We said farewell to Martyn today. He had only intended to be with us until half-way through day 4 but, after Day 3s drama and concern for us over Storm Floris, he decided to stay on at his own expense. Malcolm and I cannot express how grateful we are to him. Malcolm and I maybe riding but Martyn is an essential part of our team. Martyn has been a hero in our eyes and, as with JogChi 2018, now produces an almost Pavlovian response in us of relief when we see him, as he is always at the end of our journey and represents rest to us… but he was not at the end of our journey today and we missed him.
Before I forget, I should like to thank a number of other people. Martyn himself has paid for much of our accommodation for this Roman Roads Challenge, as has his daughter, Harriet, my mother, Clare Apel, and my friend we are meeting tonight in London, Kieron. We must also thank Kateryna from The Guilty Cyclist in Crane Street, Chichester, for sponsoring our nutrition and generously paying to have our bikes serviced by, Alex, from Fettle, who was so patient and accommodating. My friend Dale has leant me the laptop on which I now write because it is powerful enough to edit videos too. My daughter, Jess, has taken care of my Instagram account and made the material I have given her far more engaging than I could ever do. And, of course, thank you to anyone who has donated any amount whatsoever. If I’ve forgotten anyone, I shall try to remedy this in the final blogs.
After saying goodbye to Martyn, we headed through the busy streets of Lincoln under a bright sky that had just enough cloud cover to be refreshing. The road south was heaving at first but, with no noticeable, busy off-routes it thinned significantly over the 11 miles we rode that gently undulating road.
As always, Malcolm was ahead but a need to fix my panniers and a Gentleman’s Rest Break, meant that when I took the road again, I could not see him. Stupidly, I hadn’t even downloaded the route onto my phone. However, Malcolm and I have this understanding that should one of us vanish, it means continue on that route until you come across the person in front, as in ‘Don’t panic. I’ll stop and wait for you when we have to take a new road’. Sure enough, 11 miles in, Malcolm’s fluorescent top hove into view on top of a hill. I pedaled up to the hill. No Malcolm. No fluorescent top. Was I now starting to see mirages? A couple of miles later, a fluorescent top and the man himself waiting at the next junction. He had been waiting on top of that hill but, when he saw me in the valley, he continued on. No mirages and no seeing things. Chalk that up as a win.
Malcolm has started interviewing himself. If you have seen the film ‘The Commitments’, it is in a similar manner to the main characters. According to his demographic of one, he is very engaging but he has been surprised by the direction some of the interviewing questions take and this has led to epiphanies about his character, such as sometimes he needs to be more firm with others. I have certainly been questioning myself the last few days: Why are you doing this? When will it stop? Why are you doing this?… But I have not gone down the full interview mode yet. Now he’s implanted that idea in my mind, I envision a full interview in the pipeline today, although I haven’t done any preparation for it!
We were then led down quiet country lanes to the attractive town of Sleaford. Malcolm managed to make the traffic lights before they turned red; I did not. A couple of minutes later, I saw him on a small traffic island. Apparently, not wanting to take his foot out of his toe-clips, he had fallen onto the traffic island. Three sets of people had gone to help him. As with what he learned about his character in the interview with himself, it seems that not putting his foot down seems to be a recurring problem with Malcolm. I think Sleaford have renamed the traffic island The Fool’s Landing.
We stopped for coffee in the continental-looking square in Sleaford and then continued on into lovely country roads of flat, agricultural Lincolnshire that were almost entirely devoid of cars. For about an hour-and-a-half we cycled and only encountered about a dozen vehicles. The only issue for me was that the clouds had burned up and the sun was blazing. Malcolm loves the heat but I am more of a shade guy – I must remember to tell my interviewer late.
Emma Stutz, an old university friend who I haven’t seen in person for over three decades, heard about the challenge and because we were going so close to her, we arranged to meet both Emma and her partner, David, not far from Stamford in a little village called West Deeping. Komoot had other ideas. Keeping us safe from that busy B-road, we were led through estates for half-a-mile to return to the busy B-road about 200 yards from where we had left it. Keeping us safe from that busy B-road, she then led us on a massive right-angle through the countryside to return to the busy B-road a quarter-of-a-mile from where we had left it.
Whilst traveling through one Lincolnshire town, I thought the car I was following had parked and come to a stop. Only as I passed it did I realize it was waiting for another car to come by who was about 60 yards away. I apologized to both drivers with a wave but the woman in the oncoming car gave me a rant of words that are largely Anglo-Saxon in origin – certainly post-Roman. Most of the car drivers we have encountered have been great and, if we are holding back traffic, Malcolm and I pull over at a safe place to let them pass. However, there have been a group of drivers who seem to go from neutral to incandescent in seconds with us and sometimes for no discernible reason, other than – I guess – that we are cyclists and deemed to be in their way. Other car drivers can remain in the bubble of their own windows and metal, screened from anything but gestures and muffled invective; cyclists are out in the open and, therefore, I wonder, if it is because they are sure that their insults hit their mark, the drivers let loose.
We were late meeting up with Emma and David but they had generously bought us food and drink. Emma is one of those friends who you don’t see for decades and yet can talk to her as if you only saw her last week. I must not leave it so long again.
Then we were out onto the lanes of South Lincolnshire and Cambridgeshire with a late afternoon sun that seemed even more fierce than it had at noon. The first 5 miles were pleasant enough but, around Peterborough, weariness kicked in. We were shadowing the A1(M) on these amazing ghost roads either side of it that were almost entirely empty of traffic. The riding was not bad but there was very little wildlife – I guess the motorways kettle them in to smaller spaces – and the noise of the busy road was constant and the air had a grimy texture to it. Those last 12 to 15 miles were hard and our legs are not nearly as strong on these last stages as they were at the start of the challenge. My left foot cleat no longer engages with the pedal, which makes going uphill hard and we limped into our hotel with almost nothing left in the tank.
I am so weary now that I cannot gain a perspective on the challenge any more but am beginning to lose heart with it. This is almost certainly due to the fact that exhaustion is now deep-seated within my body, it feels part of my fabric now when I wake in the morning. I am also feeling disappointed with myself that I could not get the vlogs out everyday. However, trying to eat, sleep, blog and then edit videos, as well as cycle was always going to be foolish. However, part of the disillusionment comes from the lack of success with the challenge so far: its primary purpose is to raise money for these two charities, after all. I was always wary of setting the high target of £20,000 but was advised to by someone who works for a charity; I would be delighted if we made half that. I am also incredibly grateful to anyone who has sponsored us any amount. However, with JogChi in 2018 we managed to raise over £12,000. The Roman Roads Challenge is harder, not least because we are older, and we have raised about a third of that sum. I am fully aware that times are hard for many people but I also fully appreciate how much expense and effort has gone into Roman Roads from others. Of course, many people might be waiting for us to finish the challenge and, to be honest, after Day 3 and 4, we are not going to complete 1000 miles, although it will be well over 900, so this might also be a factor.
If this comes across as pleading or berating or self-pity, I am sorry, it really is not supposed to do so. As I have already said, exhaustion means that I am finding it hard to find perspective now. I am incredibly grateful to anyone who has sponsored us or read the blog or watched the videos, but I would be lying if I said that this is not a part of my mindset now. The Roman Roads Challenge does not seem to have fired the imagination of many others, the social media experiment to engage others does not seem to have worked and, as I am the one who thought of the Challenge, I feel I have to own its failings too. That, along with the broken cleat and the fact that Youtube doesn’t want to upload my videos, only makes the riding harder.
Malcolm is bolstering my spirits and I look forward to seeing one of my best friends, Kieron, today. Maybe good company and the thought of one day to go after today will see me through and lift me home? I hope so.
Thanks again.
Rogues of the Roman Roads 