Rob at the LEL start at Writtle, Essex, near London

It’s a new year tradition: blogging about my cycling plans for the year ahead. But as I currently have no great adventures planned for 2026, this year I’ll be reflecting on 2025, the year I took part in three of Britain’s greatest audax (long distance cycling) rides. They included the most dramatic edition yet of London Edinburgh London (LEL), a 1,500km, five day ride between the English and Scottish capitals.

At the start of January, I booked my place to ride LEL, thanks to my guaranteed entry as a member of Audax UK. It was an exciting moment – the stress of what I’d signed up for would come later! I’d planned a series of challenges to prepare for LEL, including riding London Wales London (a 400km audax) for the second time, taking on the Bryan Chapman Memorial 600km ride – arguably Britain’s toughest 600 – as well as cycling the length of France from the English Channel to the Mediterranean with Peak Tours. Not to mention countless local rides. This, I hoped, would be suitable training and conditioning. I shared my experiences and tips in a series of blogposts in the months leading up to LEL, starting here.

Rather than repeating my detailed accounts of all these big events again, I’ve decided to record the highs and lows of my cycling year, followed by what I’ve learned – about endurance cycling, and about me.

Highs

Riding my favourite event again: London Wales London

Welcome to England: crossing Severn Bridge on LWL

London Wales London is a wonderful event. Run by Liam FitzPatrick, it’s a 407km ride from Chalfont St Peter in Bucks (within earshot of London’s M25 orbital motorway) through the Chilterns and Cotswolds to Tewkesbury. It then heads south to kiss Wales briefly but affectionately at Chepstow, before crossing the original Severn Bridge to head back through the bible black night to the arrivée via Malmesbury and Henley-on-Thames. It’s a gorgeous route and one to relish, especially when the weather is kind, as it was for me in 2024 (my very first audax) and in 2025.

I felt better than I looked: 2024 All smiles: 2025

I completed LWL an hour faster than in 2024, and was amazed how much better I looked at the finish this time – as the photos above show! My favourite moments were crossing the Severn Bridge on a lovely late spring evening, and climbing to the Somerset Monument at Hawkesbury Upton, Glos, in the light. I don’t know for sure why I love LWL – is it the route, the organisation (kudos to Liam) or am I just suited to 400km rides that happen to start just a few miles from home? After the mighty effort of cycling 254 miles, getting a six minute lift home after finishing is very attractive!

One magical moment from LWL. All too soon after the Lambourn control I saw the sign to turn right to tackle Buckham Hill. It’s a beast when you face it over 200 miles into a ride in the middle of the night. Yet as I paused to curse the ascent, I looked up in awe at the night sky. I was treated to the sight of a crescent moon, and a sky full of stars. How could I complain about a hill when I could relish such natural wonders?

Bryan Chapman: a sunset and a 30 year dream fulfilled

Dylife gorge Sunset over Lŷn Conquering Gospel Pass

I didn’t finish the Bryan Chapman Memorial audax. Navigational and feeding failures did for me – although it’s far from sure that I’d have completed this famously hilly 600km ride even without these pratfalls. I’ve written about the lessons I learned here. You may find some of these useful if you’re planning to ride the BCM in 2026.

But I did have some magical moments, some of which feature above. The scenery of Mid Wales was stunning, including the gorge at Dylife on the Machynlleth mountain road. I loved watching the sun set over the Llŷn peninsula and Irish Sea as I cut short my ride to head to Aberdyfi. And conquering the Gospel Pass from Hay-on-Wye fulfilled an ambition hatched almost 30 years ago. It was tough, especially having cycled 250 hilly miles over two days, but the joy of savouring the view from the summit, and the delicious descent, was unalloyed.

Climbing Mont Ventoux

Nearly there! Tom Simpson memorial, Ventoux

This was my greatest cycling climb. A chance to follow in the wheels of Tour de France greats, and to pay homage to Tom Simpson, the British rider who tragically died near the summit during the 1967 Tour. It was as tough as I expected: a 21 kilometre, 1,700 metre climb. The photo on the left above gives an idea of the incline – and there was a steeper section of 10 percent for over four kilometres. (A few weeks later, I cycled up a fiendishly steep ramp on holiday in Cornwall and marvelled that I’d managed four kilometres at the same steepness climbing Ventoux.)

The views from the summit were stunning, and I relished a late lunch at the famous Chalet Reynard, followed by the long descent towards Sault. I’ll never be a mountain climber, but I was proud to have got to the top of Ventoux on two wheels.

My other highlight of Channel to the Med was the joy of discovering la France profonde: the essence of this extraordinary nation. Cycle touring is the perfect way to see a country: you see things from a saddle that you never spot in a car, especially on a motorway. Above are just two glimpses from my Channel to the Med odyssey: the gorgeous, ancient riverside town of Argenton-sur-Creuse, and the spectacular Gorges du Verdon. I had no idea before the trip how many breathtaking gorges France had. Thank you, Peak Tours! I can’t wait to return to this beguiling country.

London Edinburgh London: a joyous community of nations

Riders at Malton Andy Cox announces ride south

As I blogged soon after the event, London Edinburgh London was hit by Storm Floris, which forced LEL director Danial Webb and his team to curtail the event. On the second morning, riders were instructed to pause to shelter from the storm. That evening, we were told to head south the next morning. I reached Malton in North Yorkshire, and will never forget the kindness and support of the Malton volunteers, led by controllers Siobhan and Andy Cox. I was relieved as I was already starting to doubt my ability to complete the 1,500km course, although I’d have given it my very best shot.

Becoming tourists on ride south Riders at Hessle

My favourite day on LEL was day three, on the way south, from Malton to Boston. It was still very windy, but dry and sunny, and most riders seemed liberated by no longer being slaves to time. In the picturesque dry valleys of the Yorkshire Wolds, we stopped to take photos, while some took part in highly competitive game of table football outside Hessle control. Liam FitzPatrick, who was leading LEL comms and social media, had talked about making this day the most memorable day in LEL history. I will certainly never forget it. I shared various photos and videos with the LEL comms and social team, including the two above, which captured the essence of the experience.

Tîm Cymru/Team Wales: the father and daughter team, south of Cambridge

It was a joy to be part of London Edinburgh London’s international community, and I wished I’d made more of an effort to talk to other riders. My excuse: I was devoting all my physical and mental energy into powering my bike, often against the wind. I did cherish the conversations I had, including one in Welsh with a father and daughter while relaxing on the lawn in the sunshine at Northstowe on the last day. Later, I cycled with them for a few miles south of Cambridge.

The 2026 cycling lowlights

Off course on Bryan Chapman Memorial

This is the junction where my Bryan Chapman ride went horribly wrong, as mentioned earlier. My Garmin told me to leave the Machynlleth to Dolgellau road and take the road on the right towards Llanwrin. It was a beautiful scenic route along the Dyfi valley, and it was miles before I had the sickening realisation that I was following the second day’s route. I had no choice but to tackle the horrible climb to Bwlch Oerddrws pass on the A470 from Dinas Mawddwy. Even Google Maps mocked me, claiming the route had only moderate hills. I wish…

On the descent, I glanced mournfully as I passed the junction with the road from Machynlleth that I should have taken. I knew now that I had no chance of completing the Bryan Chapman, and headed for the overnight stop at Aberdyfi. But I confess that I felt liberated by my decision, and enjoyed the ride to Aberdyfi.

The stressful lead up to LEL

They weren’t all mine…

My lowest moments on my LEL adventure came in the days before the start.

I’d never known anything like it. Three days before setting off, I was overwhelmed by stress. I had so much to do, yet felt paralysed by this unfamiliar panic.

In the preceding weeks, I’d been piling kit I might need onto the spare bed. Then onto the floor of the spare bedroom. It was the sight of that mountain of gear that did it. My sensible aim – to put aside anything that I might need – had turned into a torment. I’d need a van to carry that lot, never mind a bike.

Looking back, my panic wasn’t just about kit. For months, I’d been excited about the prospect of taking part in one of the world’s greatest cycling events. I’d devoured accounts of past LEL veterans. (Heavens, I’d even reread a dozen times a *Yet Another Cycling Forum *discussion amongst 2022 riders as they trained for the big day…) I’d blogged calmly about my training and preparations. Now, as I scanned the spare room, the reality of what I’d let myself in for hit me. Memories of my Bryan Chapman fiasco overtook my earlier sensible understanding and acceptance of why I’d failed, and why it need have no bearing on my chances of completing LEL.

I felt so much better when I’d made my final kit decisions, and packed to travel to the start. I had one final wobble at Writtle on LEL eve, but once I’d handed over my drop bags I was able to savour the carnival atmosphere. Stress had given way to healthy excitement.

The purgatory of the Fens

The Fenland slog

The Fens of eastern England are flat. Very flat. To the uninitiated, that sounds like perfect cycling terrain. In reality, it’s like cycling up a 100km hill – because of the wind. There’s literally no shelter from that torment.

We should have enjoyed a tailwind on the way north, thanks to Britain’s typical south westerly prevailing wind, but by a cruel fate we got a headwind for much of the way. The section from Northstowe in Cambridgeshire to Boston in Lincolnshire was soul destroying against the wind, relieved only by a wonderfully welcome unexpected water and fruit stop at Whittlesey near Peterborough (thank you, Diva and friends), and a snack stop in Crowland, next to that village’s historic Trinity bridge.

Any hope that we’d be rewarded by a tailwind on the way south was dashed: we had the usual headwind that so many LEL riders have cursed on the return journey over the years!

What did I learn from my 2026 cycling adventures?

My days as an endurance cyclist are (all but) over

I’ll never forget my short career as an endurance cyclist. London Edinburgh London was an extraordinary adventure, while cycling over the Gospel Pass on my 290 mile Bryan Chapman was almost a spiritual experience. I found I could cycle further, for longer, than I ever imagined possible 10 years ago.

But I’ve learned that I’m better suited temperamentally and physically to cycle touring, my original style of riding. (Read my blogpost about my first real cycle tour, around England’s West Country in 1995, here.) I love taking photos and videos along the way, and slow riding makes that much easier.

This struck me not just on the Bryan Chapman and LEL. Much as I loved riding the length of France, from the Channel to the Med, this June, the distances, the climbing and the heat made it more of a challenge than I’d have liked. It would have been lovely to have had longer to explore places en route, and the overnight towns.

Evening twilight on London Wales London 2025

I’m not completely forsaking audax. I hope to ride London Wales London again in the future, as that 400km ride really suits me. In the meantime, I’ve promised Liam FitzPatrick that I’ll volunteer on the 2026 edition of LWL, and plan to do the same for LEL 2029. It’s time to give something back.

Beware burnout

Cycling in Cornwall – classic Cornish placenames

June 2025 was one of my biggest ever cycling months: 1,168 miles (almost 1,900km). Cycling the Bryan Chapman and the length of France seemed perfect preparation for LEL a month later.

Yet as July began, I found I’d lost my appetite for cycling. True, I completed four hilly rides on holiday at Mawgan Porth, Cornwall. But my monthly mileage for July barely topped 100 miles. I’m still not sure whether my massive June, followed by a lazy July, helped or hindered me on LEL. Judging by my hill climbing on the way south it may have helped. But I would lose my cycling appetite again after LEL…

Cycling sabbatical

After finishing LEL, I took a break from cycling for the rest of the year, with just a few rides. The massive effort – physical and mental – of training for and riding LEL left me with little motivation to ride my familiar local rides. I had a similar feeling after completing Land’s End to John O’Groats in 2019, which makes me wonder whether I’m better suited to less demanding events. Switching from audax to more traditional touring may help. Much as I love the idea of cycling over the Alps from Munich to Rome (another Peak Tours classic tour), trips with less climbing and distance may be the answer.

In the meantime, I do have one ride in mind for 2026. I’ve long wanted to cycle the Ridgeway, one of the oldest roads in England. I cycled short sections around Avebury when I was living in Wiltshire in the 1990s, and was delighted to ride a very short (road) section late at night on London Wales London. As I blogged after my first LWL, ‘In the solitude I tried to imagine a drover making his way along this path 5,000 years ago, but the massed lights of Swindon in the distance brought me abruptly back to 2024’.

This will be a bikepacking trip with my trusty gravel bike. I’ll need dry weather – those chalk hills get treacherous in the wet!

Writing my book about London Edinburgh London

My dream of taking part in London Edinburgh London was inspired in part by two books published by previous LEL riders. Andy Allsopp’s Barring Mechanicals recounted his struggles getting around on a recumbent bike with mechanical issues in 2009, while Malcolm Dancy told the story of his LEL experience in A Virgin Discovers Long Distance Cycling: London-Edinburgh-London 2013.

The curtailment of the event seemed to kill my idea of adding to the LEL bookshelf with a book about my 2025 LEL ride. Who would want to buy a book about London Malton London? But then I realised that the drama of Storm Floris, which turned the event into London Floris London, and the heroic efforts of organisers, volunteers and riders might make this the perfect edition to capture in a book.

I’ve already spoken to Siobhan and Andy Cox, whose leadership made my experience at Malton so fantastic, as well as Liam FitzPatrick and LEL director Danial Webb. Several people who shared their experiences online have kindly agreed that I can include their stories. I’ve written about half the book, and hope to complete it in January for a spring publication. I’ll blog an update nearer the time.

Thank you

My cycling in 2025 depended hugely on the kindness of others, especially the organisers and volunteers of the events I rode: London Wales London, the Tour de Ricky, the Bryan Chapman Memorial and London Edinburgh London. I’d like to say a heartfelt thank you. I’m looking forward to giving something back in 2026.