10 April: Day Five

Brighton to London - Home at last!

Finally, a lie in for the boys. Neil only ordered us down to breakfast for 8am. Giles still had time for a pre-breakfast trip to Roberto but his plea on the blackberries at 7am for Roberto's room number filled us somewhat with fear for the state of his knee.

The celebratory back-slapping mood of the night before on our arrival in Brighton which continued on to the breakfast table quickly slipped away as Rhys re-told his stories of the infamous Ditchling Beacon that would hit us around the one hour mark. The confused emotions of being so near to home but with so far to go hit us all very hard as we got our sore bottoms on to our still unforgiving saddles.

For Seb, it was yet another record broken. This time it only took 100 yards before he fell off his bike. Having mastered the "right foot off first" technique in France (the pavement is on the right hand side in France), he confidently unclipped right foot first and didn't have a pavement. All those minutes of training were paying off again.

Will and Angus then set about leading the pack up the long hill out of Brighton. After just 25 minutes, disaster struck as it turned out we had gone up the wrong hill. It was back down again and up another hill. Tempers were very much at breaking point and Will was heard saying that he would knock the block off whoever complained next about his map-reading capabilities.

Finally, we got out of Brighton and just as we stopped on the bridge over a double carriageway, Seb, still suffering from a sense of humour failure, fell for the sixth time on the trip. His anger was apparent as he picked up his bike and got ready to throw it over the bridge. Conrad desperately shouted out "DON'T!" and order was swiftly restored.

We then made the long, ardous journey up to said Beacon. To be honest, the pain of this gentle yet persistent climb was offset by the fantastic scenery. The views from the Beacon were magnificent. Roberto got to work with his magic hands and spray and fixed the aches and pains for the next push.  

Our next stop was in the delightful town of Lindfield and the rather marvellous Eve's Tea Room. The hospitality was wonderful, the tea very English and the scones, rarebit and crumpets magical. Even Conrad managed to transform his Essex twang into that of a country gent to suit the surroundings. The locals were very interested in our Challenge and even sponsored us. The manager of the Tea Room was probably one of the nicest people we had met on our journey. You can see how we managed to stay here for over an hour! The sudden realisation from Neil that we had wasted time in a Tea Room and eaten into our pre-allocated lunch spot quickly wiped the smiles off our faces. Rhys had once again lost his sense of humour and as we cycled off facing the prospect of no lunch, he was heard muttering under his breath.

A few more hills kept us on our toes but they were, as ever, no problem to Rob who, despite stiff competition from Angus and John D, clearly won the title of King of the Mountains. He dominated every hill and his request that he be allowed to "stretch his legs" was followed by an unstinting sprint up a severe hill... an awesome display.

We made good, determined progress though and save for Giles having to stop with his knee a couple of times, Neil allowed us to have a quick lunch in quaint area on the outskirts of South London. This particular area of the world, which will remain nameless, truly sullied the good name of "chav".

It was here that we had to say our last farewells to Roberto and the relief we all felt as he hugged us without hurting us was overwhelming. The moment when he lifted his boy Rhys up for a photo was tear-jerking and will stay with us all forever. He was fantastic on this journey and, without him, we would never have made it home.

And so, the final 10 miles into central London. Leon got up to his usual tricks, extending left arms, left middle fingers, slapping car windows and the like. Angus had the pain of cycling past his house in South London and in to Central London. Neil had the pain of driving a van in London. Will continued to lead excellently and the rest of us just followed on like tired zombies. When we hit Southwark station, the emotions were immense and the joy just overflowed as we arrived at Blackfriars Bridge. Home at last. High fiving, or high cinqing as it is now known, all around. A great end to a great journey.

Now just the tiny matter of a marathon on Sunday... Rob still fancies running a PB and Angus was talking about going sub 3.30. What on earth has happened to us in these past few days?! Please check back for photos from today and video footage from the Challenge thus far (hopefully on tomorrow) and, of course, our final diary entry on Sunday.