Range Anxiety

October 12, 2024

The long road home

Note the very straight line towards the end section. It becomes relevant a bit later in our tale.

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Here in the UK, we're struggling to hit our targets for the transition to electric vehicles. This might be because, outside of London, you're almost as likely to spot a flamingo as a functional charging point. It may also be because EV's are more expensive and often have the aesthetic qualities of a slab-sided portakabin. But the most frequently cited reason seems to be range anxiety: the uncertainty that (given previous notes on charging infrastructure) you'll actually be able to reach your destination without running out of power altogether.

You don't hear about range anxiety so much in the context of pedal-powered vehicles, but Raven and I like to break new ground. Today, we had range anxiety of our own.

Why? Well, I'd gone to bed the night before moving like a hospital patient. My achilles strain had stiffened to the point that I'd lowered myself into a taxi for the ten minute walk back from town to the hotel, and by the morning, things weren't a whole lot better. No idea why. But today was looking like almost a hundred miles, heading westwards into the wind. In short, making it back was going to be a challenge.

We'd try to find some locations to refuel with cake, for sure, but there's a point beyond which this decreases your cycling range, rather than increasing it. Believe me, I've tried. And this wasn't really about energy, it was about managing an injury. Of course, you might suggest that it was slightly mad to get back in the saddle at all, but sanity is often over-rated. I thought I'd give it a go, and see how things went.

I prepared for the day with a good old hotel buffet. £9.99 for granola, yoghurt, croissant, sausage eggs bacon mushroom tomato hash brown. At least that would make the downhills easier. Sadly, they didn't open the restaurant until 0800, which meant that it was a bit later than I'd wanted before we got onto the road. But by around 0910, I was creaking along the back roads of Bournemouth in a westerly direction, counting off every half mile and telling myself that I only had to repeat that a couple of hundred times.

It was probably the hardest cycling I've done; I became very aware of the stress that your feet and ankles soak up in acting as suspension, and (depending on pedalling style) in taking up the slack of downhills. I spent the first few miles working out how to compensate with different pedalling and varying bike position. It was slow, and painful, progress.

By about eight miles in, as the heavens briefly opened, I pulled over and looked at my rail app for a contingency plan. Apparently, I could get to nearby Wareham train station quite easily. From there, I'd have a four hour journey, costing £50, with three train changes and no possibility of guaranteeing a bike space, particularly since there was an alert that one of the trains was short of carriages. Plus, there'd be a 50 minute walk between stations at Yeovil. Honestly, this didn't feel like a great option.

A bit more research, and I decided to try for the coffee break destination of Dorchester, at 30 miles. There was a train station there too, albeit on the same line, and I figured that I could make it if I just plodded on. The roads were pretty decent, and I really didn't want to wave a white flag so early. So, on we went.

Dorchester should have been a couple of hours away, but we made it there in about three. Part of this was because the main road in was very much closed, but most of it was because of taking things easy. We passed Dorchester train station just as the train which we might have caught was leaving. But by now, I wasn't too worried. I was loosening up a little, and that particular train route had looked quite unpromising anyway.

Our road to Dorchester. Fortunately, we managed to find an alternative which didn't add too many miles.

Plus, things always seem better when you've had a hot chocolate. With plum and almond cake.

Arguably, 1145 could be considered time for early lunch. But I was still dealing with a four course breakfast. So cake it was.

Raven waited outside; I would have joined her, but they'd taken the seats in as a result of the earlier rainstorm.

Our café was actually in Poundbury, which is essentially a western suburb of Dorchester. Poundbury is a lovely little place: its development was personally championed by prince (now king) Charles. It was intended to create a car-light, human-scaled town, with attractive architecture and traditional features. And it is, in my view, rather pretty, albeit others might bemoan the lack of anything at all modern or cutting edge.

Poundbury streetscape. I have to say, they also have traditional British potholes, one of which nearly sent Raven and I sideways.

One of the main streets through Poundbury. Lots of the larger buildings are apartments.

I spent a bit of my cake time doing further research. If I was cycling onwards, then I'd have to commit to a couple of big climbs, plus, realistically, a further thirty miles. This would take me to Axminster, in Devon, already slated as my second refreshment stop. And at this point, we'd be on the main line in to Exeter. Hourly trains, taking us 30 miles and through the Blackdown hills, for £8. Now that felt like a far more attractive contingency. I decided to go for this: although I might just manage the entire ride I'd planned, there was little point in doing it if I was crippled for the next week, and all of the territory I'd be skipping was already well known to me. So I clipped back in, roused Raven, and urged her forward again.

I'd planned a direct route back, avoiding some of the back lanes in favour of faster, better-surfaced roads. This took me along one of the county's main routes and I took my chances up some steep hills, including the first big climb shown on RWGPS, whilst on a dual carriageway with cars passing me at 70mph. I was doing about seven. But I tend to find our car drivers very considerate on the whole, despite the bad press they often get. It's lorry drivers watching youtube that you need to watch out for. Luckily, they were elsewhere today, or perhaps driving into a hedge half a mile behind me.

And after a few miles, we slipped back onto some of the country roads that would take us back towards Axminster. There was the small matter of a hefty two mile climb to get over, and then we dropped back down the long hill into town and the train station.

Country roads, take me home, to the place I belong...

A moral victory, making it this far. We were back in Devon, on home turf.

Arriving at the station, I found the ticket office closed, and the train app was now proclaiming technical issues. The ticket machine didn't have an option to reserve a bike space, so I pressed the button for video help and naïvely looked forward to a simple transaction. Apparently though (and worth knowing) they can't book you a bike space from the ticket hub, you should email them a couple of days beforehand. Honestly. I was advised that I could buy a ticket for me, pray to the gods, and hope that Raven might be admitted at the guard's discretion.

I felt certain that the guard would be discreet, and if he/she wasn't, I would disguise Raven as a bush with a twig or two from the nearby hedge, and employ some discretion of my own. I bought the ticket, and we took our chances.

Parked up at Axminster station, waiting to see what the guard's discretion might entail.

Raven on the train. Uncertain as she was about this new mode of transport, she insisted on wearing a helmet.

The train was on time, the guard was obliging, and Raven had two free spaces. And in forty minutes, we'd travelled thirty miles. Tempted though I was to leave my satnav on, and take the credit for some 90mph stretches, I pressed the pause button, and it plotted a straight line until we descended at Exeter's main station, St David's. From here, I could have boarded another train for the remaining ten miles or so. But the route back via Exeter river and canal cycle path was flat, and my leg strain wasn't worsening, so I wheeled Raven out through the ticket barriers and steered a course homeward.

The start of the riverside cycle path, heading towards Exeter's quayside. It was a lovely day now, and I was buoyed by the knowledge that I'd probably make it out of this alive now.

I do recommend the route, although you wouldn't want to be distracted by your mobile phone and head too far to the left.

Exeter quayside: the busy bit. Bell very much required. Raven, being an attention-seeker, loves it.

And in about thirty five minutes, we were back. End of tour one, and a decent day's mileage in spite of everything. I hobbled upstairs, climbed into a hot shower, and ate chocolate. The house was devoid of cake, and if today had taught me anything, it was that you have to be open to reasonable contingencies.

I zeroed the satnav a mile from home. This felt like a pretty respectable distance in the circumstances.

A day later, and I'm pleased to report that I'm pretty much fine again. I'm going to do some intensive stretching in the next few weeks, and am already planning the next excursion. I was lucky with this one: mostly good weather, nice hotels, and some really interesting waypoints. I've enjoyed taking a bit more time to explore those locations between the start and the end of the ride, and I've found out quite a bit more about some places on my doorstep as a result. I think a car trip to Glastonbury might even be on the cards.

So now, I'm looking forward to the next cycle tour.

What do you think our chances are for a sunny three days in December?

Today's ride: 72 miles (116 km)
Total: 228 miles (367 km)

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Robyn RichardsThanks, Mark. I enjoyed the British scenery nearly as much as your British sense of humour.
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1 month ago

Mark BinghamAnother successful tour! Very enjoyable... keep writing about them! (and glad to hear your Achilles pain is better)
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1 month ago