On my Brompton G-Line Through Richmond Park After Dark

Picture a crisp, clear night in Richmond Park, the moon hanging high like a giant disco ball illuminating the path ahead and me, armed with my trusty Brompton G Line, ready to traverse the vast expanse ahead. What could possibly go wrong?

The last time I cycled through Richmond Park at night was either when trying to clock up some miles for the Rapha Festive 500 I did a few years back or when making the return from Box Hill. On this occasion, I had been visiting some friends towards the south of Richmond Park, and all I had to do was get across to Barnes, where there would be sanctuary and almost certainly a pot of tea waiting for me. I had the bright idea that I could just cycle through Richmond Park. It would be quiet, an adventure and surely the most efficient route.  I didn’t have my Wahoo to navigate, but I did have my phone and could use one of the map apps.

I little known fact, if you can find a pedestrian gate to Richmond Park it is usually open after dark - unless they are carrying out the deer culls - which means you can enter with your bicycle. Mine was in the form of a G-Line. As I set off, the chill in the air was enough to freeze the thoughts in my head. I pedalled along the deserted paths, feeling like one of my favourite explorers Sir Wilfred Thesiger in a vast, uncharted wilderness. The only sounds were the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional clatter of my teeth chattering in the cold.

With no one about, I felt like the king of the park. I could cycle wherever I pleased! Of course, I did nothing of the sort. I tried to follow the directions were screamed out by my phone, which seemed louder than it had ever been. I turned it down, not wanting to draw attention to my presence just in case some crazy types, youth, drug dealers or worse still, influencers were lurking in the park as well.

As I continued my moonlit adventure, I began to question my life choices. The cold seeped through my layers - lots of tweed and lambswool - and I could practically hear my fingers begging for mercy. “Never again,” I muttered, squinting into the darkness, trying to spot the elusive deer that Richmond Park is famous for. All I could see were shadows, and I started to wonder if they were actually just figments of my imagination or perhaps the ghosts of cyclists past, warning me to turn back.

At one point, I was pretty sure that a wild dog ran across the road ahead. What was it doing there? Was it wild? Was its owner after it? I half expected to hear “Fenton!” being screamed, but thankfully, nothing.

Eventually, I made it back to another entrance/exit, shivering and slightly regretting my decision to embrace the night and take a short cut (which believe me was not)! The Brompton and I had survived, but I vowed, never again. Richmond Park after dark? A splendid idea in theory, but in practice, I’d rather stick to my warm living room and a pot of tea and just cycle on the road!

Until next time, stay safe out there people and do not cycle in Richmond Park or any park after dark!