Dunwich Dynamo
The biggest obstacle to my riding in the Dunwich Dynamo was removed when Ellen, my wife, graciously offered to pick me up after the ride. Since the ride ends on the beach at Dunwich on Sunday at sunrise, this meant she would drive there on Saturday and spend the night. Without hesitation, she reserved a rental car and booked a VRBO. That problem solved, I got serious about my own preparation.
Having trained for, and participated in, several other sportives earlier in the calendar, I was in pretty good shape and did not feel a need to adjust my training schedule.
This being a night ride, I wanted to be sure that I had enough lights to see and be seen. Two red lights facing rearward, one on my helmet and one on my trunk bag, and a strong forward-facing headlight, are what I settled on. The manual of the headlight said that it would last 3 hours. Considering that I'd be riding about 8 hours, out of an abundance of caution, I packed 4 headlights, and 3 rear lights. It turned out to be an over-abundance of caution, but more on that later.
To test my kit, and as part of my attempt to turn my usual sleep/wake cycle on its head, I took a couple of late-night rides. I enjoyed the rides much more than I expected. With the stars overhead, peaceful night-sounds in my ears, and miles ticking by beneath the tires, what's not to enjoy? Night rides, at least during the summer, will continue to be part of my training.
In the week before the ride, I tried to sleep later and go to bed later than usual, but with mixed results. On the day of the ride, I tried to nap, but spent four hours lying awake. I guess it helped.
Because the ride is semi-organized, there is no registration, and no official start time. You just show up and ride. There is a route posted on the website, but no one will complain if you adapt it to your own needs.
With the goal of reaching Dunwich beach at sunrise, I aimed to start riding at 7:30 the night before. Arriving at Pub on the Park, in London, the traditional start of the ride, I was impressed by the number of bikers.
One thing that attracted me to the DD was my memories of a similar ride in my hometown. St. Louis, Missouri, where I grew up, has an annual ride called the Moonlight Ramble. Held every summer, on the Saturday night in August closest to the full moon, it's a midnight-start ride on closed roads through downtown St. Louis. It's not nearly as long as the DD, or as dark (because you're almost always under street lights), but the sense of nighttime adventure is the same. I rode it as a kid, and then later Ellen and I rode it with our two daughters. It's a bit tight now, but a shirt from the 1984 Ramble has pride of place in my T-shirt drawer. 
According to RideWithGPS, I started riding at 7:09. A little over an hour later, I crossed over the M25, and things were starting to look more rural. The sun was setting over my left shoulder, and I stopped to take it in.
Scouts in Fyfield had set up a feed station, complete with hot food. I stopped there for dinner and couldn't help noticing the Pinoy Brompton Cycle Club. They were riding 100 miles on folding bikes! Some of the bikes were decorated with strings of small, colorful lights – like mobile Christmas trees. Some bikes were carrying stereos. The helmets of some of the members were decorated with zip ties that stood straight up. They were really enjoying themselves!social.trom.tf/photos/dirk/ima…
Bromptons weren't the only unexpected bikes I saw on the ride. There was the penny- farthing that I passed at another feed stop. And the mother towing two of her kids in a trailer, all the way from London to Dunwich! And the guy carrying his dog on a cargo bike. I found the ride challenging enough on my regular road bike; I can't imagine how much harder it was for these folks.
The route itself was well chose: the roads were good with rolling hills; no long, grinding uphills; not much traffic; the towns and stops were evenly spaced. As with my after-dark training rides, this night ride was very pleasant.
My second lengthy stop was at The Wheatsheaf in Castle Hedingham at about 11 pm. When I walked in, a man saw me, in my helmet and biking gear, and said “Oh, here's another one.” The seven other men at the bar turned around as one and I found myself the centre of attention. Questions came my way: “Would you like a pint? Would you like some crisps? Are you satisfied with your progress?” I felt a little embarrassed asking for the loo, but some things can't wait. After taking care of business, and answering questions, I retired to a table in the garden, to enjoy my ginger beer in peace. (Being a celebrity is so demanding!) I had stayed on my bike past some popular food stops in the last 90 minutes, and perhaps was now in the vanguard of the DD riders, making me a novelty to the regulars at the Wheatsheaf.
I was 52 miles in – about halfway. Feeling a rest had been earned, I spent some time texting friends and relations in the US with updates on my progress.
I keep feeling that I should describe the scenery, but I saw precious little of it. All there was to see was the tunnel of light in front of the bike, and the road it illuminated. Sometimes there were trees over the road; sometimes there were hedges next to it. I should go back sometime to see what I missed.
My next stop was the feed station in Needham Market at about 1:30. As usual, I was surprised by the number of riders – there were just so many. Vendors were selling hot food and drinks in a park next to a lake. I sat down on a bench. Nearby, a couple of friends were discussing the meaning of life. One of them, an American, seems to have come to the UK expressly for the DD. If they arrived at any profound conclusions, I do not remember – I was pretty tired.
I expected to get to the beach between 4 and 4:30. Ellen wanted to meet me there, but her VRBO was not close, so she requested plenty of advance notice. According to my phone history, I called her at 2:37 am. I felt sorry about waking her up. God bless her!
For most of the ride, I had seen plenty of other riders, but by this time it wasn't unusual to be alone on the road for significant stretches.
The closer that I got to the beach, the harder the ride became, not because of the route itself – the hardest parts were behind me – but because I was tired, sleep deprived, and losing motivation. Ellen thinks it was because I wasn't eating enough. Maybe so. All I had in my water bottles was energy drink, but I was sick of it. There might have been places to stop for water, but I was too stubborn to stop. I don't remember seeing any feed stations in the last couple of hours. They may have existed, but I suspect that, like me, most riders were too focused on getting to the beach.
Sometime before I checked it around 3:45, the rear light on my bike ran out of power, but the one on my helmet was still working. My front light was still working too. It seemed fainter, but I didn't know if this was because it was losing power or because the eastern sky was getting brighter; dawn had begun. In any case, I was unwilling to stop and make any changes. I brought so many extra lights, and they were heavy, but I didn't use any of them!
In spite of my waning motivation, I did make it to the beach at 4:19 am, 9 hours and 11 minutes after leaving Pub on the Park. Ellen was there with food and words of praise and comfort. We waited for sunrise, which was at 5:04. There were plenty of people already there, with a long queue for food. A couple of motor coaches were in the parking lot, chartered to take riders and bikes back to London. Exhausted riders were slumbering on the beach, waiting for the coaches to depart.
The sunrise wasn't as dramatic as we'd hoped, being behind a cloud, but it was gratifying none the less.
I took a dip in the ocean, as a number of other riders were doing as well, and then we heading back to Ellen's VRBO. I took a shower and it felt wonderful, then we headed home.
