Wednesday Chain Gang – ‘Champagne Supernova’

 I start watching the weather reports in earnest on a Sunday, hoping in vain for dry, warm and windless Wednesday nights. This week it was clear that we would be in for a windy but mostly dry ride. That wind did a good job of drying the roads too; it saved us from the worst of the road spray that can plague the marsh lane sections of the chain gang route.

We had a great turnout of 24 riders despite the gusty south-westerly, more than enough for two groups. But the super-fasts set out with just six riders - a quarter or ‘Picolo’ of the group - the rest of us not really fancying or feeling capable of beating a speedy path into the wind. That outward leg was going to feel fearfully hard and I was thinking more about staying upright and not being blown to a standstill! Herbrand Walk in gusts of 35 to 40mph, whilst trying to keep up with the club’s finest?  ‘Not tonight’ seemed to be the general feeling.

The rest of us ‘Standard’ riders followed a minute behind, in a long line down Marina and Western Road, splitting into small groups before the stiff pull up South Cliff into that strong but warm wind. I found myself in a group of four, which gradually grew to seven riders somewhere along Herbrand Walk. Particularly strong gusts yanked at my front wheel as the wind blew through gaps between the beach huts; definitely a night for keeping both hands on the bars.

Another (Tom)  Strava Addict Is Born!

 For the first time in ages we were caught at the level crossing, but I was glad of the break after working hard to make headway to that point. We rode tight to each other’s back wheels to make sure we didn’t lose the shelter of the group, and worked well together along the lanes to the Star Inn (is that place open anymore?). I notice as the winter progresses that more riders are sporting snazzy mudguards; I’ve got some half-length ones somewhere I should really fit…

 I think I was leading the group when we hit Spooky Hill, trying hard to keep a decent pace going with what was more of a crosswind at this point. As usual, on the night, the hill sifted out the fresher and stronger legs. I pressed on in a group of four across the marsh with Tom ‘Magnum’ Norris, Simon ‘Balthazar’ Grogan and John ‘Demi’ Stainsby. Entering the old sprint section before the final bend, I was again at the head of the group, with Tom coming up alongside me. I played silly-buggers and sped up a bit before letting him in as we both built up speed, half-committing to a contest to reach the corner first but settling for a honourable draw.

 There followed a longish wait at the roundabout as small groups of riders kept arriving – had there really been this many at the start? With the last of them safely at the layby we set off in a more freestyle grouping. I fancied pushing myself so I set off with the ‘Supers’, spinning fast as I searched for the ideal gear ratio to match their quickening pace. They were oblivious to my fiddling about as we rode fast and two-abreast across the marshes, with me gasping for breath as they casually chatted, smoked cigars and quaffed champagne. Bastards…


It was my turn to be ‘sifted’ on Spooky Hill as the group maintained their speed and mine dropped, lungs and legs burning, hopes dashed, the bitter taste of failure rising in my throat, the harsh reality of a wasted youth slapping me in the face. Surely, a new carbon-fibre bike would give me the speed I need? Somehow, I don’t think so, but sometimes my limitations piss me off. I guess I’ve got to suck it up or do something about it.

 I rode solo down the hill, with the wind pressing on my back, from there to past the Star Inn where Malcolm overhauled me before the level crossing. I watched him pull away and catch a bike showing a very bright rear light that I too was slowly gaining on. Before I reached that rider, I was caught by Simon G and John S near the Cooden Beach Hotel. The wind was fierce as we turned right at the station, heading to the 90 degree left hand turn, knowing that the wind would give us a good shove up the sharp slope.

 Working together we soon caught the guy with the overly bright light on Cooden Drive, despite being half-blinded by the blinking brightness. Having shared our displeasure, we formed a group and rode fast with the wind to the lights, with Simon G breaking away strongly for a fast finish. He was not riding his fixie! The rest of the group arrived in ones and twos having fully enjoyed a wind-powered return. It’s one of the real pleasures of cycling, isn’t it? Making near effortless progress with the wind at your back, the fizz of your tyres on wet tarmac the only noise as you rip up the road.

 I rode back to Cooden and then Normans Bay with Stuart ‘Melchior’ Buckland and Peter ’Methuselah’ Buss, revisiting again the shingle-strewn joy of Herbrand Walk, in what seemed to be an even stiffer wind. Payback came on the return leg, surfing the blast towards home and a hot meal. Riding with the wind felt glorious; I could have kept going all night, zipping along with a big smile on my face.



Regards, Neil