Singletrack Magazine Issue 125 | Capital To Coast

Joining myself on the ride today is Toby Powell, who is also lucky not to have a proper job and able to pop out for a ride at the slightest sniff of good weather. Behind the lens is Matt Pitts, a friend and photographer who can drop tools and go on a ride all in the name of work.

Although we’re largely following the route of the annual London to Brighton off-road event run by the British Heart Foundation, we’re also adding in a few detours and distractions along the way to spice things up. After the obligatory bit of faffing, we set off in high spirits and join the off-road Tamsin cycle trail which skirts around the edge of the Richmond Park. Sadly, we somehow manage to miss spotting a single one of the numerous deer which inhabit this majestic park [Fenton! Oh, Jesus Christ! FENTON! – Ed], but the trail makes a nice easy start to our ride as we warm up our legs. 

Sour and sleepy. 

Weaving between the sour and sleepy faced commuters sitting in the Kingston upon Thames traffic only makes us feel happier and (more) smug, as we join the path alongside the River Thames. We quickly cover ground as we follow the good flat cycle trail which makes navigating dead easy. Not having to concentrate too much on where we’re going means we’ve also got the time and opportunity to absorb and appreciate our surroundings more. We peer through the golden gates of Hampton Court, try to guess the astronomical prices of the extravagant houses along the riverside, and weave between oblivious pedestrians engrossed in their phones. By the time we get to Walton-on-Thames though, our energy levels, which were earlier boosted by excitement, are starting to wane as we realise none of us have eaten or consumed nearly enough caffeine yet this morning. Thankfully we’re still in London where you’re never far from good coffee, so we pull over at Café Gino and settle down to devour platefuls of food and mugs of steaming coffee before carrying on our way.

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The surroundings suddenly become a lot less urban as we join a quiet canal-side singletrack around the back of huge riverside houses and palatial gardens and move into a world which seems so distant from the hustle and bustle of London we know. We follow this nice flowing dirt trail alongside the River Wey Navigation, with enough roots protruding from the ground and the threat of falling into the canal to keep us alert and focused. As we pass under the M25 it doesn’t sound like anyone is going anywhere very quickly, which is confirmed when we pass back over it again further on. 

We finally break out into the countryside proper at Wisley Common as we cross the motorway for the third and final time. It’s been fun and interesting going through the busy capital, dicing with cars, weaving through parks, and cruising along the riverside. But, cycling away from the drone of traffic, we join some lovely peaceful tracks between fields with horses and woodland where we can actually hear the birds singing, and we know the real ride is starting. We wend our way across the common, bashing through the encroaching undergrowth on the singletrack and pass through peaceful woodland. This theme continues as we ride between farmed fields, cross an old disused airfield and scatter thousands of pheasants, who wait patiently for wealthy Londoners to come and shoot them. Maybe gamekeepers are actually ecological heroes, as I swear if they didn’t breed these beautiful, stupid, prehistoric-looking birds, they would surely be extinct.

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Hitting the North (Downs).

We’ve now reached the edge of the North Downs, where a good rooty climb awaits us before the trail weaves between some bright green fields and we see the first signs of bluebells and blossom appearing. After such a dry winter we race along, making the most of the fast conditions. A mini concrete velodrome (known as a ‘dew pond’ to country folk), built to collect water for cattle, makes a good impromptu racetrack. Toby and I proceed to hoon around it until the loser, with a spinning head and completely blurry eyesight, has to bail out at speed towards the road or, even better, gets to topple down into the stagnant water at the bottom. It might not be big or clever, but it’s certainly fun behaving like irresponsible children. Especially when it’s Toby that tends to lose. Once our heads have stopped spinning and our stomachs have settled, we push on, heading for the idyllic chocolate-box village of Shere (which you may even recognise as it’s a popular filming location), where we have plans to stop for lunch at the lovely Dabbling Duck café. First, however, there is a great descent into the village to enjoy, which starts off fast and flowing before it points steeper downhill on a rough, narrow trail before chattering through a great little rooty section and on for a fast finish. Just watch out for the road near the bottom! Rolling safely into the village, we collapse at a table in the yurt in the Dabbling Duck’s back garden and proceed to order a selection of delicious food and drink. [There’s an emerging culinary theme here – Ed]

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Luckily the trails around here offer some amazing riding, otherwise we would happily lounge around in the café for much longer. Instead we take a slight detour from heading south to the coast, to go AWOL in search of some famous Surrey Hills singletrack. There are basically three hills where you’ll find some great riding, but we’re tight for time, so we head for the closest: Pitch Hill – the smallest of the three, but with the densest network of singletrack trails. We blast along El Capitan, Rollercoaster, Curly Wurly, and John the Baptist which delivers us down to Peaslake village, buzzing and keen for more. Then over to the central hill of Holmbury, home to some of the more widely known classic trails, such as Barry Knows Best, and the swoopy and bermy Yoghurt Pots, which leads on to Telegraph Row. This long, fast blast delivers us to the Holmbury St Mary YHA. Had we started from central London and wanted to make a weekend of the ride, we’d have stayed here. However, we have an important meeting at 4pm further down, so we have to concede that with neither time nor energy on our side we’ll have to turn-tail, leaving the Summer Lightning trail on Leith Hill for another day.  

Riding the penny.

After descending down the steep southern side of the North Downs we join some long, shallow singletrack which allows us to zip along at high speed with minimal effort, quickly covering ground once more. We soon pop out of the woodland singletrack at Cranleigh, where we join the Downs Link, an old disused railway line that provides a good, long, and traffic-free cycle route. This trail joins the North Downs to the South Downs, and although it doesn’t offer much in the way of technical riding, it’s easy to follow and a great way to get some miles in, enabling us to disengage our brains and just ride and chat. Which is just as well, as we’re into the second half of the day with a still significant way to ride. By the time we reach the town of Southwater though, we’re in the mood for a distraction, which comes not in the form of coffee and cake, but a couple of Penny Farthing sculptures in the centre that we climb aboard… 

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By the time Matt has pulled the camera from his pack, there is a gathering group of school kids and unimpressed parents looking on, so Toby and I quickly dismount and remount our proper bikes. The café by the Country Park here is pretty good, but it’s gone 3pm and with both the schools and the sun out we decide to steer clear. More to the point, we have a 4pm date with the Dark Star brewery in Partridge Green. They usually have brewery tours on Saturdays at midday, but James is kindly letting us in to have a nose around at closing time today so we daren’t be late for that. 

Born in Brighton in 1994, Dark Star has grown from something marginally bigger than a home-brew kit, to creating over five million pints a year, but they’ve still retained that small, fun and friendly feel. They brew over 25 different beers, including some favourites such as Crème Brûlée, Espresso, Sunburst and Hophead. They share a passion for cycling, and even have a bike I don’t have in my shed: the Beer Bike! After a few samples and additional purchases, we fill our newly acquired Dark Star bidons with some IPA, bid farewell and wobble down the road, ready to pull ourselves together with sustenance and coffee at the excellent Stan’s Bike Shack café, also in Partridge Green. Stan serves killer coffee and amazing flapjack, among other tantalising treats, but we sadly discover that Stan has shut up and gone home, so we have to push on with empty stomachs and light heads. 

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Tipsy breeding. 

Our tipsiness actually helps combat the fatigue which is now starting to set in, and our tunnel (slightly drunk) vision is so busy concentrating on trying to stay on the trail that the next few miles whiz by quickly, almost as if time was standing still, as we wobble and giggle our way to Upper Beeding. Now at the foot of the South Downs, we’re in desperate need of some solid nourishment, so we burst into the small newsagency and proceed to empty their shelves of munchies, which we stuff into our faces out on the street. Feeling somewhat more human, it’s now time to tackle the last of our real challenges for today (if you discount getting home) – the climb up onto the South Downs. 

Yes, we could wuss out and continue on the Downs Link along the valley bottom beside the River Adur, but now we feel there’s some dignity to maintain (or is it to build?), so with sugar flowing through our veins, we join the South Downs Way and hit the singletrack climb with renewed determination. The narrow sliver of trail does well to distract us from the slow grind, and we fight to maintain enough momentum to keep us upright. At a gate we stop to push our lungs back down our throats and enjoy the panoramic views that offer far-reaching views of the coastline. We’re not quite at the top yet, though, with still a shallow, but long and oh-so painful crawl to go, but it does deliver us to a YHA and an excuse to stop to refill water bottles from their tap. 

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We can almost smell the fish and chips, so we crack on, heading over the Downs and flying down a wide, rough track where impromptu races break out as adrenaline and excitement get the better of us. There’s just one final short pull up a hill, where a view down onto Brighton and sea disappearing off to the horizon greets us. With a sigh of relief and the knowledge that just a long descent down to Brighton means we’ve pretty much done it, we take a moment to appreciate the view and our achievement, give thanks to the winter miles that have helped us get here, and celebrate the start of hopefully another long and sunny season. 

This adventure is still to finish, however, so we start turning the pedals once again, building up some momentum that starts to carry us down the hillside. Some undulating terrain creates a natural pump track, before delivering us into a fast, narrow descent with drops and rocks to leap off along the way, for a fun-fuelled finale tempered only by having to look out for dog eggs. All that remains is a cruise down to cross the harbour, and then a gentle spin down the long promenade on the cycle path with the wind on our backs. We’re once again weaving between oblivious pedestrians and fruit-booters [Rollerbladers – ’90s Ed] in tight mini-shorts, and enjoy the challenges of being back in civilisation, albeit this rather flamboyant version. Our target, Brighton Pier itself, is still a reasonable distance, but it’s a fun run in, spinning effortlessly, people-watching as we go. We finally arrive at our real destination: Harry Ramsden’s fish and chip shop. I try to reassure myself that the smell of food is stronger than my day-long riding musk, although the expressions on people’s faces in the queue around me seem to indicate otherwise. And then at last I stagger back out into the now fading sun, loaded up with three big boxes of food that we hurriedly carry to the seafront to consume before it gets dark. As we gorge on our salty chips and battered fish, accompanied by some beer from our bidons, we gaze out to sea and reminisce about the day – how far we’ve been, how long ago it seems that we were dodging traffic and pedestrians in London, and how many different trails we’ve pedalled along to get here. What a way to welcome spring and kick-start the season for adventure.

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If you fancy doing this route as part of the British Heart Foundation event in September, go to bhf.org to find out more. Alternatively, head to Max’s website roughrideguide.co.uk if you fancy riding it at night and seeing the sun rise over Brighton for his Capital to Coast night ride 2020 event.

Gallery Extra

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