Suddenly, as I went downhill and followed the road round to the left I realised that if I turned right I would be on the beach and at my journeys end. I dived right at the last moment, narrowly avoiding both those riders who had followed me and those who’d taken the correct route in the first place.

Was I disappointed at the number of bikes already there? No not really. This wasn’t a race. If anything it just added to the atmosphere of what we’d achieved. Everywhere I looked I saw bikes parked. I saw bikes being loaded into cars. I thought of those riders who’d already ridden off again, for London or for a train station? Amongst the bikes I saw sleeping riders. Some taking up a whole table, others being more hygienic and using the grass.

I parked my bike amongst others and decided that the café, breakfast and a huge coffee were my first priority. As I slowly progressed through the queue I saw that the inside tables were taken up with just as many dozing heads as the outside tables. Finally at the front of the queue I ordered my fried breakfast, collected my coffee and headed back for a table. Now I don’t like to complain, but please Dunwich café, when I arrive next year remember that I’ve cycled over 100 miles and when I order a fried breakfast I expect a full fried breakfast, not a small slice of bacon, tiny sausage, piece of fried bread. To put it bluntly if I can see the plate you haven’t cooked enough. If after I’ve eaten a lot I still can’t see the plate you’ve cooked sufficient.

I was surprised to find after I’d eaten that I still wasn’t tired. I thought about sleeping or napping but it just didn’t take my fancy. Instead I joined some others and we went for a swim.

We started by talking about it, and it seemed a good idea despite the cyclists sleeping on the beach. Then we went and changed in the public toilets (although not all of us changed, did we Chuffy?) Then we collected our towels, or flannels in Bagonabike’s case, and headed for the beach. To start with, although I’d changed, I still wasn’t convinced about this swimming business. I’ve always disliked getting salty or sandy when I can’t get fresh soon afterwards. I took on role of official C+ forum photographer instead.

Finally though, having captured the moment on film, having seen how cold it was, I decided I had to join them. In a moment I had stripped down to my swimming gear (cunningly hidden before under a pair of cycling leggings and top) and was sprinting down the beach.

I had seen how cold it was. I had seen how the three swimmers disliked the spray the others were kicking up. I had seen how they were all standing thigh deep in the same area. I reached the shore at a sprint. I jumped. I clutched my knees. I disappeared under the surface in a tidal wave of mayhem and as I surfaced I could only laugh at the fury of my three companions. Then we swam for quite a while, afterwards I couldn’t believe how refreshing the cold salt water had been on my tired limbs. I truly felt like cycling back to London!

I won’t comment negatively on the wait for the coach home. I could, but that would be unfair for two reasons. Firstly Barry provided a superb resource home considering he had twice as many riders as on previous years; secondly why should I moan at the delay caused by my riding faster than others? Riders were still arriving at Dunwich hours after I did. I will say in hindsight that I’ll be using another method home, even riding it, next year. I suppose that that feeling is increased by the knowledge that I spent a few hours waiting for the coach home, and then mid journey I saw the sign that I knew I’d see – home is 15 miles away.

An hour and a half after that sign we finally arrived in London. Ten minutes later I had my bike back and was cycling to the station. Ten pounds later (twice the fare to get into London!) I was standing and holding the bike the whole way home.

But by now the excitement of my achievement was kicking in and over-riding this frustration. On the whole hour’s journey I was desperate for somebody to look at the luggage attached to the bike and to ask “Come far?” At work the next day this excitement hadn’t worn off, I was waiting for each and every person to ask if I’d done much over the weekend.

As for you, dear reader, will I be seeing you next year as we start the Dunwich Dynamo 2005?