not.  I'd buy them.  Put that together with Rebecca's infectious laughter and those are just the kind of soothing sounds that you need around you when you're about to have a near death experience, wondering whether the pain in your chest is a pulled muscle from trying to fight to stay on the bike, or if your family history of heart disease is about to come back to bite you in a more permanent way.

Barbondale - I had time to enjoy it this time

After lunch on Day 1, and before we got to Dent Fell, we rode through the village of Dent.  I thought there must be some sort of school sports day going on, because as we rode over the cobbles into the village I could hear the sound of school children cheering.  One of the best parts of the whole weekend was discovering as we passed the school that they were actually cheering us.  If there's one thing that can make you smile and feel good about yourself, it's being cheered by schoolchildren.  What a lovely surprise!

If this doesn't make you feel like a hero, nothing will

It's just as well I had received this boost to my morale, because as Wayne had promised at the lunch stop, the whole thing was about to get a lot harder.  Let's get this straight.  Off Road to me means cycle path.  The only stunt I do regularly is riding up and down the kerb.  To me that's pretty exciting stuff.  So I started to worry slightly when the ride leaders start using words like 'quite technical' and 'a bit dangerous' and throwing in things like 'last year there was a horror smash at these traffic lights' Ride leaders always play stuff down so if they're telling you there's actual danger then you know it's time to start paying attention.

Karl, Sophie, Shaun, Vicky, Tim, Mick, Gill and Peter - with guides this good you can't really go wrong

People had been talking about Dent Fell as if it was a mythical beast.  I assumed they were exaggerating for effect.  I've been up Dent Head via the road, and although it's long and steep in places it's easy enough with low gears and a bit of stamina.  I was about to discover the off road route is something else entirely.  The start of the off road section is so vertical and rocky-looking it's easy to give up before you start.

If you're going to be slumped over your handlebars, gasping for air, the least you can do is appreciate the view

The mile or so going up Dent Fell is probably the most I've ever exerted myself on a bike in such a short space of time.  I kept losing my rear wheel on the loose surface and having to jump off, ending up slumped over the handlebars gasping for breath.  This does not happen to me on normal hills.  On tarmac I can pretty much get up anything in a low enough gear.  Eventually, on the Moonscape of Dent Fell I just ran out of energy.  I managed to get a dose of purple sludge off Mick the guide to keep me going.  I felt a bit dumb for not following the advice to eat myself silly.

Just having a pause, and waiting for the purple sludge to kick in

It seemed to take forever to reach the top, and when we did we stopped briefly to regroup.  Because Dent Fell is such slow going we'd been split into small groups prior to the ascent.  We were then sent off at intervals, in the hope of avoiding a mass pile up of bikes part way up.  The sub group I was in was led by Mick.  I'd never met any of the rest of the group until the morning of the ride, but it doesn't take long to grow together.

Mick, Wayne, Rebecca, Reggie, Andrew, Sue, Alistair (oh and me).  

Maybe it's because you're physically vulnerable, out there in the fresh air with nothing to separate you from the earth and the sky, maybe it's because you're suffering at times, maybe it's because you all look ridiculous in lycra, maybe it's a siege mentality against the hill, I don't know what it is, but the bonds formed on these kinds of trips stay with you.  I've felt it before when riding with friends, but it was a new experience to feel this way with strangers.

Here's me bonding with people I already know

If I thought that reaching the top of Dent Fell was the hard part, then I hadn't counted on what it would be like to go down the other side.  For me going down meant literally that, as in that was the part of the ride where I started falling off.

Mick the Guide - always on hand with practical advice, like 'point the bike where you want it to go', ie not down a rabbit hole

For a while now, for reasons too dull to go into, I've been feeling a lot like Bruce Willis in the Sixth Sense, a ghost, a dead man inhabiting his own life.  If there's anything that can remind you that you're still alive, it's riding down a hill where's there's no obvious path, and where your front wheel keeps going down invisible holes.  I fell off 3 times in about a hundred yards.  But a bit like watching England's defending at the World Cup, I started to relax into it and see the funny side.   I even started to enjoy the sensation of falling.  It was only grass it didn't hurt.  especially the temporary relief of a lie down.

If I needed any inspiration or encouragement to keep going, I just had to look around.  I met a little lady called Chris, with an Orange bike and orange helmet, who'd had quite a bad crash recently, and compared to me she was absolutely flying.  Cycling is a timeless thing, she said, which took her back to the freedom she felt riding a bike as a child.  It's almost like magic.  Whatever is going on in your life in the background, when you're on the bike, you seem to exist outside of your own life, and the limitations of time and age and circumstance.

Here's some people who've transcended Time and Space taking some photographs - there's Chris in the Orange Hat

The smallest rider of all was Lynne, but she was getting well stuck in too, so I thought, bloody hell, if these tiny women are absolutely ruling these bumpy surfaces, while I'm riding round as if my bike is made of bone china, I need to man up.

Lynne - Can you spot her?

Oh, yeah, I almost forgot there was also 78 year old Mike doing it on his little skinny tyred hybrid.  He was making us all look bad.  Especially when he was riding through foot deep puddles and crashing into hedges while I was tiptoeing through the squelch trying not to get my feet wet.

Here's Mike - making it all look easy

The first day was around 45 miles long, but to me it felt as hard as doing around double that on the road.

The first night's accommodation was at the Green Dragon in Hardraw.  Probably the thing I was most nervous about the trip was room sharing.  I got allocated a room with Steve and Ali.  As much as anything, I was worried about my own potential for snoring.  Also, it can be slightly unnerving to have a semi naked man you've just met, wander past about a foot from your head on his way to the toilet at 4 in the morning.

I probably wouldn't have noticed that kind of thing, if I hadn't been awake from 3 am.  Whether it was a time lag energy drink pile up, or just because I daren't go back to sleep in case I snored I don't know.  For ages around 4 am after both Steve and Ali had been for a toilet stop there was a lot of rustling which seemed to go on for ever, like someone taking an age to open a single boiled sweet.  It's hardly the midnight snack of champions I thought.  It turned out Steve was trying to open a packet of ear plugs.

I was very aware of not making any noise myself, but when I tried to find my I-pod to listen to some music for a while, in the dark fumbling around all I could find was the packet of Cheese and Onion crisps I'd picked up at lunch that I didn't really want.  The rustling was deafening.  I carried those crisps around for 3 days.  I only ate them after I got home.  Although by then with all the falls they were less like crisps and more like crumbs.

Day 2 - Bring the noise!

Day 2 started with some off road, and I had an early fall.  This one hurt more than the 3 the day before because this time I fell on the rocks.  Matter is supposed to be full of empty space, and allegedly all the matter in the known universe could be compressed down to the size of an infinitely dense pea.  It doesn't bloody feel like you're hitting empty space when you fall on a rock.  At the point where I fell off the surface was really loose and what I really needed to do was get off and walk, but I was about to overtake Rebecca, so I thought I'd keep going.  It was the middle aged equivalent of that teenager thing of riding your bike past a girl's house hoping she's looking out of the window and just as she is, you  ride into a lamp-post.  In both cases a voluntary dismount is probably the sensible option.

Inappropriate uses of a Polka Dot Jersey - Part 4

I'd decided to wear my Polka dot jersey on Day 2.  As well as getting me noticed, and sparking up a few conversations I did get a bit of abuse too.  Not only from Lizzie telling me I looked like a jockey I also got quite a lot of abuse from random passers by.  Mostly Yorkshire's resident senior citizens.  Telling me I was wearing it inappropriately, considering I was in the social group and nowhere near the front on the climbs.  I doubt any of them had ridden up Dent Fell the day before, but I had to admire their knowledge of the significance of the jersey.  By now I was really starting to get into the off road part of the ride, and if any road cyclists went passed us with their teeny tiny tyres and their rubbish rim brakes and their lack of rolling resistance I started thinking 'Look at those losers, they're not even trying'.

The multi-talented Beth.  Cowbell ringer, stunt camerawoman, accommodation arranger and general all round superstar

Although I've done a lot of cycling since 2005, it's always good to experience new stuff. One of the new features on this ride was the cowbells.  In fact, noise pollution seemed to be a constant feature of the ride, if we're coming through a village near you, you're going to know about it.  Also, something I've never had before on rides is a Team Dog, Lizzie and Helen's dog Tilly.

All good teams need a mascot

A lot of my previous rides have featured a token priest, or even on one occasion a token Bishop of Whitby.  On this one we had a token popstar (although his manager / agent Liz tells me he's technically a singer, not a popstar).  Alistair Griffin.  Mariah Carey he is not.  I bet she'd be a nightmare to ride with.  Alistair doesn't have an entourage (although if he ever gets one, I want to be in it).  He appears to get dressed in the dark, just wearing the first 5 items he can find on top of his drawer.   But he's like the opposite of the guys who turn up to Sportives in full Team Sky gear and then fall off on the first hill.  Instead of all the gear no idea, he's none of the gear, but he can really ride.  Although he lacks serious body fat for the flat and for the descents, he's awesome on hills.

Alistair Griffin - the nicest pop star I know (and also the only one)

For some reason Alistair kept videoing me with his Ipad during the trip.  At one point he did a full body sweep of me starting with my one sunburnt leg.  Hopefully he's going to use the footage towards a promotional video for the event, not for his own personal home use.

The lunch stop on Day 2 was at Thornton Watlass where the wonderful sunny weather and the village fete feel of the place summed up everything that's wonderful about being English and living in England.

Could staring at somebody else's cake and really wanting it be considered poor social etiquette? 

We were met there by Lorna the Marie Curie Nurse, who gave us a short talk about how valuable the fund raising part of the ride is, and she gave out some long service awards to people who've done the ride many times before.  Lorna wasn't only the star of the show for the work she does, but she also makes the most amazing cakes.  I only wish I could have eaten more of them.

Su Latham - Top cyclist and fashionista - I used to stand next to her to make myself look better by association

We finished day 2 with a crazy bit of A684 between Brompton and Osmotherley.  In Brompton we were offered hi vis jackets to wear if we wanted them.  To make myself visible from space I put on a hi vis jacket that was about 9 sizes too big.  I tried to ride this section with Susan in case she was nervous in the traffic but she kept leaving me for dead.  She seemed to be powered by jetpack, especially on the descents, whereas I was being slowed down as if I was wearing a hang glider.  Anyway, we made it without any mishaps.

Ali and Lynne - Are you sure we're in Osmotherley?  For a minute there I thought I was on the Champs Elysees

The evening of Day 2 in Osmotherley, had a French theme.  French night got an early start for me, in that the one French person on the trip, Catherine, had been sent to the youth hostel instead of me, and solving the complete room randomisation that followed was like trying to solve Fermat's Last Theorem

Here's Sophie with the rest of her girl band (and Mike)

I tried to help Sophie and Tim out with sorting out the kinks but in the end I just decided to sit on the step and wait.  Steve brought me a cup of tea, and I remember feeling very peaceful and relaxed, and as if nothing really matters.  By failing to try and exercise any control over my own circumstances I ended up with a room to myself.  Sometimes it pays just to go with the flow, and be completely passive and accept your fate.

Speaking of flow, particularly as regards water, some of it would have been useful in the one and only toilet in the hostel annexe we were staying.  The main drawback of getting the room to myself was that it was next to the toilet, so I had to listen to one cyclist after another try in vain to flush away their business.  On the plus side, the hostel had both a TV, and a kettle, so cups of tea were available.

Steve - he makes a lovely cup of tea

The French night itself in Osmotherley Village Hall was another example how much effort people had put in, except for me who had made no effort whatsoever.  Steve had brought a box of moustaches but one of them seemed to have been modelled on Hitler / Charlie Chaplin.  Chris decided to wear this.

Admittedly it's one of his lesser crimes, but Hitler has ruined the wearing of that little mini moustache for everyone.  Chris managed to look quite menacing and authoritarian.  Just as well it wasn't a Prison Guard themed night, it could have got messy.

The French night - Lots of effort from other people except me

Because I wanted to try the transformative effect of fancy dress for myself, I did borrow Steve's beret for a while, and I have to say, it did make me feel both more relaxed and more French at the same time.

Day 3 started for me with a completely unnecessary Full English, then after only 3 miles I stuffed in a Mars bar, to see if the sugar could get to my legs faster than the fat and salt.  Not sure if it worked, or it the legs just warmed up of their own accord.

Osmotherley - non-flushing toilets and unnecessary full Englishes

Day 3 seemed very stop start.  The lunch stop was a bit early (11.20) in Helmsley, but there was some hanging around because the fast group had been sent on an extra loop for a bit more challenge, and it took a while to regroup.

As I sat having lunch, with pickle dripping out of my sandwich onto my burnt legs, trying to coherently discuss the origin of the Universe, the creation of heavier elements inside supernovas and the difficulty of splitting the atom with Rebecca, I wondered what they used to do for charity rides in the first few milliseconds after the Big Bang, when everything was within an infinitely dense point the size of a pea.  No Coast to Coasts in those days.  I guess we're lucky to live in the time and space that we do now, where hills and seas and skies have been invented and we live in a beautiful country where there's not only so much amazing stuff to look at, but bikes have been invented too, so we can get to see it in extra close up.  Even luckier for me, as I got to know some individual blades of grass as they came into contact with my face.  That's the kind of stuff you miss if you can actually ride properly.

Apart from having them try and sort out the hostel room randomiser on Day 3, I hadn't really spent any time with the guides Tim and Sophie, but I spent most of Day 3 with them.  They're like the physical embodiment of youthful energy and exuberance, they seem to have no fat, only muscle and at times they made me reflect on how old, overweight and jaded I can be.  I've heard it said that youth is wasted on the young, but in their case, they seem to be making the most of it, not wasting their twenties sitting at a desk, watching Blind Date, ironing and drinking Fanta, like I did.

Tim and Sophie - can you spot them in this Police line up?

I can be quite a timid cyclist in traffic which is why I quite enjoyed bringing Critical Mass to the town of Pickering.  The guides decided that it would be quicker and safer for all concerned if we rode two (or was it 5) abreast through the town, that way we'd be too wide to overtake but shorter overall.  You can't argue with the maths.  Following as we did the minibus with it's horn permanently on, we totally owned Pickering.  At one point Tim did a passable impersonation of the Incredible Hulk, riding directly at the driver of a 4x4 who was thinking of crossing out paths.  The controlled skid to miss the driver's face by inches using a combination of bike braking and the soles of his shoes was one of the best things I saw on the trip.

As we got closer to Scarborough, I started thinking that health and safety would have a field day with this trip.  This probably occurred to me because I'd just seen Beth hanging out of a moving van window for the millionth time on the trip taking photos with the Ipad.  Considering we live in a world of risk assessments where you need to erect scaffolding to change a lightbulb, it made me really admire the level of organisation required to move such a big group across the country and keep them safe.

Hey Scarborough - we're coming and we're bringing the noise!

I really like it that there are still people out there, who are willing to put all the effort into organising a trip like this (Ruth, Vicky and Beth in particular take a bow, but all the guides and helpers too).  What a responsibility to take a bunch of almost 60 randommers Coast to Coast.

The ride makers - God bless you every one!

As someone who doesn't always like to draw attention to myself in a big crowd, the final ride into Scarborough felt a bit strange.  As we pedalled along the sea front, a giant noisy mob of yellow and fluorescent green, it was like following the camper van from Little Miss Sunshine, with the horn stuck permanently on.

The varying reactions of the people we passed was interesting.  Middle aged white people were definitely the most apathetic.  Some kids on BMXs joined in for a while.  The most enthusiastic waves we got were from several car loads of Indian families.  They're used to the sound of car horns blaring being blown all over the place, they seemed to like noise and colour.  Lots of dogs were barking, God knows what the horn was doing to their delicate hearing, but some of the most fun people to pass were little children.

Getting ready for the last push into Scarborough

Children have no idea what's going on, but they wave anyway. To them, all the noise and the colour must have been like a 3d moving kid's TV programme. To me if felt like In the Night Garden on tour.

Apparently, on In the Night Garden, the characters explore the magical place that exists between waking and sleeping in a child's imagination. I think for me, for 3 days, the magical place between sleeping and waking had been the ride.  The less magical place was the eyes wide open middle of the night feeling of 'why the hell didn't these energy drinks work during the day like they were supposed to'.  

One of the plus points of the ride - Gratuitous hugs

At the end, there was an unnecessary extra lap of a mini roundabout followed by lots of cheering, and then hugs from waiting relatives.  There wasn't anybody there to meet me, so I quickly settled into a pattern of hugs for girls, handshake for boys.  Mostly I restricted myself to one each, but I did build in some gratuitous and unnecessary extra hugs from Sophie (1)  and Rebecca (2).  I didn't go into the sea though.  I had some chocolate milk instead.

Su, Julie and Lynne - some more women who made me look bad on the ride

After the third world lack of running water situation in Osmotherley, the Crown Spa Hotel in Scarborough was something else entirely.  I got a room with another sea view.  It wasn't the same sea as on Friday morning, because we'd now crossed over to the other side.

Some of them loons went and gone in the sea

After check in at the Crown Spa, there was about 20 minutes to get showered and changed before the celebratory meal and then it was the presentation night.  I knew I had no chance of winning King of the Mountains, Sprint Champion, or Best Rider, but I was really hoping to get best newcomer.  Although there are very good reasons why Chris and Lynne shared this award, I still really wanted it.  I had a speech prepared and everything.  In the style of an Oscar also ran I tried to look happy for them and applaud, but I really wanted that white jersey.  You only get one shot at being best newcomer, and I'd blown it.  I got a medal though, and a certificate.

In the end we were all winners (but I still wanted the White Jersey!)

I have a terrible aversion to discos, so as soon as the music got turned up around 11, and those disco lights came on, I pretty much ran away.  I watched the football till nearly 1 and then I went to bed.

I was sharing a room with Steve.  I left a bedside lamp on so he wouldn't fall over on his way into the room, but like an anxious parent I kept waking up from time to time, wondering where he was.  By 5 am I was thinking he must have wandered off into the sea.  I thought about going to look for him, but then just as I was getting up at 6 he wandered in.  He was fine, he'd just been getting smashed on Jaeger bombs and sandwiches for the past 5 hours.

Nice sea view - but where the hell is Steve?  It's 5 in the morning!

I'd been contemplating riding home from Scarborough on Monday, which almost everyone had tried to talk me out of, but my resolve for this was weakened over my third totally unnecessary full English in a row.  Why do I even eat this stuff?  A lucky side effect of sitting next to him at breakfast, was that Paul offered me a lift to just West of York.  This reduced the distance I needed to cycle to only 20 miles.

Alone again - all that's left are memories (and a worrying amount of sugar residue stuck to  the roof of my mouth)

After Paul had dropped me in the village of Askham Bryan, I changed back into my Green Eggs and Ham top and set off for home.  There was no ringing of cowbells, no-one to mark the junction for me, there was no-one launching Mars bars directly into my mouth, there was no van full of Pussy.  I was lost within a minute.  I hadn't needed a brain for 3 days, and now it didn't work.  Luckily I soon found my way again, and although I wasn't exactly what you'd call mentally sharp, my legs seemed to work fine, and I was soon home.

It gets on my nerves in reality TV shows where people say they've been on a journey, when what they really mean is that they've mostly been hanging around the house practising their singing.  Well, this weekend I really did go on a journey.

Marie Curie Coast to Coasters - Way better than Avengers Assemble

When it comes to being positive in life, I need all the help I can get.  Thankfully by some fluke I've managed to hang out for the last few days with one of the most positive groups of people ever assembled.  Life affirming doesn't even begin to describe it.  They made the Avengers who got assembled in Avengers Assembled look like also rans.

I really hope that some of it has rubbed off on me.




PS.  I hope you enjoyed reading this (I enjoyed writing it).  There's still time to donate to Marie Curie if you want to.  Here's a link to my Justgiving page

PPS.  Thanks to everyone whose pictures I borrowed to help me pad out this ride report.  Reggie and Lynne in particular but there are others, I just lost track of what came from where.