Great British Escapades 2025

The Canterbury Vicinity on a Thursday Evening

Where all good decisions begin.

I’m already questioning everything.

My packable layers, especially.

I’ve forgotten something. Must have.

One guy’s clearly overdressed, another clearly under.

Like both know something I don’t?

Kevin says a few words.

I try and listen, but my crippling self-doubt is way louder.

“Don’t crash out like last year.”

“Don’t set off too hard.”

“Finish is the goal.”

This year I have a plan.

If my hip holds up.

15 Turkish Delights, for one thing.

I’m like a mobile tuck shop.

We’re off...Cycling into the night.

Infected brakes. Good start.

They’re wailing, like they know something.

Still, it’s nice to have a problem I can actually hear.

My Checkpoint 1

100km time trial.

Fun.

McDonald’s and Premier Inn reset.

ALCOHOL!

(Wipes. For the brakes.)

Tried to sleep. Failed.

Tried again. Failed harder.

Sod it.

2am.

I’m rolling again.

100km to Checkpoint 1.

Felt great.

Headphones in.

Very dark. Bit eerie.

Some questionable parked-up cars.

What are they doing out here this time of night?

Official Checkpoint 1

Bodies in bivvy bags everywhere.

Coach Neil’s there, flying a drone.

It looks like an Amazon Prime apocalypse.

No hanging about though.

Sausage sandwich.

Coffee.

A tactical release.

We move on.

The boring bit is here.

The admin miles.

Haslemere, then on to the Downs.

I make it more pleasurable by regularly stopping to buy ice cream.

Briefly thought about the time I fell in a hole at a festival,and Anna laughed at me like a musketeer for hours.

Not relevant, but it returned.

Met a guy called Matt.

Gravel bike.

Nice chat for a bit.

Graffham time - up to the South Downs.

Too steep, too hot.

Walking up the Downs and riding down the Downs.

Eating when walking, smiling while riding.

This feels efficient.

My back starts wailing on the uphills.

My brakes still wailing on the downhills.

Like they know something.

My hip joins in and we make an agreement over ibuprofen.

I spend the time trying to now look for the right hotel room,

in the right place,

at the right time.

Sunset hits like a therapy breakthrough.

Cows form a corridor.

A badger charges me.

I think it was angry about the brakes.

Or just... life.

I get it.

I do not flinch.

Mainly because I’ve seized up.

Fog rolls in.

Fig rolls. In!

I lose the path and possibly my identity.

Everything is cow-shaped ghosts.

Even the sheep.

Sheep can be nobs.

Matt reappears out of the dark and we go on,before I detour off-route to Newhaven.

My Checkpoint 2

Premier Inn, Newhaven.

Another Maccies.

230km.

Shower.

Stretch.

Reset.

4am.

Dawn on the Downs.

Stunning sunrise.

Spiritual.

Had a cry.

The sheep nodded.

The cows nodded.

We understand each other.

Official Checkpoint 2

Met a Swedish bloke called Daniel.

Nice fella.

We chat and head to the proper checkpoint together.

I get a message from Chris:

“100km left. You’re in the top 30. GO! GO! GO!”

I hadn’t cared.

Now I did.

Damn it.

I am now an athlete.

I act accordingly.

Met Tony.

Then he vanished.

Was he even was real?

Two Calippos down the back.

Hunting for fish and chips.

Only got chips.

Should’ve got fish.

Still thinking about that.

Sat down.

Calippos exploded up my back.

I carried the joy with me for too long and it melts.

Later, I would have to wash behind a hedge.

Cows again. Having a good look.

Approval.

Not the sheep. Nobs.

20km to go. Cruising.

26th place.

I’m happy just to finish now.

A cold beer is consuming my mind.

I overtake 25th place.

He’s fixing a puncture.

I asked in passing if he was alright while I got out the saddle and surged away

I feel like Zeus!

Emergency gel.

All-in.

Silly boy.

Bloody fool.

Legs left the chat.

I feel like Icarus.

5km to go and he retakes me.

He was never the antagonist anyway.

I was.

I thought about the fish again.

But here’s the thing.

I finished.

For once.

My Finish.The Official Finish.

Love this event. Great people.

Tony was real.

He gave me a lift home.

Hero.

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