SQUAREWHEELS.org.uk
56.8 miles per hour – on my bike!

This page was created on 20 February 2002, and is correct to 4 October 2005.

Ever since I had a speedometer on my bike, I'd been doing everything I could think of to make it show ever-larger numbers. This is my account, as told to the uk.rec.cycling Usenet newsgroup, of how I attained my very own land speed record (on 1998 September 15 at 17:20ish) which still holds to this day.

Subject: Re: speed cycling
Newsgroups: uk.rec.cycling
Date: 1999/02/18

Helen Deborah Vecht <helenvecht[at]zetnet[dot]co[dot]uk> writes:

> 42mph

I spent more than a year of my life failling to find a suitable hill on
which to beat the Big Forty, but now it's absolutely neither here nor
there; every time I go to Sainsbury's via St. Stephens Hill (within a
stone's throw of where I'm sitting now, in the Computing Dept at
Canterbury) I break 40.  I did so today at lunchtime, speedo's still in
me pocket....  42.4 mph!

As already mentioned here (late last year) my Land Speed Record is 56.8
mph (91.4 kph), down an extremely sudden not-very-straight plummet of
B-road in Dorset, from the viewpoint (views of Chesil Beach and Portland
Bill) eastwards into Abbotsbury (near Weymouth).  The crazy thing is that
you're riding along what seems like an undulating road, but after
reaching a gentle crest it tips way, way down to the right at around 1 in
6, then at the bottom it turns left again and you're tooling along a flat
road into a quiet village: it's all so sudden and severe!

I discovered this hill on a previous visit when I did 49 mph with front
& rear panniers, without trying to go particularly fast.  When the
opportunity arose, I returned to Dorset: my journey was taking me
westwards (i.e. UP the hill) but no matter.  I rode half way up,
struggling with the weight of my luggage, then turned off into the
entrance to a farm lane and removed panniers, barbag, waterbottle, flappy
clothing (if I'd been more thorough I should really have taken off the
rack and mudguards as well, but I also had to get to Lyme Regis on a
tight schedule!).  With the above items cached in a bush, I
(comparatively) merrily honked the rest of the way up; looked down onto
the sea and along the cliffs, psyched myself up, checked front wheel
quick-release and similar things for confidence, straightened glasses,
and then ... BLAM!

Wait for a _very_ long gap in the cars heading down, then push off with
one pedal-stroke, change up to top, quick nervous brake-test; going along
what looks like a flat piece of clifftop, but the road turns right and
disappears away, every time you get to the horizon it's dropped away
further until you think you're going down a cliff!  View ahead is of
road, high banks on either side of road, sun shining on the sea above
that.  Rapidly accelerating, now hurtling down already at about 45,
passing an oncoming tailback of cars crawling up behind a smoke-belching
coach, full of grannies; pass the last car, brake for the blind left
curve, through OK, pedal manically for a second then crouch down..
glance at the computer which shows 50 ("still more to come, gonna break
the record"), crouch down harder, wind-noise is deafening, nothing coming
the other way, use all of the road for the easy right, judging distance
to next corner, ("never braked from this speed before, use more distance
than seems necessary"), leave it a bit longer, a bit longer, a
bi..... Brake! brake!  Front tyre pulling forwards on road, a sort of
ripping noise, slow it down, four cats-eyes, three, two, getting there,
one cats-eye, the oncoming car thinks I'm about to go straight on, out of
control; down to 20mph and lean gracefully into the 90-degree left;
safely round and off the hill, heading into the village.

I laughed incredulously, almost manically as the adrenaline surge
receded, and a huge grin was plastered across my face; performed a zippy
U-turn ("easy without all that luggage") and pushed the computer-button:
AVS.., MAX 56.8 m/h .. really, Really!!  ("Wow, it took ages to reach 40,
went up in teeny steps from there, and now I break 50 and 55 all in one
go!").  Blasting up the hill once again, past where I'd so recently been
braking hugely, I was carried up by the left-over adrenaline back to my
luggage.  With hands still shaking, I attached all the bits and needed
plenty of time to winch the second half, up to the lookout once again.  I
reached the top, where the forward view changes from sky to hilltop to
road, then a wiry Veteran came into view; he saw the grin still plastered
on my face, I nodded knowingly at him as he smiled back and tucked down
into a full crouch.  A fellow adrenaline-junkie!

Still laughing, but also panting, I parked up at the view-point for the
second time that day, and successfully took a photograph without
everything blowing away in the strong wind (strangely, I don't recall any
wind on the hill itself, only at the top which is quite exposed).  The
rest of the ride was quite punishing but very rewarding in the
summer-evening sunshine, leading up and down through Bridport, Chideock,
Morecombelake, over the nasty steep bit, and down into (the sea!) Lyme
Regis.

--
Richard.