Wednesday Jan 12 Punctures : 1 Sea dips : 0 Nights away : 0
I intended my first ride to be a slow, flat couple of days, stopping over midway in Southend. I was still recovering from a bout of covid and wanted to take it very easy. I couldn’t really see what could go wrong, I was only going to Essex. Famous last words! The day was to end with me on a train back to London, covered in heavy clay-like mud and my new gilet (my favourite Christmas present) torn to shreds.
Rewind to the start of the day. I left London on a stunning morning. Riding over Tower Bridge with all the commuter traffic I just had to stop to take a photo of the sun rising over the Docklands. I was excited. Even though I intended to ride around Britain in sections to avoid being away for home for extended periods, it still felt like the beginning of an adventure. I was making time to explore my own country and see the little nooks and crannies that wouldn’t normally feature in a typical holiday.
My first puncture of the trip hit within a couple of hours alongside the A13. It took nearly an hour to fix with supertight tyres, exploding valves and a struggle to get the rear wheel to sit straight once it was finally fixed. Even so, the delay didn’t affect my mood and I was soon pedalling off again, leaving the sprawl of East London behind.
From Rainham Marches I hugged the Thames as closely as I could, having to carry my bike over the sea wall near Tilbury and push along sections of very muddy track covered in litter. I loved looking out across the water and seeing the sky meet the land – I’d really missed that sense of space during lockdown. Part industrial, part nature reserve, the Thames estuary was beautiful.
I stopped mid afternoon for a Subway sandwich, even though I reckoned it was probably less than 30km to the Premier Inn in Southend where I planned to spend the night. In hindsight this was a very good decision given what happened next. I will always eat when hungry in future…
So, by subway sandwich time I was getting bored with the busy Essex roads that stayed inland from the sea. The traffic travelled thick and fast in both directions and my bike was holding things up. Near Canvey Island I decided to reroute and take a more scenic path. Google maps suggested crossing a railway line (I had to carry my bike over 2 stiles to do this) and joining a track that ran alongside the railway line towards Hadleigh Castle. At first it seemed like a great decision. The track was bumpy and muddy but I’d fitted my bike with wide, chunky tyres and it was coping well. Even when the field turned into a marsh and my bike was pretty much submerged I was still happy. It was fun trying to stay upright. At one point I did wonder whether I should start to mount towards the castle and find drier ground but then I batted away my mounting concerns and decided to hold course – the road was only a couple of miles further on.
A little further on things really started to go pear shaped. The field became muddier and muddier. It was thick, clay-like mud that stuck to everything and caught between my wheels and forks in large clods, slowing everything down. Eventually my wheels stopped turning altogther. I tried to push but the wheels were jammed. Carrying my bike wasn’t option as it was heavy and I was sliding around in the mud with no traction. I tried scooping away handfuls of mud in an attempt to clear my wheels but it was hopeless as within seconds of renewed pushing they were completely clogged up again. The sun was starting to set so I decided turning back the way I had come, through the field and then the marsh, wasn’t a good idea either. Instead I continued my pushing/mud scooping for another half an hour before dragging my bike up towards some brambles where I hoped the ground might be a little drier. It was very slow progress. If I hadn’t had eaten the Subway sandwich I think the sugar low would have seen me lie down in the field and phone for help (if I could have dialled out with my muddy fingers…).
Luckily, though, I had eaten and there was an overgrown path through the brambles. No one had been this way in a long time. I pushed my bike ahead of me to try to break a trail, preferring the rips and scratches to the mudfest a few metres away. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to get my bike out of the field before it was dark and formed plan B – if necessary I would leave it and come back in daylight. How on earth had I got into this situation on day 1? I couldn’t believe it but kept pushing forward as the light faded. Finally, I did find a drier (and bramble free) path up towards the roadand eventually I dragged my bike the final few metres to emerge onto the pavement from the bushes. Two guys who were cycling by stopped to check I was ok when they saw the state I was in (pulling yet more clods off my bike). Luckily it was a short 5 minutes downhill to Leigh-on-Sea station so I assured them I was fine. There was no way I could check into a Premier Inn given the amount of mud I was covered in and I didn’t fancy putting my trainers on again in the morning. The train ride back to London seemed like the only sensible decision. I was shaken and on autopilot. I saw the guys again at the bottom of the hill by the station – they had waited to double check that I really was ok. People are so kind.
So my day finished with me standing with my bike in the train carriage, looking like we’d both been dragged out of a swamp, which I guess we had. I was scratched and bleeding but very relieved to be out of the field with my bike before nightfall. I hadn’t expected to have an adventure so early on and so close to home. Cycling back in such a state from Fenchurch Street station was surreal!
Cycle Round Britain 