Saturday 19th March – London to Surrey & West Sussex

So. The big day. Hammersmith to Plaistow (West Sussex) for me, and Clapham to Wonersh (Surrey) for Clare. Fortunately, it was a beautiful sunny day, and we decided to meet at Tooting Bec station before heading onto the A24 towards Dorking. I dispensed with my A to Z in favour of a lighter bag (“Oh it’s just a straight line after Wandsworth Bridge”), so quickly the start of my trip went rather wrong as I attempted to navigate the very confusing set of cycle lanes at Wandsworth Bridge Roundabout, and discovered that it’s not just straight on after the bridge because that’s a duel carriageway that I’m probably not allowed to cycle on even if I wanted to (I don’t). I somehow end up near the common, at a dead-end. With the help of a friendly passer-by and a phone call to Clare I arrive in Tooting, exhausted already. We finally get going, and head off on one of Boris’ bright blue cycle superhighways, which at first I’m excited about, and then wonder what the point of them is if London transport are also going to mark out parking spaces in them so you spend most of your time having to pull out into traffic anyway. We got to Ewell, and then discovered that the A24 turns into another scary duel carriageway (see previous comment…) and so we stood at the door of the handy BP garage, me guarding the bikes, and Clare finding us maps to consult to find an alternative route (No. We didn’t bring a map with us. I realise this was a bit silly.)

As we get to the outskirts of Guildford I’m beginning to flag. It’s not the up and down type hills that get me, it’s the relentless not-very-steep-but-stretching-into-the-distance hills that I don’t seem to have the patience for yet. There are one or 2 big ones, and on one Clare and I have to stop twice for breaks. It’s amazing how much of a different 30 seconds of rest makes… It was worth it just to come down from the very top of Guildford High Street (which makes me realise quite how much we’ve been climbing for the past however long) with the sun blazing down on us.

To Wonersh, the end of Clare’s journey and mile 35-ish. She offered me a lift back to my house but for the sake of completeness I have to push on and do the final stretch. We stopped for a final cup of tea and (lots of) chocolate cake (Clare’s aunt: “Goodness you have to get all the way to Plaistow now? That must be another 10 or 15 miles!”, Me: *grimace*, Clare’s aunt: “Better have some more cake…”). I head out the gravel drive, see Clare’s mum who’s just arriving by car and has stopped for me to turn out onto the road, with a huge queue of watching traffic behind her, attempt to wave, overbalance, manage a huge and noisy skid across the gravel, and with a yelp I’m off on my lone journey home. The hills for the most-part aren’t as bad as I’d expected, though on a particularly tough one only about a mile from home I slow down so much I simply grind to a halt. Onwards to home, and about 46 miles for the day.

We made it, and to be honest I wasn't sure we ever would, though it really put it into perspective when we thought about the fact that Albury, a village very near Wonersh, is the first stop, that's right, the first stop, of the first day of London to Paris. A mileage that's just taken us the best part of the afternoon and a lot of pain and much-needed breaks to complete. We're very proud of ourselves, but, there's a long way to go yet...