SCC Night Ride 2023

James Leek, Alex, Alfie, Andy Z, Calvin, Duncan, Gaye, James D, Laurence, Mark, Mick, Mike, Ofer, Sameer, Steve Westcough, Steve Wright, Sean and Tat. 

As 18 riders set off from the top of Alexandra Palace, the annual SCC night ride had begun. This is a tale of flux, as you will see. Kicking off from Cafe Nero in Enfield at midnight, and picking up riders on the way, the pelotons total number waxed and waned throughout. Departure was delayed temporarily. 

A carful of young men, dressed immaculately pulled up alongside us. Their black attire matching the polish of their convertible. They quizzed us in amazement about our venture. “To Oxford? At night? In the rain?” 

they asked, their car roof down as the drizzle began. We were just as confused as they were! Eager to get started we bade them farewell and the ride officially began. 

The night was warm and cloudy with a fine mizzle ebbing and flowing as the night wore on, necessitating intermittent pauses to add or remove layers. Leaving the view of the London lights  behind we headed towards Highgate. Having barely traversed a mile, our Captain James pulled over to attend to a mechanical. The group waited in clusters further up the hill for his return, to lead us on to the historic city of Oxford. Whilst we waited Alfie encouraged the group to ‘buddy-up’ for safety and to avoid anyone being left alone in the dark. After a short interval, Andy relayed James’ requirement of domestique support for a problem with his nuts. We were to press on and he would catch us up. Accidentally leaving Alfie behind, alone in the dark and ‘buddy-less’ (sorry Alfie!), a group of 16 continued towards Marble Arch for the traditional group photo. It was then we realised our leader would not be rejoining us. His mechanical proved terminal and he would sadly miss out on the rest of the ride. 

Disappointed that his buddy system had not been adopted, a disgruntled Alfie caught up with the group. We made our way through Central London, our number now 17. Late night merrymakers gave voice to our progress with words of encouragement, bewilderment and insults as we traversed through the city. 

  “it’s the tour de Knightsbridge!” 

“there’s hundreds of them!”  

“bloody cyclists” 

We passed carefully over a heavily contra flowed Hammersmith bridge and across the Thames. 

The next part of the journey passed without incident, other than a few items falling off bikes.  James D and Andy took up the mantle of caretaker ride leaders between them. Out of London we alighted at the first cafe stop, an accommodating 24 hour garage in Shepperton. Bemused at the 3am appearance of 17 cyclists and assuming we were on a charity ride. Our response? “No, this is just for fun!” 

Refuelled and refreshed after coffees and sustenance (and a tea-accino served with frothy milk), we soldiered on towards our destination. 

Soon after, a man-and-van warned us against traversing a closed road due to road works. 

“Even for cyclists!” 

he protested as we proceeded to ignore him; only to discover minutes later that he was right. A series of fences blocked our path. Calvin and a small but determined crew skirted the first fence with ease and attempted to get over, or under, the next fence with a pick axe and grappling hooks, possibly found in Steve Westcough’s enormous saddle bag… Dejected, and admitting defeat, we turned back. 

As daylight broke some expert navigating ensured we were soon back on course, but behind schedule due to the unforeseen delays. A breakaway group of seven formed to assist Alex in catching a pre-booked train from Moreton-in-Marsh. This left behind ten who pressed on at a fair pace towards Windsor, passing by the famous Castle after a steady incline and a brief wrong turning. 

We picked up Steve Westcough en route, who had been dropped, taking our number to 11. Aptly, with July’s Buck Moon just around the corner, we soon encountered a startled deer, spooked by the traffic, bounding along the road. For one hairy moment, an accident seemed possible. Our thoughts turned back to the fabled Ian vs. Deer?…Elk??…Moose???… incident of SCC night ride legend. 

Continuing on James’ route, we followed and criss-crossed the Isis. The groups reconvened at garage #2 for a welcome break. Henley-on-Thames was fully kitted out for its regatta (including the odd boater hat and striped blazer returning home in the early hours). Here, our group fragmented further; Alex pressing on towards the booked train; Sean heading back to London to tend to a sick pet; and the SAS (Steve, Alfie, Steve) aiming for the Oxford park run (trainers the actual contents of Steve W’s saddle bag!). A disappointed Alfie, not quite making it to Oxford due to a cracked wheel rim, passed the remaining group on his return to Henley-on-Thames to complete his duathlon separately. 

The remaining 12 resumed their voyage, heading into the picturesque Chilterns. With breakfast on our minds, Mike warned us not to over-fuel and ruin the long awaited feast. The lack of sleep beginning to take its toll, we made our way to the long, seemingly never ending climb up to Pishill, followed by the welcome, but slightly scary (due to sleep deprived brains), descent into Wattlington. 

Encountering friendly, fresh faced cyclists heading the opposite direction, we arrived in the City of Dreaming Spires. Laurence took the lead in guiding our weary frames to the Spire cafe in the market for the well deserved and expertly executed Full English fare. Surrounded by market stall workers setting up for the day, we rested, like battle worn troops, recounting our memories of the nights’ adventures. After a quick group photo by an obliging waiter (Ofer appearing to have swapped his bike for a wheelchair), Mick parted for a lift from his wife. The remaining 11 headed to the railway station (Duncan shamelessly profiteering from the resale of the group tickets). We dozed in a daze on our way back to The Big Smoke for the final leg of the journey. 

Arriving in Marylebone to heaving crowds preparing for the Pride celebrations we split again. A small number heading towards Liverpool Street Station for the next train home. A small group followed Calvin begrudgingly towards Swains Lane for the short but punishing climb. A first for some of our number, making it to the top after cycling 90 miles and on no sleep, chapeau! As we passed through Muswell Hill and towards Bounds Green and beyond, one by one we dropped off to our final destinations, before dropping off to sleep in our long awaited beds. 

Another eventful annual Southgate Cycling Club night ride had come to a close. This tale cannot be ended without a big thank you to our absent leader James. It would not have happened without his scrupulous organisation and top-rate route planning. Hats off to you James.