South Downs Way - part 2

South Downs Way : 1-way

Day 2 : Friday 12th July by Paget Cohen

Impressively we were all up for a full English at 7:30, but Robin had decided to sit the day out as his knee was still sore.  The day dawned bright, but some welcome cloud cover arrived in time for the off.  Roger drove us back to the Buriton car park where we'd left off the day before - Kevin volunteering to perch among the bikes and rucksacks - and, after I'd reinflated Simon's tyres we hit the trial at 9:30.  The opening miles were some of my favourites of the whole route;  gently undulating lanes and tracks giving way to the spectacular vistas of Harting Downs where we stopped for a photo session.  Myself, Phil and Kevin were keen to press on and agreed to wait for the others at the next summit apparently visible in the near distance; unless of course the track disappeared into a hidden valley and reappeared somewhere completely different, which of course it did.  Fortunately we all followed the same signposts and regrouped at the same summit if not the one we anticipated.

Up ahead there appeared a very steep hillock and a large group of, seemingly unaccompanied, teenagers out for a walk.  Phil & Kev attacked it first, but the gradient was just too much.  I hung back to get a clear run up, but the Diamond Back flatly refused to engage the small chainring unless I got off and lifted it across by hand which rather cost me any momentum, but once back on the kids cheered me over the summit.  Leaving the youths and another climb behind we enjoyed good progress through the shade of some woodland along a ridge then plunged down to the road crossing at Cocking.  Foregoing the nearby cafe we settled for topping up our bidons at a farm in preparation for the ramp ahead.  Phil made the mistake of setting off first, putting him on gate duty halfway up and allowing Kev and I unbroken passage over the oddly smooth concrete track and to push on over the peak;  although that did mean a longer wait when we reached a suitably wide point to do so.

Emerging into fields we met three identically jerseyed roughriders who told us they had left Eastbourne at 4 that morning and by our calculations were already over half way.  At the gate at the bottom of the field we met another solo rider who had supposedly left 30 only minutes later, but we didn't meet Kevin who was back up among the crops cursing his and our first puncture.  To make matters worse he'd neglected to carry a spare tube and none of our fat tubes would fit his skinny tyres so he had no choice but to stop and patch.  At least the midday sun was now well and truly out to accelerate the glue drying.

Tube patched, tyre replaced and bellies full with the remnants of Roger's rounds of cheese and ham sandwiches we hit the trail for Amberley where we were due to meet the van and another mate Simon who was alighting from the train there and cycling back to meet us.  I'm glad to say Simon was sufficiently wise not to attempt Bignor Hill and we rendezvoused with he, his Trek and panniers at the top of Westburton Hill.  By now the weather was positively baking so a sustenance stop was rightly in order especially with the ascent out of Amberley looking fearsome on the profile.  I managed the tarmac intro easily enough, but I'll applaud anyone who can ride Amberley Mount eastwards without stopping.

I don't know if they rode up, but there were lots of other cyclists enjoying the views of Storrington and the ride along the ridge until the rude interruption of the A24.  Once we'd finished playing Frogger with the traffic Kev and I were not to be defeated by the climb up the other side, although in hindsight pushing on past Chanctonbury Ring with Phil, but not the others, was an error.  Not as big an error as losing the path and leading my mates astray mind you;  inexplicable given that I've ridden over Steyning Bostal down to Sompting and should have recognised we were off course.  In my defence the guys behind lost their way too and had to ring to check they were on the same track as us, and I had led us to a farm with a tap as expected, but Lychpole rather than Annington.  After riding on as a group still thinking we were in the right place I swallowed my pride and asked a man walking the path who effectively led us all the way back to the SDW.

Having progressed barely a mile in the past hour we could have done without Beeding Hill as we were all very tired, the sun was going down and the wind getting up, but then from the masts on Truleigh Hill we could finally see our Devil's Dyke destination, and, unless our eyes were deceiving us, the now beloved van.  So near yet so far, as we all should have learnt by now.  Up hill and down dale, dodging kite-fliers, scout troops and cows (but not their pats) until eventually at 10 to 8 I trickled into the pub car park to be greeted by Roger.  25 minutes later we were all together once more and only a quarter of an hour after our meal reservation.  Fortunately the Abergavenny Arms in Rodmell came up trumps - feeding 6 sweaty cyclists and their entourage at 5 to 9, enabling us to retire to Telscombe Youth Hostel around 10 and to have showered and slumped into bunk beds by 11.