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The Hell of the Ashdown

Having ridden last season's closing Exmoor Beast sportive, The Hell of the Ashdown seemed an appropriate title for the start of this season's. Graeme notes below his remembrance of Pooh Bear in connection with Ashdown Forest, yet I don't recall Pooh brandishing a trident (though his jumper might have been red). Maybe that would have been the end of Piglet. How many riders this would be the end of remained to be seen.

The sun cracked through the buildings, then trees on the 7.42 Faustian rumble from Charing Cross to Orpington and from there it was a short ride to the sunny gates of hell at Knockholt Pound. The Rapha riders assembled for a 9.30ish depart in the company of the newly formed Rapha Condor Recycling team. Whether they had sold their souls and in that case to whom I was unsure of, but I was sure they alone could hold any mirth about the climbs ahead. When they paused and wheeled round in the road to wait for a puncture victim (no doubt of a trident armed Pooh lurking in the ditch) I carried on, not an attack - but I wondered how long it would take them to catch up.

The Arctic Shorter Rochford team proved to have the speed and descending skills of the earlier 7.42 and I clung to their wheels through the narrow slip and gravel to the top of the hairpinless Wall, one of the most feckless pieces of road-building in England, disregarding physics in a bloody minded tarmac punch into the sky. Here I made the mistake of switching allegiances from the Arctic team to Whitewebbs CC who I cursingly fleed on the next ascent to realise Kent might be a bigger green thing than I previously thought.

20k on, Dean Downing was playing the train driver, stoking the Rapha Condor Recycling engine. Discreetly re-joining the back seemed natural, 'wheelsucker' it says on their arses. Heh. When the road went up again, it was Ide Hill (they managed to put a bend in this one), and as I began to chew my handlebar, Monsieur Gabellini bid his adieu. "Never sacrifice style for speed" John Herety had mocked him at the beginning. My brain didn't have oxygen capacity to contemplate either but I regained contact with the RCR train just over the top. Dean claimed his legs hurt from previous days effort, but his little attack on the last climb was enough to leave my approach to the arrivée straggling with the stragglers.

Hell is riding 100k around Kent in fruitless search of a Rapha support vehicle, containing refreshment filled musette's. Heaven only comes when it turns up 20 minutes after you've finished.

Ride Details

Riders from the Rapha-Condor-Recycling.co.uk team and Rapha-Lifeforce women’s team joined us on the ride. Riders included Dean Downing, Graham Briggs, and Ryan and Adam Bonser.

Catford CC marshalled the course, and the rest and feeding stop at the Wheatsleaf pub at Bough Beech. The famous Rapha broom wagon didn't rendezvous with Rapha riders at an additional rest stop where coffee and tea would be available and a Rapha musette with lunch would be handed out due to an unforeseen injury to one of the party.

Full route - on www.bikeradar.com

Route list (Word format)

Catford CC website

Route Recce

This past December we sent out Graeme Raeburn, to ride the route.

I smirked when I heard the name; Ashdown Forest? Home of Pooh Bear and Sunday afternoon kite flyers? As a lover of ascents I was intrigued. I know the area and regularly pass near the ‘biggy’ of Kidds Hill, but I have never met a real challenge. I decided to head down early one clear and blustery morning to investigate…

Kidds Hill at the half-way point of the route is a true beauty of a climb, marked by distinctive changes in pitch and character rising through ancient woodland onto the top of Ashdown Forest . Wonderfully deceptive, the initial steep section presents itself to you, then reveals an easing mid-section before ramping it up again for the final crest.

Shortly after leaving Hartfield (and passing ‘The House At Pooh Corner’) you get a feeling of entering the forest as the terrain changes, and the route soon takes you off the faster road and onto the quieter approach to the hill.

On the lower section, I cursed myself for mocking the title (and my distinct lack of climber’s form) and soon settled into a rhythm to balance the lactic pain, well aware that this climb can hurt as much as you want it to. Mid-way I was starting to enjoy the challenge, and by the time I’d cranked over the top I was ecstatic to have discovered a new favorite climb that would hurt time after time.

Upon completing Kidds Hill, you are rewarded with a fantastic view over the forest, and a further few hundred metres brings you to a forked switch-back and onto the route the Tour de France took in ’94 (albeit the other way) and a glorious fast descent. And more hills.