andygates

Once again the Dunwich Dynamo is done: once again the Gathering of the Clans with every tribe under the cycling sun represented: from the veteran mile-devourers who get itchy if they do less than 200km to the boyfriend-girlfriend dares, longest ride of their lives; from the pace-line roadies never dipping under evens to the little Asian girl on a classic sit-up-and-beg; from the rusty old shed five-speeds to custom artisan bikes; carbon and steel, aluminium and titanium and even wood (yes, wood: the Pedersen had wooden rims); the athletes and the pub-crawlers, all cycling life is here.

Once again the ride forms its own Critical Mass, tapering to the Epping Snake, (hooking up with Em and her messenger pals, scoring a Snickers and a quick refill) pubs staying open longer this time (entrepreneurs all the way: late-opening pubs, ad-hoc bacon butty tents, cabbies touting for return van hire).  After the first fifty the snake is segmented and the rolling groups form and re-form; after about seventy or so, they've set, and now the dynamic is shedding, spalling, a sweaty and slightly hallucinatory comet coming in for a beach impact.  Got to keep in the group, got to keep the group sharp, or you end up in the existential Lonelinesses between groups. 

Once again the first road-sign for Dunwich, just after the last bad hill, and the chase down to the beach happy as dogs in a park (you've made it once you see that sign) where the blessed balm of the North Sea waits to soothe the centurion arse.

This year we took camping gear, to pitch behind the dunes, and rolled along slow and implacable as glacial retreat: a peloton of mostly knife-wielding lesbians and circus people, tandems with trailers that looked as if they'd contain a calliope and a Big Top.  It changed the ride a little: extended the timescale, made it very relaxed, made the arrival a part rather than the ultimate goal.  Camping fun was had: Night Of The Earwig, dawn swims, fire toys, the world put to rights over a bottle of scotch.  Even so, as always, the core of the thing is the same: they came, they rode, they overcame adversity, they went home smiling.

It's that time of year again - July's full moon weekend and the 120-mile ride from central London to Dunwich on the Suffolk coast. This year, on the back of a great year for bikes in the UK and some fantastic weather, there was a record turnout of up to 1000 riders.

The Dun Run is the nicest, funnest overnight century you could hope to ride, so the plan this year was to do it on pennyfarthings. Alas, my penny's cranks fell off, and another rider's bike broke, so Charlotte had to do it on her own - I rode a Brommie and did support along with Phil (in the picture - click for a set). Nobody's done it on a penny before.

The ride's always a sort of CM-with-a-plan fun fest, a bit of a gathering of the cycling clans, and it was lovely meeting lots of friends in passing. We soon dropped back to the penny's 18kph steady pace and arrived to a round of applause after C had ridden for fifteen and a half hours.

Chapeau, dear heart!

Highlights this year: Gerald's inflatable boat (so he could go for a little row afterwards); Wobbly John's wobblebike (designs pinned to the Cliffs of Insanity); 4th July fireworks in Moreton; great craic at the last pub stop; wearing a glowstick in my newly gauged lobe; the filthy innuendo around dawn's rosy fingers; glowstick smiley faces on road bikes; stopping under a village doctor's eaves for a power nap and a coffee-and-whisky brew up; the sheer pluck of some non-cyclists having a go anyway (getting lost, going slow, having fun); the skinny-dip at the end (nothing, not one thing, beats a sea-swim on a bike-ride-battered arse).

But mostly it was Charlotte's night, and well done to her: the penny takes lots of upper-body to ride (you push against the bars opposite your pedal to keep it straight; more power = more pushing, so hill climbing is a sort of 7-foot-high benchpress argument). Next year I'll have mine ready, oh yes I will...

Well, that was what they call a "reliability ride".