Rebel or fool? Andy spins the wheel at Stone Circle Gravel Festival

I have only been to one festival before, and I only stayed for the day. That was a music event in Kent over a decade ago. I’ve never fancied pitching up to an event where you get filthy and uncomfortable, get very little sleep, make bad financial choices, and end up losing things.

Now that the flush of youth is round the U-bend and the kids have grown up, the gnawing sense of FOMO has encouraged me to do a few things that passed me by when I had a mortgage, a 9-to-5 and a full head of hair. Inspiration to rebel came from an invite to do the Stone Circle Gravel Festival, based at Old Sarum Fort, just north of Salisbury.

The event itself was cancelled indefinitely back in 2024 with the demise of organisers Hotchillee, but thanks to the efforts of a small band of former employees, it roared back to life in 2025. It has gone from strength to strength, judging by the number of fellow graveleers who assembled at the English Heritage site that served as Festival HQ from Friday through to Sunday at the end of June. There is massive capacity for camping and day attendees.

As well as event staff, there were stalls from the cycling industry including Sigma Sports, Quoc Shoes, Cannondale, Wahoo, Velo Fotre and ABUS, the latter providing free secure bike storage for the entire weekend. The tireless and eclectic event MC was Matt Stephens, and – adding to the overall festival vibe – you could even get yourself a tattoo-based memory of your weekend. Other non-Stephens based entertainment came from a resident DJ and a live band, with lots of other events for all ages during the day for those who may’ve come with the riders.

There were four ride distances for participants, ranging from the 80km harmless-sounding Jester to a true endurance event from Friday through the night and most of Saturday: an eye-watering, saddle-sore-tastic, invite-only 340km epic called The Knight. The remaining two were the 220km Bastard (in honour of William the Conqueror, who summoned the powerful Lords to Old Sarum to pledge their allegiance to him in 1086), and the 130km Rebel.  

Being a coward, I’d signed up to do the 80km Jester, a Fool’s errand if ever there were. I did notice that the profile on the excellent GPX file looked like a Trump polygraph reading, but dismissed this as a scaling error.

After parking up in an enormously empty field and walking a good kilometre to the event village, I did the rounds of all the stalls, drank some excellent beer, met some lovely people,  ate some excellent pizza and cheered on a bunch of loons doing the fancy-dress hill climb before the score of riders who had signed up for the Knight Ride were marshalled together and waved off on the first wave of the weekend.

Toddling back to the campervan, I noticed in the gloom that the field was no longer empty, and there were all manner of hardy campers in pup tents in a neighbouring field as well. This was a sign of the popularity of the coming days: not everyone had the luxury of a day off to drive there. I was also to find out that there would be many more on-the-day entrants to swell numbers further.

The next morning, riders were sent off in batches of a dozen or so. We were immediately met with a tricky tranche of singletrack, barely wide enough for one, let alone multiple caffeined-up pedal fanatics,. Thankfully the general air of calm prevailed, and there were no clashes of wheels in the group I was in. The tone, however, had been set for the ride and the course was littered with technical, narrow and steep sections, both up and down. I spent a lot of my first hour with my eyes firmly ahead while attempting chess grandmaster levels of concentration, all the while fretting about punctures via the harsh, flinty stones that bestrew the gravel in this part of the UK.

Once into a cycle of climb-relief-descend-relief, I began to appreciate the surroundings a bit more and looked less and less at the distance milestones being chalked off. The route took us through the vastness of Salisbury Plain, a place where nothing is flat and everything is crunchy. Passing some alarming signage about ‘live ammunition’ and a solitary toilet block, presumably for the use of military personnel, you lose all concept of scale with the oversized gravel tracks and the illusion that the ‘gentle slopes’ are energy-sucking, dry quagmires. Even descents seem slower, as there is nothing to gauge your speed on.

The Plain behind and much more ahead, there was a brief walky section up to the edge of Stonehenge, which was bathed in glorious sunshine and surrounded by bemused tourists, wondering why there were dozens of dust-crusted loons blocking the footway. It was about here that I experienced what could’ve been a day-wrecking mystery mechanical, all the power having gone from my right shifter.

It was while I was considering my immediate future at the trail side that I discovered one of the most endearing elements of the Stone Circle community – so many people stopped and asked if I needed any help, even offering to cycle off to the nearest garage in search of the battery I thought I needed. I remembered, then, that I had a speed sensor on my front wheel, so I extracted the battery from it with the intention of swapping it for the one in my lever, only to find that when I pulled back the hood, the battery I thought was faulty fell out, along with the battery cover. I can only presume that the roughness of some of the downhills had shaken the cover loose.

Popping it back in with a twist, I was then able to soldier on, but was beginning to flounder in the heat that had risen from a polite 21C at 08:30 to a rowdy, leg-sapping 30C by the time I’d reached the halfway feed station.

The feeder was a riot of hot pizza, potatoes, tortilla wraps, Haribo, and gallons of full-fat Coca-Cola and really raised my energy and mood. I was still, however, uncertain about my chances of reaching the end if the back nine of this course was as hilly and challenging as the first 40km. I remembered then that the marshal at the start said that there was a bail-out point a few kilometres on from the feed station where it joined with the home straight of the 130km Rebel course. My mind made up, I reset the route on my Wahoo and prepared to hang my head in shame.

Once on the homeward-bound course, I felt more confident about getting back and found that there was a wonderfully straight and flat section that could be taken at a rapid pace – albeit, even with me at full throttle, I was passed numerous times by the young and the fit.

Some way along, I encountered a couple who were having problems with their electronic gears, and they explained that they had been waiting for someone with a similar gearing set-up to come by on the off-chance that they had a spare battery. As it happened (being weirdly paranoid about it), I revealed that I had two batteries, a charger AND a power bank which they were welcome to try. Sadly, none of this was any use to them as it was evident that it was the mech that was faulty, but they appreciated the attempted assistance. They later saw me back at the start, and I was relieved to see that they’d successfully ended their day.

The short-cut from Jester to Rebel only filleted a couple of kilometres, so I was happy that I’d at least done the distance and later, when I checked the course, I was amazed to see that the Rebel route had less climbing than the Jester – it probably would’ve suited me to do the longer distance as it was the constant up and down that I’d found mentally and physically demanding. After being cow-belled and cheered at the bunting bedecked finish line, I aimed for some fluids to help recovery and a thirst-quenching free beer in my commemorative Stone Circle mug.

As the afternoon unfolded, more and more riders filled the event HQ, with some heartening stories of kind acts and mishaps. One poor chap had crashed, leaving enough skin on the gravel to presumably generate a clone – he later won some official Stone Circle kit to cover his red-raw shoulder and buttocks. We also learned that one of the Knights was late finishing their course and had clocked up an extra 50km, on top of the 340km full route – he later won a Wahoo ELEMNT should he need something to get him home next time.

I thoroughly enjoyed the event; the whole vibe was friendly and inclusive, the facilities were excellent, barring a pressure issue with the showers on Saturday – no dampening of spirit there – the toilets were particularly excellent. They were plentiful, clean and well-spaced throughout the whole event. All of the staff were cheerful and helpful, too. A big plus for me was the secure cycle storage from ABUS, which kept the hilltop venue free of dusty machines propped against every fence post or pergola.

If I were to be critical of anything, it would be the breakfasts: this was included in the event price but was little more than two fry-up items in a soft bap, with no accompanying drink; you would then have to queue up for tea or coffee at another vendor. For me, it wasn’t enough to fuel a start and it might’ve been better to have a packed-up, grab-and-go option that you could get stuck into in the first few kms.

Stone Circle is a fantastic event which I would definitely recommend you put on your bucket list – I’m already planning a return in ‘27 and I’ll be taking it up a peg by enrolling on the Rebel. Might even book myself an ill-advised tattoo. Does that make me a bit of a Rebel?

Find out more: www.stonecircle.cc