I remember when I was about 13 or 14 I did a sportive with my Dad, I think my second ever. We were warned that the route was a bit confusing at a key point but I’m not great with directions and just thought I’d follow my Dad.
However the first part of the route was flat and people were really barrelling along. I, being a light climber type (I wouldn’t call myself “fast” on the flat now but back then I really really wasn’t and was only interested in going uphill), lost a bit of ground.
Being separated from the group, I missed the tricky bit in the middle. They looped back and I saw them briefly- at this point I should have crossed the road to them and got back in tow- but my sense of pride and fairness compelled me to continue and not to cut off any of the route.
Well, I thought I was on the right lines but I was not. I got onto a duel carriageway for a while and hit a pothole and lost my back light. (This was an evening ride by the way.) I eventually found my way back to somewhere I knew after several hours and was well pleased to see a nearby town on a road sign (Skipton I think).
I was really whacked by now, nothing to eat or drink for a while. I remembered I should ring home to let them know I was on my way back (I wasn’t carrying my phone). At the first house I knocked at and asked politely if I could use the phone, the man gave me a very suspicious look and then said “no, sorry”, and shut the door. I thought this a bit unkind- I was there in my gear and with my bike, and looking pretty far from a dangerous robber but I suppose some people just don’t like to lend a hand.
The next house let me use their phone and offered me water and a bar to eat so that was a much better result. It was getting late and Mum said she had sent a friend out in their car to look for me at this point!
I set off again and came over Howarth moor at just before 1am, which was quite an interesting experience, quite nice. Having no rear light wasn’t ideal but there was almost no one around, and I got off the road when I saw a car coming. Got back very tired but quite happy and Dad was looking suitably sheepish as he’d been well-chastised by mum about the incident.
A fairly minor story but it’s one of those things you remember with a fond nostalgia.