The 2010 Dunwich Dynamo

This is what I’d been riding for. The Dunwich Dynamo, a 112 mile overnight ride to the Suffolk coast. For four years I’d said “Maybe next year,” but not this time.

It’s an unsupported ride, so I went prepared:

There’s a lot of stuff here, but it boils down to a change of clothes, tools for roadside repairs, food, drink, and other essentials (such as a phone, my wallet, and a book for the train home).

I’m still getting used to the GPS; I experimented with its on-road navigation for the ride to London fields. “Avoid highways” is useless in London, and it suggested a couple of dodgy turns, but I was impressed it routed me through some cycle-only places.

The cyclists on my way to the start all had a more determined air about them than usual, but the real magical moment was arriving at the park to find it packed with cyclists. This is the back of the pub, the less busy area; this picture doesn’t do it justice.

Nobody I knew was riding this year so I found three friendly-looking riders (Alex, Alice, and Graham) and chatted before the start. We set off at 25 to eight, then rode together until my handlebars came loose at the Woodford roundabout. I lost them when I stopped to tighten my bars up.

After my handlebar stop I rode at a brisk pace to catch up with the rest of the group. I was sitting at a red light when a group of serious-looking cyclists pulled up along side. We pulled away together as I realised that these were the super-quick ones who’d left at nine. We’d left the built-up urban areas behind and rode along quiet trunk roads. These soon changed into the quiet country roads that lasted all the way to the sea.

The magic sensation lasted until just after midnight when I lost most other riders and found myself alone. I was expecting to fall into a group sooner or later - either I’d catch up with slightly-slower group and ride with them, or I’d be caught by a slightly-faster group and hang onto the back. But it never happened, and most of the time I was on my own or being overtaken.

I had a short break at midnight to stretch my shoulder muscles and refill my water bottle, and planned to keep going until three for my main break. However, at 1.30AM I spotted a van with “LFGSS” in the windscreen and pulled over. The rumour mill was that some LFGSS riders hadn’t started and there was room in the coach back, but I wasn’t lucky enough to get a space. I did, however, get a water-top-up and a tissue.

I pushed on until ten past three when I stopped next to three other riders to scoff down a banana, some peanuts, and water. My shoulders were really screaming at me now and my left hand was numb, but I was in a good mood and not tired. The GPS reported a mere 25 miles to go, so after a rest and some stretches I hopped back on the bike and set off with vigour. It was around half past three now, and there was the first hint of daylight in the sky.

About a mile after my stop I came to a café selling bacon butties, which made me feel a lot better as all the riders who passed me before were now taking a break of their own. From here it was a straightforward ride to the sea, with a few more riders around but nothing you could call a peloton. I rolled onto Dunwich beach on my own at quarter to six, where I sat with some lovely people who shared their fruit loaf with me.

My strongest memories from the ride:

The lady whining a half-mile in “This is going to take ages.” I think she abandoned it.

The hoodies in Hackney pointing down a side street, yelling “The others all went that way!” Everyone in our group laughed at their jape, but the GPS confirmed it: the others really did go that way.

Seeing a river of red bike lights all the way to the horizon from the top of Lea Bridge Road.

The Essex boys cheering and clapping me as I rode past them on my own post-handlebars. They screamed “ROCK ON!” with delight when I threw up the horns in response.

The three times my GPS route disagreed with the cue sheet and I trusted the GPS. Each time I’d swing off onto some side road and be utterly alone in the dark for a half-mile or so, never totally convinced that I’d rejoin everyone.

Talking to people along the way: Alice and Alex at the start, Lloyd from Standard Life, the pair riding together as one was training for LEJOG, the three riders at 3AM (who somehow recognised me in daylight at Liverpool Street train station the next day), the foursome who shared their food and company with me on the beach, and everyone else.

The people with strobing super-bright headlamps, turning portions of the ride into a David Lynch film.

The overall magicness of riding through the night in a huge group of people, all with a common destination.

Things I learned from the ride: