The white road less travelled

Even in the teeming south of England there are quiet lanes to be found – and Basingstoke’s Colin Bezant discovered plenty, including the The chalky “white roads” of the South Downs. Here’s his report on long-distance riding in lockdown: White road less WORDS & PICTURES COLIN BEZANT travelled

I HAD GREAT PLANS for 2020. It was my intention to tackle the Mad March Many Rivers to Cross, followed by the Oasts and Coasts (300km around Kent), a 400km around the north of Scotland, and finally the epic Crackpot 1000, run as a calendar event for the first time in 20 years. Later in the year I would take a few days to go touring in the far north – Shetland, the Faeroes, or even Iceland.

But I only rode the first of these, under the clouds of the first impending lockdown, through Devonian rain and floods. Then lockdown happened. I followed the fatuous suggestion that we should not exercise for more than an hour, not because I understood it, but in a spirit of “we’re all in this together”. As the spread of the virus began to reduce, and the guidance relaxed, I wondered what new horizons could be explored.

Ride mapping software came to my rescue. One of the possible routes out of lockdown would be that you could exercise as much as you like but only in your local area. I worked out it was possible to complete a 330km route in Basingstoke & Deane’s 25km x 15km box without entering urban areas and without crossing my route once. In the old days, before GPS, I wouldn’t have been able to memorise the 200-plus turns involved, but now I could just follow a track. I never got around to riding this, as the rules relaxed enough for me to explore further, but the principles encouraged me to ride roads less travelled.

Once we were all allowed to stay away overnight, our static caravan in Selsey, on the south coast, came into play. There’s a barrier on the way to Selsey – the South Downs. As a geographical feature the Downs are not exactly the Alps, but there are very few roads across the escarpment, and most of them are busy.

The best route is probably Harting Down (the B2141), but most of the routes east of that have heavy commercial traffic. The next is the A286 at Cocking, then the A285 at Duncton, the A29 up Bury Hill which joins up with the B2139 from Amberley (a rat run from the South Coast to Gatwick).

However, in the summer, there’s an alternative – the “white roads of Sussex”. Many of the farm tracks over the South Downs are hard-packed chalk. When dry, these ride a little like the famous Strade Bianchi of Italy, and its eponymous race, based on the L’Eroica. Riding a section of

those roads was one of my highlights of the Mille Miglia in Italy in 2010.

One weekend I rode the short section from Amberley to Burpham via Peppering Farm, and then, on the way back, turned right at Peppering Farm all the way over Springhead Hill, on my race bike, but with 28mm Schwalbe Durano tyres.

Such adventures took my July mileage to over 1,000km, a figure I’d only ever attained only with a 600km Audax or longer ride as part of the distance. I hatched a plan to set a personal best for most miles cycled in a month during August. Everything was going to plan, but I needed a big last weekend. I’d also got used to avoiding cafes and riding over 200km self-supported, trying to minimise contact with other people in shops and cafes.

It took a bit of planning to create the route. I checked the roads using Bing Maps in Ordnance Survey mode and Google Streetview, to make sure that some of the more obscure sections were proper roads and not bridle paths. On Sunday I would ride from home in Basingstoke through to Kent, and then take a dog-leg back to Selsey via Steyning Bostal. On Bank Holiday Monday, I’d get up early to avoid traffic on the roads north of Portsmouth and Southampton to get out into Wiltshire as far as Mere, then I’d do a complete traverse of Salisbury Plain before finding roads north of Andover to take me home. The two days would total just over 500km.

It wasn’t proper English Bank Holiday weather; the rain had passed through earlier, leaving the roads with scattered debris, especially in my exploration of the greensand lanes south of Godalming. My route mixed familiar and new roads, the latter mostly obscure lanes with variable quality tarmac, but after the white roads of Sussex, nothing of real concern.

It wasn’t very warm and I rode most of the morning with arm and leg warmers. I battled a gusty wind that veered between a headwind and a crosswind and inevitably petered out as soon as I got to the dog-leg where it became a tailwind. At Edenbridge I began to feel thin. As I wasn’t taking the ride as seriously as I would an Audax, I parked Roberts against a park bench and unpacked some homemade ham sandwiches from the Carradice bag. I’d made four, with the idea that I’d have two snack stops, but they were so tasty that I finished them, while watching life go by.

I was there long enough to get cold and stiff, and put the legwarmers back on, heading off into darkest Kent to explore some very obscure roads as well as the hinterlands of Chiddingstone and Hever castles. Both of these were well-concealed from public roads, so sadly no chance of pictures in front of stately homes. Chiddingstone village was full of tourists not doing a very good job of socialdistancing, so I was glad to leave it behind.

I needed all of the energy from those sandwiches for the long drag up to Crowborough, on top of the Weald. My route dropped down into an area I’d only ridden on a couple of El Supremo Audaxes and the Sussex 24-hour time trial. Needless to say, my memory of the routes was somewhat patchy. The Garmin kept me on track, past Piltdown (of old archaeological scandal fame) to Pyecombe and the cycle route with fond memories of a control on the Cheesie Toastie Audax, now just an empty lay-by, a crowded pub in Poynings and, at last bright sunshine as I headed into the gap in the Downs carved by the River Adur. I was definitely flagging, but I knew there was a shop in Upper Beeding, now a petrol station, where I could get a coffee. Sitting on the forecourt to drink my beverage I met a couple of guys riding the South Downs Way on a gravel bikes. We had a chat about my next challenge, Steyning Bostal, which I’d once raced as a hill-climb.

I rode on through Littlehampton, which was as empty of tourists as Chiddingstone had been full, and took the gravel alternative to the B-road down to Selsey, where I bought beer and milk from the Co-op and settled down to watch the Tour de France highlights in our caravan.

At 6am the next morning I set off. It was grey but dry and cold, single-figure temperatures. I wore my rain jacket for warmth. Havant was empty. The views from Portsdown Hill were surreal, the Solent and its tangled estuaries wild in comparison with the industrial southcoast landscapes. Eastleigh was busy, but soon I was riding through a quiet valley between Romsey and Salisbury and the sun came out.

I stopped, took all the extra layers off and pretended it was high summer. My route took me through Salisbury as, bizarrely, this was the easiest way to avoid longer sections of busy roads. There was a very tempting café in the cathedral close, but it was a bit too soon to stop, so I took a picture of my iconic bike with its iconic saddlebag with the iconic spire behind. Then I tackled the Ebble Valley, with a slight detour to explore some more new roads. Lunch was a more typical Audax fare – a Subway sandwich at a petrol station on the A303, and a vast coffee, before descending into Wessex territory.

The plan was to do Salisbury Plain with a tailwind, but the wind had decided to go on holiday. All the holidaymakers, however, had decided to avoid the A303 past Stonehenge and were busy blighting what should have been quiet roads. I had the last laugh though. There were temporary traffic lights in Shrewton which

❝There was a very tempting café in the cathedral close in Salisbury, but it was a bit too soon to stop, so I took a picture of my iconic bike with its iconic saddlebag with the iconic spire behind. ❞

jammed up the rat run. I sailed down the outside of the queue and plugged my way onwards. The convoy of campervans that had passed me just outside Heytesbury (five miles before Shrewton) eventually passed me again in Larkhill (five miles after Shrewton). Result!

My only problem was that I was almost out of liquid and my route was shop and café free, so I made a detour to Burbage, where I had my favourite Audax picnic – coffee, prawn sandwich, and salt-andvinegar crisps, with a mini pork pie just to keep me going. Then it was brisk 50km home. All-in-all it was a very enjoyable exploration. It also took my monthly mileage to a new personal best, substantially higher even than ten years before when I had ridden the Mille Miglia, 1001 miles all in one ride.

A couple of months later I thought I’d try a similar ride, this time on my Enigma titanium machine, as my Roberts Bike was in the shop for a well-earned strip down and respray. The forecast was a bit rough, so I picked as hilly a route as possible down to Selsey, just 100 miles, but taking in Farleigh Hill, several sharp climbs around Hawkley, then a few more around Hindhead, before finishing off with Bexleyhill, two different climbs on Harting Downs and Singleton Chute. The challenge was increased by Storm Aiden, which turned most of the roads in rivers. Descending through Ellisfield, I witnessed a miniature roadside whirlpool in which at least a hundred apples were bobbing. Just before halfway the storm blew itself out, and I was treated to one of the most pleasant October evenings I could remember, quiet and mild, my Lumicycles blazing down the B-road to Selsey – and back to the caravan in time to watch the highlights of La Vuelta and David Gaudu’s well-earned stage victory.

Lockdown changed my plans for 2020, but it didn’t dampen my spirits for exploration and discovery. I found my new roads, not in new territories, but the forgotten corners of old ones, places that I might otherwise have overlooked. I did some new things and met new people, even if the conversations were at a polite distance, the spirit of the road remained.

❝… I was treated to one of the most pleasant October evenings I could remember, quiet and mild, my Lumicycles blazing down the B-road to Selsey ❞

❝… soon I was riding through a quiet valley between Romsey and Salisbury and the sun came out ❞