5 minute read
Pin-pointing pointlessness is the pinnacle of pleasure
Burford… a view through the wheel before my steep then splash section
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Satisfied sunset… the pure joy at the end of a long day in the saddle
Those of you who still use hard-copy Ordnance Survey maps to navigate will be aware that double chevron markings on a road denote a hill with a steepness of 1 in 5 or greater (that’s anything between eight and 13 per cent). During an idle lockdown moment, Ben Connolly, left, picked out the chevrons on his map of the
Cotswolds – and then set out to ride all 33 of them in one day from his home in
Stroud, for no other reason than it just might be fun.
SOME PEOPLE think I’m obsessed with problem-solving – to the degree that I’ll actually go out of my way to find a problem, then try to solve it. So, during lockdown I took out my local OS map, searching for all the home-grown chevrons
The objective was to devise a ride which would link these chevron marks, but that was not its purpose. Being furloughed meant my life was easy and free from challenges. I had to complete this arbitrary task to remind myself that I could – and remember how good discomfort can feel.
The first step was to lay out the map and mark all the chevrons. I’d committed to this goal before becoming aware of the true scale of it. My map had 33 chevrons. There was no escaping the distance. This was turning into a huge day out.
Organisation is not something I pride myself on, but I have to admit I rather enjoyed it. I was missing my job. I’m a software engineer and before lockdown had been working on a pathfinding optimization algorithm. I was enjoying the calculation of the route. Ultimately, however, because I tend to ride with my head in the clouds, I ended up using the paper map – and re-routing on the fly.
I was beaming right from the first pedal stroke. Today was simple; today felt free. I glided weightlessly along the lanes, my enthusiasm acting as a tailwind. I’d snapped the lockdown chains that shackled me to home – there was nothing holding me back.
As the sun rose and the world woke up I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time – hunger. It is such a primal instinct, but easily lost in cushy modern life. The food tasted so much better because I needed it, rather than simply wanting it.
Something obvious in reflection, that I hadn’t considered, was what a physical rollercoaster this ride would be. Each chevron is a road that contains one section steeper than eight per cent. This has no requirement for length of climb and my ride was filled with these literal ups and downs. I defy anyone to keep a straight face as the road whooshes you forwards with the gravitational potential energy you
just transferred from your legs. Such a simple joy.
In singling out special moments, I am doing an injustice to all the untold tales, but the stand-out was at the top of a village. My first chevron after a long Roman road, it was steep, it was straight, and it ended with a ford. Full speed ahead on the log flume. I honked my vocal horn and the children splashing squealed with excitement – an excitement I shared. Getting wet feet was so childish and silly but I love that I did it anyway.
Long bike rides can feel monotonous.
Just turning the pedals. Now this alone is not a criticism; that simple state of being is something special. However, this ride had
FACTS AND FIGURES:
This 220km round of the Cotswolds took Ben 15hrs (13hrs riding) with 3,421m of climbing. The route takes you through the heart of the AONB via Burford and Cirencester none of that. Counting down the chevrons broke it into manageable sections, a consistent feeling of progress, that achievement I had been yearning for.
I spent all morning looking forward to lunch. I’d made my own guacamole wraps and vegan brownies the previous afternoon. Being totally self-sufficient on this ride added to the liberation. I was able to stop where I wanted, when I wanted. The food lived up to the hype.
By early afternoon the heat had clearly got to my filter. I made an audible whoosh as the road dipped, followed by desperate gasping then giggling. I continuously got carried away in the thrill of the hill, pushing way too hard, forgetting that I had 33 to do, plus another nine, thanks to some carefree navigation. I was doing this for my own tormented amusement, not efficiency.
An unavoidable consequence of visiting all the chevrons in a single ride was going round in circles to revisit the valley villages that have four steep roads in and out. Naturally this repetition happened later on the route when my legs and saddle area were getting rather fed up with this unrelenting cycling.
Simply difficult would be my two word summary of long bike rides. There is a significant distinction between simple and easy. Both can be positives, as can their opposites. Autoplay Netflix is both, knitting a tea cosy is complicated and easy, long bike rides are simply difficult. All you do all day is simply ride your bike, but there is nothing easy about riding all day long.
On the familiar roll home I reflected on whether this had been my most productive day or my least. On the one hand I’d cycled a long way, seen lots of interesting things, and experienced living. On the other hand, I’d spent almost an entire day prepping the route and a subsequent “floppy” day recovering from this simple activity. At the end of it all I was back where I started. I concluded that
Bourton-on-the Water, ❝ productivity was not the pinnacle of life.
I defy anyone to keep a straight face as the road whooshes you forwards with the gravitational potential energy you just transferred from your legs. Such a simple joy ❞
Those lanes you dream of… the straight sections around Lechlade illustrate a Roman inheritance
