The day looked very promising. As I went to breakfast at the ‘Rothman’s 17th century downstairs parlour, the weather ‘app’ was telling me that it would be cloudy at worst and sunny at best as I made my way to London during the day. I was packed and on the bike by 8:50am, taking the Galleywood Road which started just a few hundred meters from ‘Rothmans’, which I noticed when I walked up there last night for dinner. The Galleywood Road was basically the old ‘London’ Road which pleasantly took me out of Great Baddow and through some rural landscape for several kilometers.
The road eventually met the B1002 at Margetting, and I basically stayed on this road or whatever it became the closer I got to London. While that sounds easy, there were many places where I had either lost it, when going through towns for example, or when it came into large round-a-bouts and other highways and signs were pointing motorists in a multiple of directions. My road cut over the A12 and then back again, heading through Ingateston and Mountnessing, all the time descending into Brentwood. It was at Brentwood that I lost the B1002 due to bad signage and multiple options of street corners. I had to stop and ask twice before getting underway again.
The B1002 had now become the A1023 out of Brentwood, and was soon to join up with the A12 for a short stint, which I wasn’t looking forward to. However, just out of Brentwood, the A12 and A1023 met the M25 in a massive round-a-bout that had roads in all directions. I took the wrong exit and couldn’t believe it – I ended up on the M25, the only series of Motorway in Britain where cyclists are forbidden. Some helpful motorists were telling me the obvious. My serious problem was what to do about it. I had gone at least 1k when I made the decision to turn around and ride back against the screaming traffic. I at least had a wide apron, but it didn’t feel like fun. The only real risk was going back down the ramp that was feeding the M25, without an apron!. Anyway, I made it!
I was now on the A12 to Harold Wood and took the A118 exit to Havering, and the world’s largest oblong round-a-bout with about 6 exits feeding traffic off to all points in Britain. Negotiating across lanes to miss the first few exits, I hammered my way into the traffic as if I was a car – it seems to get more respect that way, and came out the other side still on the A118 on my way to Ilford. At Ilford I saw Maccas, and needing a nature break, bought some coffee and sent a message to Julie to say I was surviving okay and would be at Tower Bridge by noon. It was currently about 11am. Sadly at Maccas I noticed that my rear tyre was soft again, and it wasn’t a great feeling. The sun had come out momentarily, but it was now feeling like rain was on the way.
I pumped the tyre hoping I might survive for a few more hours, but that wasn’t the case. I was closing on London, the A118 eventually becoming the A11 as it converged with other main roads on the centre of London. I must say the English have been very good with doing their best to make these roads safer for cyclists with a marked cycle path even if it shares the same lane with cars and buses. I had learned these past two days to cycle like a Londoner, to ride as if I was a car, join the throng and ride with confidence and a lot of bravado. It is not for everyone. It certainly keeps tension levels high and all senses on full alert.
I hit another square ‘round-a-bout’ at Newham/West Ham, and was surprised then to be cycling right down the centre of Mile End, which is the historic district which was the birthplace of The Salvation Army, beginning with a humble then Reverend William Booth who started a one man ministry in a park at Mile End Waste, which led to the start of the East End London Mission, and became so large as it spread out of the East End, to become the Christian Mission, and because he said it was no ‘Volunteer Army’, he crossed off ‘Volunteer’ and replaced it with ‘Salvation’.
I stopped at Lights in Mile End, to be delighted to be opposite the Blind Beggars Inn, outside of which William Booth preached many a time, and knew then that I was within 30 metres of Booth’s bust statue in what used to be Mile End Waste but which is a small strip of park preserved where Mile End waste used to be. I stopped for photos. Ironically, I was trying to take a ‘selfie’ with William Booth’s statue, and I dropped the iPhone and it went dead! I couldn’t believe it. I now had no phone, which was going to guide me through from Tower Bridge to Sunbury. The tyre was almost flat, but I worked on a plan of pumping it now every few kilometers!
Within minutes it seems, I was standing on Tower Bridge, now with only my pocket camera, taking the historic photo of the loaded bike and the Bridge. Tourists are nice. Several asked if they could take the photo with me in it. Another was so excited about my loaded bike, he was taking photos of me as I rode away across the famous bridge. I will never see them.
I was at the 56k mark. There was no easy way to get to Sunbury, which is beyond Hampton court on the south west outside the fringe of London. I simply turned right over the bridge, and knew that as long as I didn’t cross the Thames until Kingston on Thames, some 30k away, but kept it close on my right hand side, I could eventually find my way. I had noted the numbers of some of the key roads between the bridge and Kingston. To cut a very long story short, I managed to eventually pick up signs to Kingston, but in that 20-30k was some of the toughest traffic conditions, wet weather and major round-a-bouts of the last two days.
I became so frustrated re-pumping the bike more frequently now, that I pulled over on the footpath, unloaded everything, and changed the tube. It lost 15 minutes, but in the end was the best decision. It lasted all the way.
I ended up in Wimbledon Common on muddy tracks, but all the time closing on Kingston, with the Thames still on my right (although I never saw the Thames since Tower Bridge, and until I finally crossed the Bridge at Kingston on Thames).
It was with huge relief that by about 2:45pm, I rolled into the main street of Kingston, and judging by the signs, all I had to do was stay on the main road and it would take me over the bridge and on my way to Sunbury if I followed the same road.
It was great to stop on the bridge and take photos, knowing there was no more need to feel lost. I rolled off the bridge with still about 8k to go. Eventually I pulled up outside Hampton Court to ask a lady on a bike about Sunbury. She pointed in the almost opposite direction to where I was headed, she said that I was about to re-cross the Thames again! It is easy to confuse the roads!
Within 2k with my fresh directions, I turned the bike into Lower Sunbury Road, which ran along the Thames. It was a great joy, I must say, to eventually see the beautiful ‘Sunbury Court’, the mansion that was purchased over a hundred years ago (I must check this) but which has been a central place of honour in the life of The Salvation Army, the place where the world leaders gather for the election of the General, and now the place for the International College for Officers. It was also the place of Julie’s 2nd conference in 3 weeks.
I rolled up to the main gate. The voice of the smiling security guard said “Are you Major Julie’s husband, Major Kelvin? I replied ‘Yes mate, it certainly is’. “Welcome”, he said. “We’ve been waiting for you”!
With that, I rolled the bike in, parked it against the small pillar outside the historic Sunbury Court, and took the final official photo of the tour. I turned off the GPS at 87k for the day, probably the hardest days riding of all the tour, certainly the most traumatic.
The great tour that started with a thought, through three countries, four major rivers, countless cities, towns and villages, having met hundreds of lovely gracious strangers along the way, and endured very cold to freezing days all the way…..was now concluded.
There is something of an anti-climactic feeling when you come down so quickly from the high adrenalin of a day like I had just had, to knowing that this great adventure was now over and within a day I would be packed and on my way home.
Tonight I dined with some wonderful Salvation Army people from all over the world, all curious about my tales of what has been the greatest bike adventure of them all.
From my lovely warm room at Sunbury Court in London, with Julie I send our love. I will write a concluding note for the blog, but want to thank all those people who have sent encouraging messages, and followed the blog and/or the Facebook notes along the way. It is amazing how much difference that has made.
No comments:
Post a Comment