Oxford to Cambridge BHF ride

By Andy Brooke

Rides that go in one direction rather than in a circuit must be a nightmare to organise but I can say without fear of contradiction that this was the best-organised ride I have ever been on. I know that statement sounds like the end of something rather than the beginning but hopefully it just emphasises how enjoyable this ride was even considering the inauspicious start.

A large number of determined cyclists took part in the third annual British Heart Foundation Oxford to Cambridge Bike Ride on Sunday 24 September, with a record 1470 cyclists registered, 9 of which were 45 Road Club members, and the organisers were hoping to beat the record breaking figure of £100,000 raised in last years event. 

Our weekend started off on Friday night with the packing of the bikes into a van, kindly loaned for the weekend, by Kevin and Nicola Glendinning. This was just the beginning of a logistical tour de force organised by Simon and John Crisp. I must admit to feeling a bit apprehensive about leaving the Colnago in a van over the weekend because the next time we would see the bikes would be on Sunday at a car park near the Botley interchange in Oxford. However I needn’t have worried at all because the bikes were treated with kid gloves, cosseted royally with blankets so that they arrived in Oxford in exactly the same condition as they had left.

I was driven down in Richard Garon's car with Bill Mitchell. John Crisp would be driving Simon Crisp, Stuart Wright and Phil Hudson. Also as passengers in the cars were Richards’s wife Margaret and John’s wife Jean who would be driving the cars back to Doddington and then picking us up from Cambridge later. Simon Fitzhugh had a lift with Kevin in the van and Nicola was doing the return driving for them. So all in all we would have been stuffed if it weren’t for the wives, we were all very grateful for the time and assistance they had given us on the day just so that we could pursue our hobby (selfish men that we are) enough crawling.

In Doddington the weather was overcast but dry, we got to Northampton and the spots started to appear on the windscreen and we could see the big black clouds on the horizon. By the time we had got onto the A40 the sky let loose a veritable torrent of rain, my heart sank. The event was due to start between 7 and 9am, we had hoped to get there to start at 8am

We sat in the car for 10 minutes waiting for the rain to stop before we got out; we watched as Kevin and Simon started to unpack the bikes; we still sat there as John’s car drew up and they all got out to take their bikes from the van. We weren’t even considering getting out until the last possible moment before we were off. Then Bill noticed that the sky seemed to be clearing, a patch of blue just big enough to make a sailor a pair of trousers, it was still very wet but hopefully it might not be a total washout.

With the bikes unpacked we made our way into the city, the water spraying up from the wheels soaking the shorts and shoes and giving you a shamy that would cling like a wet nappy all day.  For the first time the event started amidst the historic spires of Broad Street in the centre of Oxford, a nice place to start the 85-mile route linking the two great university cities. 

There were numerous marshals and because we had signed on beforehand we just needed to hand over our tickets to get a route map and be on our way. Well we might have got on our way had it not been for the first puncture of the day, Phil picked up a shard of glass in his tyre and it left quite a large split, which was quickly fixed, and then we were off.

The pace was steady, John wanted to complete the ride at about 15 - 16mph average, so we rolled along chatting and avoiding the large puddles as the hazy sun slowly broke through the clouds.  Due to John’s desire to keep this steady pace we had to allow groups of cyclists to pass us and even when they had done so, and their pace was not much more than ours, we were still reined back and not permitted to latch on and get a nice tow, even when the those dictating the pace were sitting at the back and not riding on the front taking the breeze and doing all of the work

The number of shopper bikes old mountain bikes and heavily laden touring bikes that passed by as we had to put our brakes on to make sure we weren’t going too fast was disturbing, but I didn’t want to ruin the unity of the group by pounding on ahead so I bit my lip and carried on (how far can I put my tongue in my cheek) I bet John will have something to say about this bit

We rode along the country roads and through the villages of Oxfordshire. First Islip then Merton and Ambrosden, onto Blackthorn and across the county boundary into Buckinghamshire. We then went on to Marsh Gibbon and Steeple Claydon where, after a steep climb, we stopped for a drink at the Phoenix pub. After that we rode to Middle Claydon and on to Winslow, just after this I had my first puncture. It was a rear tyre flat and I thought I might be able to ride it to Swanbourne where we were going to stop at the café for a cup of tea. I didn’t manage to get there before the tyre was too flat to ride and I was in danger of damaging both the tyre and the rim, so I stopped at the bottom of the hill before the village, not wanting anyone to miss out on valuable tea drinking time I said that I would meet everyone at the cafe in Swanbourne after I had mended the puncture.  One new tube and a spent co2 cartridge later and I was on my bike and riding into the village. Now at this point I have to mention that I have only been to this cafe once, it was a long time ago and this time I was coming at it from a different direction. I rode into the village and out the other side with no sign of the rest of the group. I thought to myself that I must have missed them, so back I went into the village and down another turning thinking that the cafe must have been on a back road in the village. Still no sign of them, I eventually stopped a car and asked the couple inside where the café was, they told me that I had already passed it and that it was closed.  I rode back round to the café and it was closed and still no sign of anyone. So much for the unity of the group!  I continued on thinking that for the next few miles I would have to get into time trailing mode and suffer purgatory as I tried to catch up with them, but just as I was coming out of the village I saw Simon, Phil and Kevin who had come back to see where I had got to, my saviours, I was not to suffer alone.

Kevin sat on the front and gradually wound up the pace until everyone was on the rivet, pushing on the pace for 3 or 4 miles, all of us gasping for air and wondering how long we could keep this up. We didn’t have to wait too long to find out, on a sharp right hand turn I got my second puncture, this time a front and luckily it had just enough air so that I did not loose control on the corner.

I stood in the sun next to a wall and fixed it with a self-adhesive patch and Kevin’s pump to keep my remaining good tube and co2 cartridge for later, it was nice to have the company this time.

We filled our bottles with water from the marshal on the corner and carried on to Stoke Hammond and then the Three Locks, which is where the appropriately named Three Locks Pub was situated. As this was approximately half way most riders were getting some lunch. In the pub the bar was full and they had put out a special expensive sandwich menu for the riders who had not thought to bring a packed lunch. The others had ordered and were eating by the time we arrived. This made a nice place to stop and watch the canal boats negotiate the locks and see cyclists trying to find an area to eat their food; outside all of the tables and walls were full and they were even resorting to eating on the lock gates, which were in use at the time. 

I decided not to eat proper food and had a can of Red Bull and an energy bar instead. When John and the others had finished their food they decided to leave before Simon, Phil and Kevin had a chance to get their food, huumm riding as a group ehh. I felt mean for my next decision, which was to leave with them and take it easy for the next leg of the journey, rather than having to chase the gap back again. To leave my earlier saviours was such a black hearted and foul deed that it will be carried with me, as a scar.

I knew the next section was going to be slightly lumpy, around the Brickhill’s and on to Woburn because we were informed by a lady, handing out the maps at the start of the ride, that last years event included the steep climb through Bow Brickhill. If you haven’t tried this minor road it is worth seeking out and giving it a go. It is the only turn in the centre of the village and it takes you through the Aspley Heath, which is also a nice area for walks and mountain bike rides.

This little treat was missed this year but we still went up and down some long drags. We continued on through a section of Woburn Park and John tried the old, you have got to keep your eyes on the lions trick. This is a good one to play on young children if you are in a car; and for anybody that doesn’t know, when you are passing through the two big stone lions that flank the gates you tell them that if you stare unblinkingly at the lions they will roar at you, well if you do stare at the lions you will miss the fact that you ride over a cattle grid at the base, which is where the roar comes in.  It doesn’t quite fool middle-aged cyclists though - worth a try.

Rolling at a gentle pace along country roads in Bedfordshire was a nice way to spend an afternoon. Through Froxfield and Eversholt then on to Steppingley and around Ampthill; through Maulden and the Haynes and past the airfield at Old warden. Here they house the Shuttleworth Collection of historic vehicles and aeroplanes, which is unique in that everything is kept in working condition, including the flying collection showcasing the first one hundred years of flight.

Through Ickwell Green and we were now within shouting distance of or next stopping point, the Crown pub in Northill. Northill is a lovely little picture postcard village with a cricket green in the centre and well-manicured gardens. In 1639, Thomas Tompion, "the Father of English Clock making" was baptised in the church. He left the village when he was 15 and was apprenticed to a London clock maker.  He subsequently became one of the countries greatest clockmakers and to celebrate this fact a plaque has been put on the wall of his birthplace (a dubious time keeping link)

As we stacked our bikes up against the walls in the carpark with the hundred or so other cyclists Simon, Phil and Kevin turned up. What timing (another dubious Tompion related link). We managed to grab a table in the garden and I finished off two more cans of Red Bull and a packet of crisps; I know there was something to do with needing salt and sugar for exercise in the last cycling weekly, well that’s my excuse and I am sticking to it.

All together again now and the “plan” for sticking to a 16mph average was doing quite well, and for the first few miles after leaving the pub we were sticking to the average. After crossing the A1 at Sandy the pace slowly started to increase and oblivious to the protestations from the rear of the group by the time we had reached Gamlingay it had increased even more. At this point we were passed briefly by a small group of riders with tri-bars and this was our cue to break free.

Since leaving the Crown pub we had been doing a lot of passing but nobody had passed us, due to the increase in pace we had dropped a number of our group and the few that were left decided to chase this tri-bar wielding group down. Having done this and latched onto the back Simon C, Kevin and Simon F, decided to test them even further and pushed the pace up until only one of these interlopers was left and he just sat on the back until we were about a mile from Cambridge where we “encouraged” him to go to the front.

There are a couple of problems with pushing the pace this hard at the end of an 85 mile ride, one is that the legs don’t like it and the other is that once you have done it you have got to keep it going because to back off would just allow quite a number of gloating riders back on and we weren’t having any of that.

The saying ringing around my head whilst fixated with the wheel in front was “pride comes before a fall” and my particular fall was a cramp taking over my thighs. Luckily I knew some bits of the route we were taking from a ride I had completed out to Cambridge a couple of years before. So on we drove like things possessed through Longstowe, Bourn, Toft, Comberton and Barton then onto the A603 into Cambridge, where due to my brief local knowledge and sitting on for the last two miles, I won the sprint for the Cambridge sign.

We were welcomed into the Downing College Sports Field in Cambridge with cheering crowds, medals, music, vital refreshments and brilliant sunshine!

Including the stops we did the 85 miles in 6 hours and 40 minutes and I had an indicated 17mph average on my bike computer.

The abiding image of this ride was the number and friendliness of the marshals, and the amount of informative signage. At every turn there was a sign and a marshal, at most points the marshals had water and there were also numerous open pubs and cafes to get drinks and food. There were vans with people to help sort out the mechanical problems and pick up the injured and exhausted; they had thought of everything.

What could have been a soaked and miserable nightmare became an enjoyable ride in the late summer sun.

All funds raised help support the BHF’s life-saving research to help vulnerable men, women and children. Heart disease is still the UK’s single biggest killer.