0945, and I'm off to Hayes station to collect Oliver. Despite a regular cycle commute, its his first proper ride down to Brighton, and he's leaning on me to support / show him the way.
Fair enough. We've a 10am start, so I grab the commute pannier (essentials as standard) and head out. A few minutes later, I roll up to the station and its immediately clear that everything is going to be OK. There's Dodo, and behind a lens is TopCat. No evidence of Oliver, but we're still early. Home is all of 4 minutes behind me, so we've time to wait...
A few minutes later, Dellzeqq pops up on the station concourse. If we were safe before, we are now nigh invincible. Still a bit shy on Olivers though, and no response on his mobile. It occurs to me that it wouldn't be terribly unlike Oliver to have a last minute diversion, and I wonder if he's called my home number with an update. Darn. I didn't check the machine before I left. Hmm.. Almost ten past the hour. Right. Wait here guys, I'll be back in a few mins. Dave, have a whizz. Costa will do it.
10 minutes pass. I bungee home. No new messages. Back to the station. And there they are. The massed Evelyn Rahrs in all their luggage toting splendour. Oliver and Dad (Chris) look like they're load testing for Tenzing Norgay. Edwin (brother to Oliver, son to Chris) looks like a one man paramedic team. Fair on, he's a medical student in Brighton, but the twin red panniers, about 50 litres a piece, topped with a rucksack, catheter, and grin contrast nicely with the frowns and stuffed pockets around him.
Mum (Alison) is fussing around, and generally trying to ply the team with anecdotes, food, and yet more clothing.
Its half past by the time we actually manage to clamber out from under her wing, and I still don't have any idea of the pace we might keep. At this point, the plan is escort all to Brighton for around 3pm, treat the team to food at The Madeira, then do a quick spin back home with the CC guys for an even hundred. All seems achievable.
Off, and as we start to climb Layhams Road, I realise we're barely clipping 5 mph.
The CC crew adjust beautifully, and we fan out into conversational groups of newcomer and sponsor. We head on towards the masts at Titsey, regrouping before the descent with a few warnings about surface, speed, and s-bends. Next time we're at this height, we'll be atop the Beacon.
We survive the descent into Limpsfied (though Simon gets a bit skippy on the way down) and stretch into a leisurely pace under the M25 towards Haxted, Lingfield and beyond.
A quick query about trains from Oxted is dismissed, and Brighton is targeted. We're not fast, but we are determined.
By the time we reach New Chapel, its half twelve, the sun is out in full. We're about to convene with the FNRttC route to Brighton, and as one o'clock comes around I start to recognise the gradients (but not sights) of Turners Hill. Odd to be here in day light, but good to be surrounded by familiar faces. Some lunatic parks up half on the kerb next to our bikes, but he's wearing Adrian's head so its ok.
It takes around 15 minutes to regroup. Edwin had parked up and wandered back down the hill to encourage Chris' ascent, only somehow Chris had managed to appear at the top without having passed him. Further phone calls are made. I fail to observe an emerging pattern. Until Edwin returns, we have more bikes than people and are in fairly dire need of food. Fearing having to approach Brighton in the dark, I daren't let them set up the picnic they're sure to have brought. I can imagine jugs of lemonade, tablecloths, folding chairs all somewhere in those panniers.
Simon does a recon to Ardingly chasing memories of a cafe (now closed) and we find ourselves promising to stop at the Lindfield Co-Op. This is 6 (mostly downhill) miles away, and won't take more than half an hour to reach.
Passing the pub on the way down, we spot a chalkboard proclaiming cake and a coffee. Ownership is either The Bent Arms (no apostrophe unfortunately) or the cafe behind (no welcome either) but we're not discouraged.
Adam's cash wins them over, and around ten to two we all sit down to a treat of soup and caffeine. Huge thanks, mate.
The soup recharges the Evelyn Rahrs, and an hour later we set off again. Brighton by three is looking fairly unlikely, and a few more phone calls are made to nudge things around a little. Simon has paperwork to shuffle, and regrettably shoots for Haywards Heath and home.
We have a couple of hours of daylight left, so push on to Slugwash at around 15mph. I'm up front with Adam and Edwin, Oliver parks up on the corner with Lewes Road to wait for the Chris and Dave. All seems good, then somehow, Edwin, self and Adam realise we're in Wivelsfield, and nobody else is....
Collated team were last seen 12 minutes back at the top of Slugwash. There are no turnings... Right? Phones ring off. 15 minutes pass. Unless they missed Slugwash. Another 15 minutes. We get word back from Dave. He's following Chris, who's following Oliver, who's following the A272. Well, that's good, but its not where we are.
At this point, I'll put my hand up. I'm ride leader. Lost riders are my fault. Apologies guys.
Dave makes a plan to bring Chris and Oliver into Brighton on the '23. With the exception of the heavier traffic, this is probably a better route. Flatter, certainly.
I give thanks for Dave being with them, and promise to meet all in The Madeira. Once the strategy is proven secure, Adam departs for home. Its quarter to four, and we've been in overtime for a while.
Edwin and I swing right, head through Streat and Westmeston, sneaking alongside the beacon via the Foliage/Cleavage ensign.
At 20 past four, the climb begins. I realise a little too late that I'm still carrying Chris' rucksack, one of Edwin's panniers, my own kit, plus clothing for a small army. The bike feels awfully light on the front end, but the wheels stay planted and its all worth it to see Edwin's smile when he crests a few minutes later.
Up and over the golf course and that's it. No more hills, and precious more England. I send a text to Dave and Oliver, then kick off a descent against the fading light into Brighton which sees us hit the Madeira just after they close.
Bizarrely, Dave, Chris and Oliver are already there. Faced with starving troops, We do the indecent thing and head into the Seagull. Dave keeps honour intact, and shoots for home before I can coax him over the threshold.
The ride home doesn't happen. Instead I spend a very pleasant few hours basking in the Evelyn Rahr's obvious delight at having made it, and promising to pass their extreme thanks to Dave, Adam and Simon for their patience, company and assistance.
For my side, back to the drawing board on "how to lead a ride" I feel, but I have the best to learn from. You lot were awesome, of course, and despite the issues I think we'll see at least some of the Evelyn Rahrs on another ride fairly soon.
Andy.
On a technical note, there will be video, I hope. The little VIO kept itself alive all the way down (some 7 hours) so I've got to make some fairly hefty tweaks to frame rates before I can even think about playing it back. Somewhere around 50 x normal speed should do it, which means I may as well have used the interval shot still frames 
