From suspicious seafood to radiant rainbows a year to remember or forget

Essex-based Tom Deakins began 2020 with a plate of dodgy oysters – and things didn’t get much better. This is his personal diary of a pestilential year – and how he managed to salvage something from a Covid-wrecked cycling season

MY YEAR GOT OFF to a bad start, even before we’d heard much about the virus. On an event in January several of us were laid low by a stomach bug after sampling what should have been Essex’s finest seafood fare.

I’d greedily snaffled oysters from the vegans, vegetarians, the squeamish and the cautious, sloshed on the tabasco and lemon juice and thought yum! Twenty-four hours later I was sweating and feeling very unwell. I recovered, but others suffered worse.

In February, the final ride in the ACME Winter Series, the Knights Templar and Compasses, passed off without incident in reasonable weather, then Brazier’s Run 100km was ridden in atrociously wet conditions, with a very small field mad enough to venture out.

Next it was off to Aylesbury for the Chiltern Grit 100km, extended to 200km by riding home afterwards. By the time my Horsepower 100 and 200km came round in mid-March, there was talk of a lockdown and the likelihood of events being modified, or even cancelled.

We also rode a fundraiser – with just enough hand sanitiser to go round. We did things differently this year. There was also something called “social distancing”.

Then lockdown happened, and things got really weird. Most obviously, there were hardly any cars on the road – brilliant! Also, work hardly changed for me. I’m a gardener for two or three days a week and my clients were happy for me to continue – though there were to be no cosy cuppas in the kitchen. I had time in my studio for my art work, which also kept me busy.

But the “new normal”, as everyone called it, soon had me bored. As the warm and dry spring progressed, I realised more riders were out and about for longer than the one hour originally recommended. Boris Johnson said we could go for a bike ride, so I did.

I started riding my 200km permanent routes, beginning with Boudicca’s Revenge, carrying a day’s supply of food and drink, replenishing fluids at churchyard taps, with just the odd shop visit. I was so concerned to keep out of the way that, for the first few rides, I hid behind a hedge to eat.

Some villages in our corner of Essex, popular with tourists, had taped off their benches on village greens and put up “Go Home” signs. I had visions of angry villagers with pitchforks and flaming torches. I survived a couple of long days out without being lynched or reported to the Covid police, and I started to relax and enjoy the ride. I rode several variants of familiar routes, cutting corners or adding in extra loops and had a lot of fun, usually clocking up around 200km.

This kept me occupied until things began to ease after mid-summer. I did all these rides and on

❝… I took a couple of days off to ride a bivvying tour of Essex one weekend in August, when the heatwave was at its peak ❞

Perfect bivvy spot

“Poppy”, my 70 year old Parkes Lightweight, on which I’d ridden PBP in 2019.

Our Mid-Essex Mid-Week Nocturnal Series – evening pub rides, usually more pub than ride, had moved on to Zoom in the first wave of the virus. They featured social chat, a quiz and other silliness, plus a beer or two in the comfort of our own homes. But as summer came around, I was beginning to get rather quizzed-out.

In June I joined Jan Swanwick and Mick Gray to ride the Windmill 200km route, a day after the cancelled event should have happened. On Saffron Walden Common we met a group of Audax Club Hackney riders doing the Straight Outta Hackney route. Ex-racer Mick set the pace for much of the day, so we romped round in a good time. In early July, when the Dunwich Dynamo would have taken place, I rode the route from home to Aldeburgh on the Suffolk coast and back. At 144 miles it was my longest ride of the year so far. All the summer rides were warm and dry, in fact one of the most settled seasons I can remember.

As soon as permanent rides up to 200km became possible in August, plans were drawn up for up to six riders to tackle Boudicca’s Revenge. As it turned out we had six enter the 200, with four, including myself, on the 100km. I caught up with Geoff Sharpe and Raymond Cheung en-route for a socially-distant picnic lunch from Haslingfield village shop. Later we rendezvoused in the beer garden of the Angel and Harp in Churchend for a pint or two in the beer garden.

I rode a 200km the following Saturday, thereby re-starting my RRtY. It looked as though things would continue in this “rule of six” mode, but then permanents up to 600km became viable, so I considered the possibility of a Super Randonneur series before the end of the season.

To build up to the SR I took a couple of days off to ride a bivvying tour of Essex one weekend in August, when the heatwave was at its peak. The plan was to just use my 1970s Bartholomew’s map of the county for navigation – after all, the roads are still there! Following the Thames itself looked very complicated so I aimed to pick up NCN Route 13, shadowing the A13 from Southend west to the River Lea. I took my 1995 Kona Lava Dome MTB-With-Dropped-Bars tourer and packed everything into two small panniers.

I rode down to Maldon to meet Mark Oakden and Steve Rowley for a curry and the first night’s bivvy. We trekked along about a mile of the sea wall to a recommended spot. It was just 24 hours after a spring tide. We could see the high tide mark so were fairly sure we’d not get washed away in the night, but what we hadn’t bargained for was the all-pervading sound of the water sucking and gurgling through the myriad creeks and inlets.

In the morning we made our way into Maldon for breakfast. Then I found I had a non-spherical rear tyre, so spent an age fixing it. Once I was sorted out Steve and Oaky returned to Witham and I made tracks to Burnham for the ferry across the River Crouch. There were three of us passengers on the little boat crossing to Wallasea Island – a first for me, and I’ve now ticked off all the other little East Anglian ferries except for Butley in Suffolk.

Once past Rayleigh and into the hinterland of Southend the traffic built up, but I peeled off and found a back lane that popped me out on to the old A13, which I followed east before cutting down to the Thames estuary via the suburban streets of Shoebury.

The seafront was a multi-use path by the beach, with huts giving way to amusements and cafes as I neared the famous pier. The place was heaving, so I took the road up on to the cliff-tops to Clifftown Parade, genteel Prittlewell Square and Edwardian Westcliff, before eventually dropping back down to walk the path along to Old Leigh – which was unhealthily busy.

From Hadleigh I bypassed the delights of Canvey Island, picked up Route 13 signs which I followed into Essex-in-London. If you’ve ever looked down from the M25 near the Thurrock Services and Lakeside junction with the A13, that creek winding incongruously through meadows, marsh and woodland is the Mardyke – an incongruous oasis.

A wiggle on the route through Aveley took me to Rainham Marshes and another gem of wilderness in the heart of suburbia. Another tack took me up through Rainham and back on to NCN13. Cruising through Dagenham on the old main road, in the bus and bike lane of the dual carriageway, was fun.

I stopped to take in the River Roding at Barking Creek from the bridge. The Roding rises very close to the perimeter of Stansted Airport, though it’s little more than a trickle. At Barking Creek, it’s a mighty tidal estuary and in the Middle Ages home to the single largest fishing fleet in Europe, with over 1,000 boats. Tithes paid to Barking Abbey made it one of the richest in the country, and the last to be dissolved by Henry VIII in the Reformation.

Then it was down to the River Lea at Bow Locks

to a more peaceful world, though busy with cyclists and walkers, especially near popular houseboat moorings, where more than one illegal rave was going on – not exactly complying with government regulations. I had time for a quick pint before sunset and time to find a bivvy spot in Epping Forest.

After a quiet night I was up at first light and on the road, back down to the Stort Navigation towpath at Roydon. Too early for breakfast in Sawbridgeworth, I headed into Bishop’s Stortford for the full English at a café, which kept me going the rest of the morning. Already the temperature was rising. This remote corner of north-west Essex chalklands is a bit of a desert, with few villages, shops or pubs. After draining my two bidons I finally topped-up at Ickleton village shop. I headed east towards the Stour Valley and the Suffolk border, via Saffron Walden.

First pub stop of the day was at the Red Lion, Steeple Bumpstead, where they were doing outside service from the back door, with a fairly full beer garden. Then it was on to the Essex side of the Stour through Gainsborough Country into Constable Country. I happened to cross paths with Raymond Cheung at Bures and stopped for a chat. As it was hot I had another pub stop at the Lamarsh Lion, also quite busy with drinkers outside. This place has a fine view across the valley and at some point the tiny train always trundles into sight – like something out of Thomas the Tank Engine. With the rolling slopes of the Stour Valley, trees, hedges and golden fields, it was almost too cute to be true.

I had my evening picnic in Dedham churchyard and weighed up the bivvy options. I knew of a wood along the estuary that was possible, but chose to check out the foreshore near Bradfield. There looked like just enough dry beach above the tide line, so I settled there for the night.

Another pre-dawn waking, but a lovely sunrise, so to try and beat the heat, I got going early. Before long I was heading into what turned out to be the hottest day of all.

It was too early for breakfast in Harwich and Dovercourt, so I pressed on using my Kingdom of the East Saxons 400km route round Hamford Water to Walton-on-the-Naze, through the Art Deco end of Frinton and down on to the concrete track to Clacton, with its war-time defences built in, still looking ready to repel invaders.

After breakfast at the Moon and Starifish I followed the coast past Jaywick to the ferry for Mersea Island, only to miss the sailing. It was far too hot to hang around for an hour for the next crossing, so I re-traced to St Osyth and the Wivenhoe road, taking the cyclepath along the River Colne into Colchester.

I headed out through Abberton for a top-up of fluids at the Layer Fox and set course for Dunmow and a late lunch. A total of 331 miles for the tour in a little over three days in extreme heat, but a full variety of scenery.

The following Sunday I romped round Boudicca’s Revenge 200km in a fast time on very little food, on a warm and muggy day, so I must have gained something from trundling around tortoise-like the weekend before.

After getting back from holiday in early September I rode a back-to-back pair of 200s for final preparation to see if I was up to implementing my Super Randonneur series plan. I rode a Horses for Courses reversed followed by Dick Turpin’s Day Out, also reversed, at near identical average speeds.

I floated my SR idea among the “community”. Jan Swanwick was up for it and others opted to join in for some of the rides. Having talked to various folk over

❝… the River Lea at Bow Locks, though busy with cyclists and walkers, especially near popular houseboat moorings, where more than one illegal rave was going on – not exactly complying with government regulations ❞

On the Burnham ferry

the years about the wisdom or otherwise of having a bit of an Audax cycling festival and doing the lot in a week, I’d gleaned a lot of useful ideas. Firstly, getting the 600km over with first while fresh and keen seemed to be a good plan. Then mid-week 200 and 300s, saving the 400km for the second weekend.

But before all that, Steve Rowley had planned a short bivvy tour of North Hertfordshire and Essex in mid-September, so five signed up for it. We met at the pub in Birchanger for a meal, then headed for the woods to camp.

Lots of mostly dry off-road exploration followed, but nothing too technical. We had a few extra pub stops with a Wetherspoons breakfast in Saffron Walden, a visit to the Bumpstead Red Lion, the Lamarsh Lion and the Henny Swan – the latter complete with drunken canoeists having a final spree before tighter restrictions. Several fell in the River Stour.

Night number two was spent camped in woodland. Some went their separate ways in the morning, but the rest of us went to Witham for yet another pub breakfast. It wasn’t a very high mileage trip, but a good convivial tonic after so much solo riding.

September included a 600. Jan Swanwick, Mick Gray and I set out from Dunmow on The Flatliner permanent. We made good progress and the wind wasn’t always a hindrance as we zig-zagged across the Fens. I must have done the route a dozen times but I never tire of the Flatlands – the huge skies, far horizons, and water everywhere.

The Fens have no pretentions to the touristy. Some parts are clearly neglected, but there are some spectacular medieval churches and very smart Georgian houses in places like Spalding and Boston.

We spent the night in a bus shelter on the Burton Ridge near Lincoln before pushing on for breakfast. We got going at the first glimmers of dawn, down through Lincoln, and made the Packhorse Inn just before opening. Despite taking it easy we finished in a good time.

The following week I planned a DIY route based on the Green and Yellow Fields, but starting from home. I headed for Mildenhall, hitting the north Norfolk coast at Burnham Deepdale, then back south to Snetterton services, Needham Market and then home.

Staying on lanes west of the A1065 as far as Swaffham kept me off the busy main road. It all worked out ok, with a breeze to blow me home. It was another warm day, and I ran short of fluids as village after village in Norfolk was without an open shop or pub and I was very glad to reach Snetterton services.

The next 200 was my Richard Ellis Memorial route, now a proper permanent. Again, I treated it as a rest, with as many café stops as possible. With almost a regular 50km between controls, a helpful tail wind in the morning left me feeling confident for the 400 at the weekend.

But the 400 turned out to be “the one with weather”! Jan and I were joined by Raymond Cheung and Dean Bicknell, both of whom went on to complete their SR late in the season. I took an East Anglian classic – the Asparagus and Strawberries – on which to base my DIY. I met up with Dean and started from Dunmow. Jan and Raymond were starting theirs from their respective homes, and we all planned to meet up at the Station Buffet in Manningtree for a proper breakfast.

Dean and I then decided to go straight through Colchester on the A120. There was heavy traffic, especially lorries, but all going the other way. It turned out the A12 was shut with all southbound traffic diverted off. On the northbound leg to the first control at Ixworth it was very grey, with rain threatening.

The café lady almost dragged us through the door for breakfast as the village was so deserted. We made good progress on the next stage to Halesworth, but in increasingly heavy drizzle.

The next leg up to Acle via the Reedham Ferry, was not too tough, though there was some concern as to whether the ferry would be running, because of yesterday’s rain and the high winds. The ferryman pointed out how near the top of the embankment the River Yare was, and still an hour short of high water.

At Wroxham, the River Bure was also very high, flooding out into the road at one point. The long stage up to Wells was giving us cause for concern because of its exposure to wind. We came to our first road closure at dusk, with power lines down. As they weren’t sparking and the verge was clear, so we picked our way through carefully.

We took a break at Melton Constable, because I reckoned Wells would be shut by the time we arrived, it being the first day of the new 10pm curfew. We went to the Indian as usual, well worth the wait, and we could hang around inside – plus there’s a large five star bus shelter at the top of the village to eat our feast.

Further up the coast, near Wighton, the lane was blocked by fallen trees. But again, with a bit of clambering, we got through, though. Arriving shortly after 10pm, Wells-next-the-Sea was indeed all closed up for the night.

Now on our way south and with a tailwind, we were flying along on good main roads, with just a short break out of the wind and rain at a sheltered bench in Swaffham marketplace. We then continued to Barton Mills Services, which were shut. No McDonalds or service from the shops. We wandered between the two garages hoping to get some sympathy and eventually the chap at the Esso garage took pity and passed cups of coffee out.

It was by now quite cold, but we had enough snacks to keep going so just pushed. As it got lighter near to home, I began to dream of a sit down indoors and a proper breakfast, but the Paradise café in Dunmow wasn’t yet open, so we went our separate ways. Job done for Dean and me, with Jan and Raymond having their last 30 or so kilometres to go. It was a bit of an anti-climax after a phenomenal effort, but too cold to hang about or savour the moment.

In October I’d hoped it might be possible to put on the Richard Ellis Memorial Audaxes, but with all the restrictions this proved impossible. I rode a 100km with Raymond, and the following day a 200km with Elliot Howard-Jones, Mick Gray and Andrew Turner. On the latter we met up with Richard’s widow Mary for a leisurely lunch at the Maglia Rosso café.

Nick Wilkinson’s Autumnals miraculously happened, with a field limited to 30 for each event. I rode the 100, as it is more or less 50km to the start from my front door. Four of us out of the group of six who started stuck together – a refreshing change to do this with three riders I didn’t know well.

On the last day of the month I rode Grant’s 3Rs 100km permanent with him and a small group. I’d made a pact to stick with Deniece Davidson if she needed company on any ride, as she was taking her first steps back into long distance cycling following cancer treatment. It was a damp day and very windy and the roads seemed unusually busy – perhaps people taking their last chance before the impending November lockdown number two.

With Wednesday evening pub rides now out of the question, I met up with Steve for some rule-of-two trips in the dark around mid-Essex. There were a few minor floods here and there, and a spectacularly wet Saturday ride down to Maldon, a portent of things to come.

It appeared likely that my Stansted Airport Express 100km could take place, with appropriate precautions, so Deniece and I rode round to check the route. On 5 December we had 28 starters, with a few unable to make it due to the tier restrictions.

My final 200km of the year was Bricks and Moretaine on a damp, cold day, brightened by a chance meeting with Phil Whitehurst in the Chilterns. On the return, near Newport, the sun finally broke through at sunset with the weirdest rainbow I’ve seen, in a year of rainbows: just the red through yellow of the spectrum. A strange end to a strange year.