I seemed to be in at the ground floor with the boom in cycle sportives, riding on the crest of the London Olympics wave.
Back in 2012, you couldn't move for stockbrokers on eye-wateringly expensive bikes in the leafy lanes around Box Hill. Before working in cycling retail, I had endless weekends free and was probably doing an average of two sportives a month from April to October. Every new event I tried had to outdo the previous one, with medals, T-shirts, goody bags, timing chips, KOM, and sprint sections. It all got a bit too much, and I haven't really done a road sportive since before lockdown.
The combination of a short period of furlough and a growing interest in gravel got me into exploring the countryside in a hunt for a new passion - Craft Brewing. When 'Things' all got better, I pursued my interest in beer, to the extent that my cycle rides began to gravitate around local tap rooms. My gravel bike has been a more than capable pack horse to carry back what was not safe to drink 'en velo'.
So, when I was asked to try out one of the events being offered by Let's Go Velo that starts and ends at a brewery, what could I say but "Cheers"?
I picked a ride up near Chipping Norton, nestling in the cuddly-sounding Cotswolds; and, because I like trips away in my vintage VW T4, decided to combine the event with a long weekend away with the missus.
We camped about 8 miles from the Hook Norton Brewery Event HQ, so l left my wife in peace and book-ended my day with a forty-minute warm-up/cool-down each way.
Let's Go Velo set up in the yard of the imposing Victorian Tower that is the heart of the Hook Norton Brewery. It was like a walk down memory lane for me - sign in was quick and easy, a tick off on a list, a couple of cable ties and a dossard to strap to the handlebars. The refreshing absence of a timing chip made it feel much less like a race and more like a social ride - I know, the briefings always say "It's not a race" but there's nothing like a timing chip to ignite the competitive streak in some.
We were ushered to the start gate and, after a briefing bereft of unnecessary details, unleashed onto a series of beautifully undulating country roads: some, it seemed, the only ribbon of tarmac for miles around.
There was a threat of rain in the air, but it never got more menacing than the spray from opening a cold brew, fresh from an ice bucket. You can tell my mind began to fast forward to the finish line, where a complimentary beer was on offer for anyone who wanted one.
I enjoy riding a sportive on my own - alone, but not lonely - but there's always the chance of a brief conversation with a fellow traveller. I noticed, as I'm apt to do, the variety of bikes that snaked along the countryside with me. Hybrids, MTBs, race bikes with TT bars, gravel bikes, wide ratio one-bys like mine, endurance bikes, disc brakes, canti's, vee-brakes - all cycle life seemed to be here, and everyone was having a great day.
Well, almost everyone. I passed a few, hunched over upturned frames quietly cursing their luck and often stubbornly waving help away, but in sure and certain knowledge that no one would be left behind; mechanical assistance was on hand along with gloomy promise of a broom wagon, with maps, instructions and contact numbers as part of the info pack offered at sign in.
Aside from the peaceful country lanes - almost none of this ride seemed to be tainted with traffic - there were a couple of peaks on the otherwise zen-like wobble of the route's profile, the first of which hit so unexpectedly I'm sure everyone's internal "WTF" could be heard above the birdsong and the background rumble of tummies yearning for the feed station at 20 miles. Up and over the highest hill in Warwickshire, west of Illmington, brought some colour to the cheeks in prep for the queue for the toilets and for refilling bidons.
At the feed station we found plentiful supplies of bananas, jelly babies, and wrapper-less energy bites from One Good Thing, which I'm guessing were Cherry Bakewell flavour. The snack shots are coated in a thin layer of edible beeswax (although I was so hungry I would probably eat a Mars Bar with the wrapper on after that climb) that prevents the contents from seeping out into your pockets on contact with whatever moisture you happen to be battling.
I grabbed a couple for 'Ron' and pushed away on the home leg, sensibly rejecting the right turn onto the Full Pint route a few more miles down the way.
The scenery and weather continued to be pleasant and were a handy distraction from the distance I was clocking up - each time I looked at my GPS unit, I had to do the mental maths to deduct my effort from the campsite to the start, so I was surprised to see that in no time at all the excellent signage pointed in the direction of a road that claimed to be 5 miles from the end.
Unfortunately, this road also took the ride up Whichford Hill, a ramrod straight slog that lacked the venom of Nebsworth Hill back at the 20 mile mark but sapped the last ounce of hope from many legs that afternoon. But, seeing as there's always a downside, the gravity-assisted, stupendously rapid descent down the other side was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure.
The final turn into the brewery wasn't welcomed with the squawk of timing equipment but the smell of burgers and smiles from the helpers at the check-in, now a check-out, desk. With my number returned in exchange for a bottle of Hooky beer, there was plenty of space to flop down and recover. After noshing down a very welcome burger and an ill-advised visit to the brewery shop - your bottle cages aren't designed for tins or glass - I ground my way back up, it seemed, an endless hill to my campsite the other side of Chipping Norton.
I had an amazing day. I loved everything about the event. The route was challenging without being too daunting (some may disagree, but I'm playing the life cards I've been dealt). I certainly didn't miss the over-complication that 'tech' often brings to a sportive, and I have no desire to add to the meaningless pile of medals and 'finisher' T-shirts that I've collected in the last decade.
I think Let's Go Velo deserves plaudits for distilling the essence of a great day's cycling and working out that all good bike rides (for the likes of me at least) end with a relaxing beer.
I was invited on the ride to review it, but I've been so impressed that I'm going to sign up for another couple this year on which I can challenge myself to do the Full Pint ride and not have to steel myself to another hour or so in the saddle with cans in my pockets, dragging the back of my shirt dangerously close to the rear wheel.
If you like a brew and you love your cycling, this is the perfect day for you.
There are nine more rides in the Let's Go Velo sportive series this year. Check out event details and enter at www.letsgovelo.co.uk/sportives.
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