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| Me, John, Nick |
Nick and I are acutely aware that, although we are trying to raise money for a charity that aims to bring families together, we are leaving ours for two weeks to do it. The goodbyes were horrible, but lugging a colossal rucksack and a bike with sharp edges down the stairs to the platform among tutting and sighing commuters (well, they should have been at work by then), soon focusses the mind on getting there, rather than leaving.
At Paddington we spotted two minor celebrities. London News Arts Correspondent, Will Gompertz, was cycling in a strangely eccentric and windswept manner to complement his hair style. And then the fast and determined woman, who sat in the sofa we had our eyes on in the coffee shop, was joined by BBC Royal Correspondent, Nicholas Witchell, who, we later discovered in the paper, was 60 today. Happy birthday Nicholas Witchell.
The 12.06 from Paddington was completely chaotic with a party of schoolkids sitting in every booked seat on the carriage, and then moving, when asked, to other booked seats from which they were asked to move again. And again. And again. And then they started singing. This was even worse than sharing a train carriage with Michael Gove to Birmingham last year, and left us feeling that this might actually be the hardest day and that 70 miles over Dartmoor would be a picnic.
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| Heading towards hell. |
I spent much of the journey editing an article for the Journal of the Antique Metalware Society about a 19th-century doorstop in the form of Cerberus, the fierce, 3-headed dog who guarded the gates of hell, refusing to let anyone out. (I do actually enjoy doing this sort of thing.) I was beginning to wonder if Cerberus might be guarding the train door, especially when we saw the compartment into which we had to stow our beloved bikes. It was unbefitting.
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| John's smoky image editing adds nothing to the ambience |
We were at Exeter in a bit over 2 hours. It took another two hours to get to Penzance where we were met by Ian of DiscoverAdventure. At least we now know he is from DiscoverAdventure. There was a moment of doubt after we had put the bikes in his van. The unmarked van seemed to be full of non-cycling related gear. I am sure I saw a washing machine. And a dog basket. Ian picked up our bikes and piled them unceremoniously on top of each other and shut the door. This treatment of our precious bikes reminded me of an old school friend's experience peering through the curtains as the vet walked out to his van with the family's recently expired Afghan in a sack over his shoulder, slung him in the van, slammed the door and drove off. 15 minutes later we saw a different van with DiscoverAdventure on it and were convinced we'd been had. Ian turned up later in the Longboat Inn. But we are experiencing separation anxiety (ahem ... for our families too) and will not be happy until the bikes are back in our custody in the morning.
John and I have also been separated from Nick who is staying at the far more attractive Lugger Hotel on the promenade. The Longboat is on a busy intersection right opposite Sounds Nightclub. This makes us look forward to the start even more.
We have met most of the rest of the group. There's Don from the Wirral, whose wife, Lynne, is driving much of the route with us; Craig, from Preston, who recently did London to Paris; Vajran, a Buddhist doctor who knows the human body inside out and will be a hugely useful member of the team as our middle-aged aches and pains emerge; Simon, also known on Facebook as the Dorset Motivator (I was expecting someone as loud as Mr Motivator but with a west country accent but he wasn't at all); Matthew, who has just sold a house around the corner from my place, and his girlfiend, Lizzie, and her work friend Maria; Colin who has insisted he is going for a run each morning; and Bryan with whom I have not had a proper conversation yet but he seems very nice. After an initial bout of verbal circling with questions about relative mileages and injuries everyone relaxed into conversation about the morning to come.
The evening ended with a lovely phone call home. God, I miss them. I am trying to focus on tomorrow which has been 15 months in the planning. John, Nick and I are feeling the butterflies.
