The Hell of the Ashdown

It was a bright, sunny but cold Sunday morning in February that greeted a hardy band of Boxford Bike Club cyclists gathered in a car park in Kent for the annual Hell of the Ashdown. Apart from Kelly, who had completed the ride before and seems to enjoy the pain of dragging his body though sixty miles of hell, the rest of us were unprepared for what lay ahead.

Parking the car in a local golf club car park we set off on a short ride to the start where we grabbed a quick coffee in the Westerham Brewery factory hall. Surrounded by hundreds of alcoholic delights the conversation quickly centered on how to attach an eight pint beer keg to the crossbar of a road bike which provided some much needed amusement before the main event and the torture that was to follow.

All too soon we were being called to the start and after a ‘reassuring’ lecture on the state of the roads and the need to ride with great caution during some sections we set off. Any thoughts we had that the name was just to put us off, or that Kelly’s description was an exaggeration, were soon dispelled as after just over two miles we launched ourselves into the first major climb, Toys Hill. At two hundred and fifty three feet and with an incline averaging seven point three percent this, the first of many climbs, certainly got the heart pumping and lactic acid pumping through our muscles. Two more long climbs, one Twyford Lane with a maximum gradient of ten point four percent,  and numerous smaller ones saw us all arrive safely at the first Feed Station after a mere thirty nine kilometers.

Following a nice cuppa and a few light snacks we set off to complete the middle section which, as Kelly gleefully told us, had only one long climb. What he didn’t tell us was that the climb was known as The Wall and had a maximum gradient of eleven point eight percent. At this point fed up with the oldest member of the group passing him Mr. Wagland engaged in some dastardly tactics by  attempting to halt the old boys progress by reaching out a long right arm and dragging him back. Sadly, for Mr. W It failed and the Old Boy serenely continued his slow but steady progress up the incline!

Feed station two saw us refresh ourselves for what was to prove the toughest section of the event with two beastly hills and around twenty kilometers still to cover. The first of the hills straight after the feed station is known as Hubbards Hill and with an average gradient of five point nine percent and a maximum gradient of thirteen point five percent it proved to be a long slog with some challenging sections. If we were becoming complacent with less than fifteen kilometers to the finish it was soon dispelled by the sight of Brasted Hill looming up ahead of us. At an average gradient of seven point two percent and a maximum gradient of sixteen point five percent (Our bike computers registered twenty percent!) this proved to be an absolute beast and a real sting in the tail. At speeds as low as two miles per hour, and passing riders who had surrendered and chosen to push their bikes, we ground our way the top and the relief of knowing that we were finally coming to the end of one of the most challenging rides in the cycling calendar.

All in all it was a excellent ride which challenged us all. Despite the undulating nature of the South Suffolk countryside nothing could prepare us for the brutality of the Kent countryside. Luckily the weather was on our side and with the company excellent I think it can safely be said that a good time was had by all. During a much deserved pint of Westerham Pale Ale it was suggested that we meet again same time, same place in 2023. Maybe!