A good day out, and a very well organised event...

Six of 100 starters were on recumbents: two ICE Micros, an ICE Classic, John Ward giving his Windcheetah its first proper excursion, Rob Webb on his Orbit Crystal 2-wheeler, someone on (I think) a Challenge Hurricane.

The forecast promised sun, but fog and frost lingered until Hungerford. Since the weather has been so dry lately, the roads were largely ice-free, but water in the fields and ponds was frozen. As were my extremities...

I was keen to get back in daylight, if at all possible, so worked my way towards the front (well, front-ish) of the field. About 20km in, after Newbury, I p*nct*red, which allowed the entire field to zip by. Drat! It was the classic Berkshire culprit, a pyramidal shard of flint straight through the tread, even though the Micro was shod for durability (Schwalbe Marathons) rather than speed (Bromptons). Weirdly, the flat happened on good, clear roads.

After fixing the puncture I managed to catch a couple of the halt, the lame, or the simply unhurried before the first control. There was a 'Road Closed' sign on Hungerford Common. Pah, I thought. No, it was genuinely impassable to bike or trike. The detour added two or three km and a couple of minor climbs.

Service at the café in Hungerford was remarkably quick. I limited myself to cake, tea, and milk, and a brief (standard disclaimers apply!) chat with Chris Avery and John Curtin, then set off in pursuit of just about everyone.

The sun was shining, and some of my extremities at least were beginning to thaw out. The route tracked the Kennett and Avon Canal and the railway through Great Bedwyn (with its bizarre Post Office decorated with odds and ends of monumental sculpture) then climbed gently past the Crofton beam engines on rather well-surfaced lanes.

I began to catch grouplets on the way to Pewsey, but it was really on the road towards Urchfont that I began to progress through the field. The rolling terrain and smooth surfaces were extremely trike-friendly. After Market Lavington the road rolled a lot more and the surface was much worse, but it was still extremely enjoyable riding.

Andy Uttley, the organiser, had inveigled the tea-rooms at Bratton into closing to the public for the day. Again, service was swift. I chatted with long-lost friend Robert Watson, hoovered down some macaroni cheese, and headed back out into the sunshine.

It was a bit warmer, but not that much warmer. I swapped my fluorescent woolly hat for a thinner headsock (to keep the sweat out of my eyes, in the unlikely event that the temperature rose high enough for me to begin to sweat) and set off on the return. Slowly, with a stomach full of pasta.

Briefly, between Bratton and Market Lavington, drivers were confronted with the sight of four recumbent trikes in convoy. Gradually I became aware, largely from the way that the upright riders I was passing were toiling, that there was a headwind. There's almost always going to be a headwind at some point on an east-west route in the UK, I suppose. Even on the trike this leg was something of a slog.

After Pewsey I stopped at a garage to get some energy drink. A couple of groups passed: Something to chase. I chased; I caught. The ICE Classic and my Micro outpaced the uprights on the climb away from the canal, though this was a 'two-wheel' road, with potholes, grot down the middle, and tree-root heaves in the tarmac.

Hungerford to Grazeley, the last leg, is rather hilly, and features a few km of extremely, ahem, rural roads. At one point I was canted about 20 degrees to the left, with my left front wheel and my back wheel in the pothole-filled strip of alleged tarmac while my right front wheel jounced on top of a thick layer of mud and rocks along the middle of the... No, I can't bring myself to use the word 'road.'

I crossed the Boxford 'Alps,' the roller-coaster of steepish climbs and dips on the Winterbourne road, a real hoot on the trike. Just after Hermitage, daylight had faded to the point where I needed lighting. A group of riders was stopped by the info control in Yattendon, but I scooted on.

The last difficulty of the ride, the climb out of Bradfield, had me visiting bottom gear, again. (I hadn't so much as changed out of the big ring in the first 150km. Mind you, my bottom gear on that is about 34 in). After sunset the temperature had plunged. Even the climb was chilly. The descent was hypothermia on wheels, with manic cackling on the side...

There was a warm welcome and plenty of food at the finish at Grazeley village hall.

This is an excellent early-season event, and generally well suited to tandems and recumbents. On the Micro this year I took half an hour longer than I did on an upright last year (one puncture on the Micro; none on the upright; more wind last year).

'Hey, mister, cool bike!' count: Six (counting choruses as one).

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