*Ride report below (scroll down)*

As an ex-military man (and a cyclist), this is a cause dear to my heart. The early years of the 21st century have been characterised by a sustained period of overseas operations for the British Armed Forces. Whatever you may think of the advisability of our involvement in such conflicts, the fact remains that the politicians whom you elected have committed us to them. In time-honoured fashion, the good old British Tommy has gone off to do his (and increasingly her) duty. Many hundreds have not come back but many more others, owing to advancements in modern medicine, have survived life-changing injuries that will require much support in years to come.

You will all be aware of the efforts of Help for Heroes in turning round the once-woeful quality of care and creating the facilities to help rehabilitate the injured in an effective way, and with dignity. As Iraq and Afghanistan become yesterday's wars and the attentions of our politicians and media turn to other opportunities to strut the world stage, it is as important as ever that the funding stream is maintained in order to look after those people who fulfilled their side of the bargain.

This challenge was a ride from Plymouth to London over 48 hrs or so (read about it below).

I know that many of you have sponsored me on other such jaunts in the past and I remain very grateful. If you could find it in yourself to throw a few more quid into the pot, I would be even more so. Thank you in advance.

Ride Report

One aim of the Hero Ride was to have groups of people riding in from the four H4H Recovery Centres around the country. It had come to the attention of Richard, our diligent SW Area Coordinator, that no one had planned to start at the new centre at Plymouth: that needed to be changed. Richard is a super-keen cyclist who refuses to be called a MAMIL because he's been doing it from about the age of three. Unfortunately as a former Green Jacket he's not got many mates, so it was just two of us that found ourselves at 0900 on Fri 31st May outside Parker VC, HMS Drake, Devonport. This is a new adaptive accommodation block with 60 individual rooms ('cabins') plus 6 family rooms. It was built by H4H and currently houses 45 personnel who are going through rehabilitation and retraining before, in most cases, making an unplanned early transition to civilian life under less than ideal circumstances. Before getting on our bikes we were given a quick tour. It is awesomely swept-up and was clearly designed intelligently and implemented with impressive speed given that the charity has only been around for a few years. However, such things don't come cheap, which is why this fundraising is so important. As an example: we were told the loo in each cabin costs £8,000 alone. It is nice to know that with your help I have so far funded part of a khazi.

We headed off out of Drake and through the middle of Plymouth. It is a city very much in tune with the Armed Forces, and this was shown by the supportive beeps we received as we rode through. Then it was on through the South Hams as the temperature and gradients rose. Totnes, Newton Abbot, Teignmouth came and went, the climb out of the latter on a crappy surface in the midday sun helped us decide a café stop in Dawlish was permissible. After this, we swung N at Starcross and got the northerly wind right on the nose, where it would remain for the rest of the day. We found our way through Exeter via Richard's Secret Shortcut (which gave us an overview of most districts and it even looked as though we were merging onto the M5 at one point). Then it was a steady climb up to Cullompton with the wind still on the nose. We picked up from somewhere a young Royal Marine from 40 Cdo who sat on for a while before ticking about the slow pace and coming past; he obviously found the break harder than expected as he was back with our 2-man peloton 10 minutes later. After Cullompton it was 20 miles up steeper terrain to the top of the Blackdowns and I was relieved to see the Lupton house eventually come into view. Apparently this last stretch is part of Richard's Normal Training Ride and he had been very kindly taking it easy on my account! It had been a hardish first day: 86 miles on one of the hottest days of the year, mostly into the wind with much undulation and 800' of net ascent. My legs showed their displeasure through bouts of agonising cramp, and Emma was visibly shocked at the amount of supper I put away. I didn't have the heart to tell her I eat like that every night. Meanwhile Richard was busy on the computer, scratching his head and zooming into Google Maps to work out how we got through Exeter.

On Saturday morning the peloton swelled to three when Mark Beaumont joined. This is a man who, during his multi-day adventure races, snatches bouts of sleep with his feet clipped into the pedals to save time. Uphill gradients seem to have no reductive effect on his speed. The day started with a nice downhill, lasting all of about 30 seconds. Then it was back up to Buckland St Mary and I was soon sucking air through every orifice. It was like a diesel Passat trying to keep up with a pair of Audi TT's. We cracked on through some idyllic countryside, mostly following the line of the A303 - Ilminster, Yeovil, Wincanton etc. Decent café stop in Mere before the long pull up and over to the Deverills (nice folk, must get them round for supper) and on to Warminster. From there we took the undulating road across Salisbury Plain from Knook Camp to Shrewton on which every Infantry subaltern has made an attempt at the Land Speed Record. Thankfully as it was Saturday they were all in Fulham and the road was quite safe. We pushed quickly through Larkhill to show any watching Gunners how it's done, and eventually arrived in Tidworth on 77 miles. It was another hot day and we hadn't been hanging about. On arrival we were shown Tedworth House, which is the Tidworth Recovery Centre based in the former mess, which was Farrow-and-Balled to high heaven prior to its official opening earlier this year - another very impressive facility.

We spent the first part of the night in sleeping bags on the floor of the 'Tin Hut', the original H4H office. I must have dozed off around midnight and woke up for some reason at 0045, realising we needed to get up at 0100 anyway and so there was little point in trying to snatch an extra 15 minutes' doss. We made our way back to Tedworth House to start the Dawn Raid sportive up to London, and were riding at 0200. They say the south-east is terribly congested, but we had passed through Andover, Basingstoke and Aldershot before I had counted five cars on the road. Alright, it was chuffing early but it was quite therapeutic whirring along in the dark for the first few hours. My Garmin was blacked out so I had no idea what speed we were going, but it seemed purposeful. It was Baltic, too: we were pretty much in Dorking before the sun's rays had any warmth in them. They then sent us over Box 'Hill' - well, I suppose it is the highest pimple around these parts. I think I may even have switched to the small chainring briefly. Thereafter we passed through some pleasant commuter belt before a long pull into town via Croydon on deteriorating surfaces, in rapidly rising temperatures, with the usual urban annoyances such as incessant red lights and buses. Nice cheeky little pull up over Crystal Palace and down again to Blackheath. The 150' of steep ascent to the TA centre was most unexpected and a bit of a sting in the tail, but we were there on 99 miles for a bacon bap and a brew.

It transpired that we were among the first to arrive and had three hours to kill sitting in the sun while people rocked in from all corners. There were groups coming in from Paris, Edinburgh, Catterick, Colchester, you name it. By midday around 1500 had come in, including almost 200 wounded and a number on hand-bikes. A triple-amputee had come from Edinburgh on a hand-bike - 400 miles on one arm; if that's not inspirational I don't know what is. We were instructed to collect and wear coloured T-shirts for the medal display. Much to our disgust, we were sent into the light-blue (RAF) queue. Fortunately Richard used his good offices to blag us a set of red (Army) ones. At 1200 we formed up on the heath. 'This is going to be like herding frigging cats', remarked someone, and they weren't wrong. The bunch of 1500 wobbled off down the hill towards the centre, like the world's biggest slow-bicyle race. It was not fast enough to clip in until after Tower Bridge, but the people along the way seemed to enjoy it, going by the beeping and cheering. The loop went along the Embankment, Whitehall, past Buckingham Palace and up the Mall, finishing on Horse Guards Parade for final music and speeches. A quick blast to Paddington afterwards served as a warm-down before heading home.