Essentials:
Date: Saturday 25th, Sunday 26th, and Monday 27th May
Routes:
Day 1: 107 miles Standard/73 Medium
Day 2: 116 miles Standard/ 83 miles Medium
Day 3: 112 miles Standard/57 miles Medium
Entry fee: £35 per day, £105 for all three days. Max 2000 participants.
Start: Somerton Sports Club, Gasson Lane, Somerton, Somerset, TA11 6HS. Ample free car parking.
Catering: hot/cold food available from Claud the Butler and the Rotary Club tent
Timing: Timing chips for taping to the seat tube.
Signs: Black arrows on yellow blackground.  GPX files available for download.
Roads: mixture of quiet scenic country lanes and also some busier roads.
Professional photography of the event by sportivephoto.com
Motorcycle support outriders on the route, motorbike mechanic with spare wheels, and support car.
Goody bag: medal. 

So this was it. The Tour of Wessex. It's on my doorstep so I've been hearing about it for years.  Apparently "The Tour of Wessex is the biggest multi-stage cyclosportive in the World". Effectively it's three sportives in a row. Three hilly sportives in a row. I know people who've done it.  I've admired them for doing it, in a kind of awestruck way. I've also always thought they were mad!  And all the time, in a small corner of my brain, a tiny little bit of me wondered what it would be like, and if, just maybe, I could do it. Man, I have to learn to shut that voice up - it gets me into all sorts of trouble!

It would appear the universe listens to that voice too...since Cyclosport were after someone to review it. My friend GB seemed glad of an excuse to do it again (for the third time!) and promised to keep me company all the way 'round.  Talk about the fates conspiring! I spent last week trying to eat as much proper food as I could, sleeping when I needed to, taking it relatively easy, and panicking at irregular intervals.

Day 1, Somerset:

At 6:45am on Saturday am, 15 minutes early as expected, GB was at the door, and the time had come. GB is not a morning person. I kind of am.  And I'm even more perky and irritating when I'm excited and caffeinated! You see I'd managed to convince myself that I didn't need to be nervous about Day 1. Well, it's just a sportive right?  And I think it's fair to say I've done a few of them. So I was up, and ready, and cheerful. It's the following days that were worrying me.

A 45 minute drive across the sunny, chilly Levels brought us to HQ at Somerton for the first time, and we were marshalled on to the playing field, past the tents of those choosing that accommodation option for the three days (£12 pp, per night), to park up.  Brave indeed there was no way I'd have even been attempting this without the thought of my own bed and bath every night!  We opted for the register then faff option - and registration couldn't have been more low key.  Turn up - tell them who you are, get your entry pack and that was it!

A quick trip to the posh Silver Street toilets and it was time for faffing proper.  We were joined by a couple of friends, all doing the same.  The main dilemma was how to attach the timing chip.  It's supposed to be mounted like this, but facing backwards which would be where my saddle bag lives and, being little, there is no space on my seat post for anything else! I did this...GB stuck his on his saddle bag mine ended up wrapped round to the right at some point, so whether or not it worked or not remained to be seen. The car park was full of people similarly moaning about them so it's not just me. People also do not like sticking things to their precious paintwork, even if there is room!

My Number Tag

The Start Line

By the time we were all sorted, the queue for the start had already grown well beyond the railings and riders were squeezing in from the back, the side, every which way really, which was a tad chaotic.  Riders were let off from 8:30 onwards, and we slowly crept towards the front and our turn.  And suddenly we were on our way.  No briefing, no announcement, no fanfare...just packs of riders heading off towards Somerton and the day's riding ahead.

Waiting To Start

And Off We Go

After a first, warming climb, we were heading out across the Somerset countryside, in flat and rolling fashion. Everyone was in fairly cheerful mode.  Fairly fast too, with a fair few groups flying past. Tempting though it was to hurtle off, I knew I had a long day(s!) ahead and that's no way to survive. It being fast and flat, there wasn't much to break riders up either. On the narrow roads past Glastonbury to Wedmore, where some of the road surfaces leave quite a lot to be desired, there was a fair amount of jostling going on. It's hard to avoid the potholes and the riders pushing past you on the outside, without warning, at the same time. It was a little bit hairy and after a few miles of that, by the time we got to the main road to go over Mudgley Hill I was a tad grumpy and also relieved to be hitting slightly larger roads.

Glastonbury Tor

Right, on to the big, nay iconic, climb of the day - Cheddar Gorge.  At that time of the morning, it was relatively tourist free, but the stream of colourful riders winding their way up the wiggly road were attracting quite a lot of attention and support from those who were there, including the staff from the Caves who were all wearing blue disco wigs!

Heading Up The Gorge

Cheddar Gorge Behind

The first section of the Gorge is the worst, culminating in one last very steep left hand wiggle. After that it gradually flattens out mile by mile, until eventually it feels almost flat by comparison, even if it actually isn't. We didn't climb together - that's not how climbing works - but regrouped somewhere before heading along the road across the top of the Mendips towards Priddy and the first food stop. Again, it's quite a fast road, but I was consciously reining it in a bit, and no-one seemed to object to that as I led the way there.

first Food Stop Chaos

The first food stop was, not to put too fine a point on it, chaos.  One layby, not big enough to contain all the riders milling around trying to get food and drink. The actual food table was like a scrum, or possibly like a horde of locusts descending...  It was a bit disconcerting. I managed to grab some jelly babies and a banana. All I really wanted to do was go to the toilet, and there weren't any! There was also nowhere for us "ladies", of which there were quite a few, to go and decently hide.   This meant an impromptu stop shortly afterwards, because there was no way I was going down Old Bristol Hill thus distracted.

Wells Cathedral

We flew down Old Bristol Hill, a little carefully as it's wiggly and the surface ain't great, and then made our way into Wells, past an unfortunate rider who had come a cropper at the A39 crossing and was being treated by flashing blues.

Group Riding

King Alfreds Tower Looms

The next section, around Bruton and the like, is less familiar to me, and also rather lumpy. There was some amusing chaos around the Royal Bath & West Showground which was preparing for the Bath & West Show by having a large escorted wide load arrive. Stationary traffic as far as the eye could see in all directions. Not a problem if you're on a bike though.

Nearly At the Tower

As we went along, and up, and down, our little group splintered and reformed from time to time, but it was all fairly pleasant. After all, G stands for Group. We came to the route split, where the more sensible Steve was going right, and chatted to the two lovely spectators there, as we regrouped one last time to say our farewells.  Then we headed off towards the dreaded King Alfred's Tower. I've been up it before. I know I can do it. Well at least I knew I could do it then could I do it now?  It was a timed climb, which always makes me giggle like that's ever going to be remotely relevant to me! You can see the tower from a long away away, inexorably getting closer. And the climb is still a killer. Max 18%?  More than that I reckon!  And in this instance local knowledge is a good thing - I knew what was coming, and how it goes. No rushing to get there for me - the climb real doesn't start for quite a long time. I'm pleased to report that I made it all the way up again. Without walking.  'Rah!  It did take me a little while to get myself back together again afterwards though, which meant I had time to take in, and take photos of, the very pretty bluebells thereabouts.

Made It Up The Tower

Bluebells

The second stop, also known as lunch, came at 53 miles in, and was at a village hall.  There was a long, slow moving, queue for the savoury rolls that were being made and handed out for lunch. I travel equipped, so I stuck to topping up the bottles and using the toilet instead.  The water was running very low so I'm glad I didn't get there any later...because no water would have been a bad thing. We kicked back in the sun for a little while before setting off on our way again. No rush, right?

Second Food Stop Queue

As a sportive day goes on, the miles and the scenery tend to blur what happened where, when? I know there was more climbing, inevitably, and a stretch of cycling across the top of the world that was glorious. It was lovely out there sunny, not too warm, scenic. It's a beautiful part of the world, especially when you know the hill you've been dreading is behind you!

On Top Of The World

Stourhead

The route also goes through and around the Stourhead estate, which came as a bit of a shock to the slow moving NT members ambling down the road oblivious to the trickle of cyclists descending towards and through them at considerable speed.  I was expecting the them though, having been there before, and I needed a stop for photos and so on anyway, so was happy to take it easy and enjoy the view.  It's not a race!

Third Food Stop

We came back to the route split, took the left indicated, and shortly afterwards came to the final foodstop, at 85 miles in, which left only 22 fairly flat miles to do.  Fairly familiar too, which does help on the pacing front. After topping up once more, at a much quieter though rather understocked stop - the up and down sides of being a slow rider - we were ready to get Day 1 done! We headed back through the country lanes at a reasonable, but not too fast, lick, until the last flying descent to wards Somerton, which I love, and had to make the most of.  Sadly it was followed by the last kick of a climb back up to Somerton itself which takes it right out of your legs.

Still, at that point, we were nearly there, we just had to go through a very pretty Somerton to return to HQ, and go back over the start line.We were clearly not fast, judging by the emptiness of the car park, but that was no surprise.  We didn't hang around for any apres ride stuff either. On went my compression kit, as recommended and advised, and we packed everything up and headed for home, eating as we went. Day 1 was done. 107 miles of mostly quiet scenic roads, with fairly polite traffic, lovely roadside supporters, rather too much dust for my contact lenses, and too many bugs in my helmet...but that's what you get when the sun shines. One third of the Tour of Wessex under our belts.

Cycling time: 7:11 hrs
Distance: 107.2 miles
Avs: 15.0 mph
Climbing: 1831 m

Don't forget to read Day 2 and Day 3!