Wow that was cold. I did the first half in "only" three-and-a-half layers - thermal base layer, short-sleeved middle and thick long-sleeved top, plus hi-vis gilet for token extra warmth - and long tights, shoe covers, winter gloves, skull cap and woolly buffy thing. I thought I was adequately warm, but the combination of quite a lot of waiting around, the Badlands at glacial place (inevitably) and dropping temperatures finished me off. After getting thoroughly chilled during the break despite a cup of coffee I put on every other item of clothing I had with me - a second thick long-sleeved top and a showerproof and windproof coat.
Fortunately while I was outside gathering extra layers I didn't spot that the Badlands had given me a puncture. Fortunately because it meant that the second half of the ride was (a) much more continuous, and (b) basically a solitary affair. I'm a grumpy anti-social sort ("grumpy", I can hear P&L regulars say, "surely not"), and rather like riding alone, even among such wonderful company.
I'd carefully wormed my way to the front of the pack for Lonesome Lane, and began seeing why it's raved about. My first transit was spent trying to ensure that someone else didn't come up my inside (oo-er missus), and my second was an altogether more stately affair on the tandem. But this time I was able to stretch my legs out and take advantage of the empty roads.
The puncture (thanks to Tim for his expert fettling, and sorry that my brain couldn't work out what I was supposed to do) meant that I was riding almost entirely alone up to the top of Turner's Hill. A short stop there, and I was on my way down my personal favourite bit of the course, down to Lindfield. That is seriously good riding - a wide road with good visibility, and even better - downhill. Having learned my lesson I didn't try and keep up with any particular group on the extraordinary new detour to Ditchling. Extraordinary not just for the lovely roads but also for the spectacular view of the dawn to the left.
The beacon itself was, well, the beacon. A long slog with some tantilising glimpses of the full glory of the view. Those photos of zigzag's do give a pretty good impression. I just stood there and drank it in.
One full English later (no beans, extra bacon, with hash) and it was on to a black unbeer. Many thanks to Adrian for taking the trouble to make a special trip. Despite being essentially on the wagon I couldn't resist a decent quality brown beer (even if Greene King took two of the signature smells of my childhood - malting and brewing - away from Abingdon) for a special occasion. That was probably my slowest ever pint. I think Suzie's elucidation of her sex education technique will stick in my memory the longest...
I think I'm now going to mothball the bike for the winter. If last night was too cold, I'm certainly not going to risk another FNRttC until the spring. I also suspect that long bike-rides, however much I love them, aren't particularly suitable for my weight-loss goals - I almost inevitably eat about as much as I expend in doing the event. I hope to return, (even) slimmer and well-rested, sometime next year.
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