Well, my tent arrived and everything was present and correct. I had a fun Saturday morning experimenting with trying to put it up in the living room. I had the devil of a job keeping the cats away from it (not to mention banging the pegs in) so figured I really needed to test it properly out in the field. Or in a field.
The tent is amazingly light. While it comes in quite a large stuff-sack, I found with a little squeezing it would collapse down to truly tiny size - in fact, I could get the entire tent, poles, footprint as well as sleeping matt and bag in one not-quite-filled pannier.
This was pretty exciting, as it suggested that I might be able to get everything inside my panniers for my next tour. The previous three years, I had relied upon a rather large Ortlieb waterproof sack which I'd bungee cord on top on my rack. Apart from being unwieldy and weighing a fair bit in itself, it also had a tendency to accumulate water and keep the tent in a fairly gross condition - it had stayed saturated for about 4 days straight on my last days in Czech republic. By taking up a bit more space in my panniers it might also persuade me to pack a bit lighter than I normally do.
Either way, I got a great kick out of being able to pack everything needed for a comfortable, weather-proof shelter in one light bag.
To this end, I thought it a good time to try some loaded riding again. One back pannier would be the aforementioned sleeping stuff. The other would be my standard day ride tools/clothes/food. I loaded up the front two with random books to add some ballast.
The Shift is loaded up again! It's just books in my front panniers. On the other hand, I don't think anyone unfamiliar would guess I've got a full tent and sleeping gear in one of the back ... which hopefully should make me even more inconspicuous when hunting out wild camp sites...
I had a vague plan to ride the Flying Bum route towards Bedford. I knew some out-the-way pastures and woods, which I reckoned would be a good place to have an undisturbed practice putting up the tent under real conditions.
The weather was volatile and very windy. But as usual, the loaded Trucker felt nimble and stable. Within a kilometre I was riding off-road.
Still stable, even on the sandy tracks above Potton
I left the cycleway at Danish camp, busy with families, and the little village of Cople behind and struck offroad into the surprisingly sparsely populated area of fields of and coppices between the village and the ridge. My original plan had been to head for some more substantial woodlands along more obscure tracks that I'd never tried out before - I wanted to find somewhere discreet to try putting up the tent, mostly just to avoid an awkward conversation with any passers by: "No, I'm just practising. I'll be gone in a minute. Look - my panniers are full of books. Don't worry, I'm not a weirdo!".
But as I made my way along the deserted track in the golden afternoon sun I realised there were loads of great patches of cover and I was unlikely to be bothered. It's the strange thing: when I'm planning covert camping (and this even applies to foreign trips) I massively overestimate how off-grid I'll need to go to remain hidden when I'm planning. I've included 20km detours in order to get to a 5km square "solid" piece of woodland. It's only when you're on the ground and you get your eye in, you realise there are all sorts of little places you could discretely camp for the night, and even more that would be in a pinch. This goes doubly in England, where it's often so easy to get off road on the public bridleways and away from watching eyes.
The little copse I stopped at, miles from the village and surrounded only by empty fields, was a good deal better than that. In the very extreme distance I could see a family playing on the artificial mounds towards Bedford - but they were so far away I needed to use the camera zoom to resolve them as people.
Now this is a *great* potential camping spot. Just a nice copse, next to a barely-used path, surrounded by fields.
I'm getting the hang of the new tent now, after some "ah-ha!" moments when following the rather skimpy instructions, and figuring out the footprint for which there are none. Critical piece of information: the red arch pole *must* go over the blue long ones! It's a bit different from the Duolite in pitching inner-first. While this added some speed to getting the Duolite up, it also meant there was a tendency for inner-and-outer to be buddled wet together for many days in a row. Anyhow, I'm keen to develop speed in putting it up, to avoid exposing the inner to rain during the inevitable times it'll be bucketing down. The inner is a bit more conspicuous than the (very well camoflaged) outer too, but to be honest, the act of putting up the tent and waving long poles around is never super-discrete, so I don't think it matters too much.
And here's the outer, all pegged out. I don't think I've got it quite 100% straight, but it's not bad. One thing noted: as part of the "superlite" drive, they supply a bare minimum of pegs. Will probably take a couple of sturdy ones along too.
The taughtness and sturdiness of the design, particularly in the porch is *much* better than the Duolite - this was its significant weakness, and often lead to wet shoes.
I mean I had to get in to test the size. It's a bit bigger than the Duolite! (I've got my feet out the end here purely to avoid bringing my shoes inside).
It was such a great spot I actually considered just stopping and camping here for real - especially as the weather dramatically turned, the wind started blowing and there were a few drops of rain. I zipped up the tent and enjoyed the cosiness - though remembered I had precisely nothing for dinner.
Of course what should then happen but I hear children's voices. Clearly it was a family out for a stroll, so I stayed put, rather than pop out the tent and have the aforementioned awkward conversation. I mean I'm certain they wouldn't have cared, but it just seemed easier to stay quiet. They must have felt the same, as they gave the tent a wide berth and continued on.
10 minutes later - where's the tent?! I also got thoroughly paranoid that I'd left one of the pegs in the soil. Thorough searching did suggest I'd got them all, though.
I continued the ride, battling the wind, with alternating threatening cloud and glorious sunshine. I was barely noticing the load any more, despite having to climb up the steep Greensand.
View from the top of the ridge back towards the airship hangers at Cardington and Bedford, beyond
It's hard to capture strong wind photographically. Fortunately there are lots of minor airfields around these parts with horizontal windsocks to demonstrate just how windy it is.
The wheat is turning golden now. Wheat is getting a bad rap recently, so I feel I should come out as a wheat enthusiast. Crusty bread, wholewheat pasta, and Bavarian wheat beer - yum yum yum. I could, and probably do, eat/drink a whole fields' worth every year.
Actually, I had to climb the ridge twice, after descending back into Biggleswade.
I'll confess some fatigue on the second climb up through the RSPB!
Coming into Potton, "Spoonville" has slowly been more and more populated by the local kids. This seems to have become a bit of a lockdown tradition - most places, like Biggleswade, have painted stones. I like the way Potton's gone for extra inventiveness!
