Thursday 30 April 2015

Wednesday Chain Gang – That’s all for now


The Gods smiled on us after all. Having forecast heavy rain between 7pm and 9pm, neatly washing out the chain gang, what rain there was came early. The late afternoon sun and wind dried the road beautifully and apart from the cool and stiff south-westerly breeze, conditions were perfect for the last chain gang of the 2014-15 season.

 I had decided before arriving that I was not going to ride with the Ultras as the wind would batter me more than them. They set off a little ahead of the rest of us, with Steve C telling Simon G that ‘we might catch the Ultras at the lights’ or similar. Simon’s face was a picture - his eyebrows rose and his lip curled as he repeated with disdain ‘the Ultras? Blimey…’ And so the rest of us followed on in a large group, bunched and hunched low into the wind, none of us looking forward to the outward grind.

 We rode pretty well as a group, rotating as best we could between a wide range of abilities. The wind made smooth transitions at the front all the harder but we worked together knowing that losing the group would mean an even harder slog across the marshes. Stewart B was looking rather pleased with himself, his Giant X-Wing Aero 2000 Slice Foil Scalpel Razor GTS thing sucking him through the wind like a Kevlar sail. He’d sent his driver ahead with the weekday run-around (Porsche) should he find the ride too tiring. Us mere mortals were bent double over our bars, pushing hard to maintain a half-decent speed. Stewart was pedalling gently, munching foie gras and sipping champers, occasionally needing to trim his flaps for maximum efficiency. ‘How are you Stewart?’ I called. ‘Grifting nicely, thank you, now be a sport and bugger off’ he replied. ‘Nuf said, I know my place.




 Matt was riding well, now fully recovered from a debilitating and lengthy episode of ‘numb knob’, as reported in Peter B’s blog entry at the weekend. Thank you for sharing that – it’s good to raise awareness of things that chaps find hard to talk about, break down the stigma etc. Help is usually at hand for such problems. I find a mixture of dried chillies and olive oil, applied to the chamois pad in your shorts, ensures a healthy flow of blood to vital organs, although Peter B reports that this has not yet worked for him. I suggest he mix in some crushed Viagra tablets, but this might have unfortunate side effects (do please consult a medical professional before trying this at home). Just occasionally, I too have suffered similar symptoms. Whilst I quite enjoyed the pins and needles as feeling returned, I think this is not something I had to deal with when I had a saddle with a channel along the middle. Worth a look Matt? Peter, mate, I think it is too late for you, sorry.

 These issues aside, we rumbled onwards, fighting hard along Herbrand but then enjoying more of a side wind as we turned over the level crossing and made our winding way over the marsh lanes. Malc was often on the front and often somewhere ahead of us as he rode his antique single speed, training for the TT season perhaps? John S said taking the front was like stabbing your thighs with knives and I know what he means! Coming out of the shelter of the group was a bit of a shock for most of us, slowing the front rider more than usual and causing some consternation behind as the group slowed suddenly. The final sprint segment was far less wind affected and Tom N fancied his chances of leading us in. I cruelly eased past him, pausing to laugh evilly in his right ear before hoofing forward. Ok, childish, but I will not have the chance again until the autumn.

The return leg started well enough, with a small group of us going out at speed. Barney and Stuart H soon overtook us, both hacking past at a good lick. I upped my pedalling and dropped down a gear to catch them, just about bridging the gap before they went faster still and pulled away. I found myself riding alone, waiting for a following group to tag on to. I felt slower than usual, even with the wind behind me, but Strava tells me I achieved a good number of personal records along the marshes and Cooden Drive, showing how perceptions can be inaccurate. If I was fast, most everyone else was faster still, finishing the ride and the last chain gang in strong form. Post chain drinks at the Forum gave us a chance to chat about the chain gang rides this season and to discuss the pending time trial season. Perhaps it is time for some TT bars. Hmmm…

As is customary, I rode back with Peter B, handing him over to his nurse at the border with the Peoples’ Republic of Normans Bay. She was quite concerned, as Peter is not normally allowed a drink as it interferes with his medication. I explained that a half-pint of bitter shandy would not have much effect, although his speech might be slurred for a few hours. She looked less than happy on hearing this and I realised that Peter was in for a stern punishment from matron. Sorry Peter!

For the hell of it, I rode on to Pevensey roundabout and retraced the chain gang route to Bexhill, doing a double chain gang as a fitting way of celebrating the fun and freedom of riding a bike into the twilight. The second return leg was moonlit, something I have written about often in this blog (I know), and so for old time’s sake I turned off my lights on Herbrand and watched the moonlight glitter on the waves.

‘Peter Buss, Chief Missing Link, before medication’
And so ends the 2014-15 chain gang season, a mid-week pleasure I will sorely miss. I think we were lucky with the weather, for the most part, with only a couple of sessions swapped for ‘Cooden Crits’ and only a few ridden in truly horrible wind and rain. Numbers for the rides were consistently good, with many rides bringing out 20 to 30 riders (last night saw 32). Highlights for me have been the real improvement in the standard of group riding, especially as newer riders have got to grips with ‘through and off’. Also, the laps of Cooden when we feared ice were great fun.

But I remember best those rides in the more extreme weather. When you are riding in bad conditions, you wonder what on earth you are doing, but when you’re home – safe, dry and warm – it gives a great sense of achievement. They are a Wednesday adventure with drama, fresh air and banter that sustain me through the rest of the working week. Time Trials will replace them, as well as some unofficial ‘Missing Link’ rides when I cannot make the TTs in the bad lands of Hastings…




Regards, Neil

Tuesday 28 April 2015

Part Deux - a la weekend "All in a good cause"

De Paulos - 11:45 - half-way trough the ride.....

"I'm really quite surprised that you haven't taken ' a leaf out of my book'; you should be choosing items with a low glycemic index." I said to Matt and Patrick, as I licked the last of the fat-free yoghurt from the back of the spoon and laid it carefully on the top of the banana skin, whilst observing them tuck into their 'belly-busters.'

"Well, I only had cake!",  protested Neil, as he then proceeded to lick the tip of his index finger and use it as a tool to collect the last of the crumbs from the table.

"Yes, but John's (De Paulo) mum makes it and it's full of butter!", I said

I looked across at Matt and thought he somehow looked a bit different from a few minutes ago - and then it 'dawned' on me: "Are you wearing lip gloss?". (I only bat for the 'home team', so it's purely a observation, but he did look more 'snoggable'.)

"That's not lip gloss!", said Patrick with a triumphant look, as he wiped bean juice off his chin with the back of his hand. "While you were in the 'loo' he asked John to put goose fat on the complimentary toast instead of butter!"

Just then my phoned 'buzzed' - it was Mal C letting us know that he wouldn't be joining us - as he was tired and wanted to go home.  It had been a while since we had seen him.  I was relieved that he hadn't got lost this time, but had suffered a puncture.  Mal is in the same exclusive Geolexic (this is a term that I 'coined' to describe my condition) club as me and Steve C.  Steve will insist that he has the same natural instincts as a homing pigeon, but try separating him from his GPS and you will get an instant response: "WAH!,WAH!" - similar to the way a baby reacts when you remove it's dummy.

Earlier....Cooden Beach Station 08:00.

It never ceases to amaze me the selflessness of cyclists who will suffer the pain and deprivation of getting on their bikes to cycle vast distances, in the name of a good cause, when they would much rather be at home mowing the lawn, washing the car and trying to fix something that they've been 'nagged to death' about all week.

"What is it this time?, said Neil I don't normally take part in this kind of minor event, now that I'm an 'Ultra."

"It's to raise money for the Lesser Spotted Newt, they've been seen spawning in this area recently and there's a need to build a sanctuary for them", I explained.

"Oh, well, fair enough, but I won't be 'hanging around' you know.  I'll be setting a 'cracking' pace."

So off we set - Neil, Patrick, Matt and myself - meeting up with Mal C at the top of Galley Hill.

"He's right! - he doesn't hang around", said Patrick.

We were all struggling to keep on Neil's wheel; as he seemed to be on a mission to get as many miles 'under his belt' as possible before he was 'needed' at home.  We stayed as a group through the first two checkpoints, but then Neil suffered a puncture at Herstmonceux Castle and bade us:"Carry on without me chaps, I'll catch you up".  Sad, but secretly relieved we pushed on at a more sensible pace.

We collected our medals, after finishing the first 'lap' without incident, and started 'lap' two.

By the time we reached Spooky Hill, Matt was complaining about having tired legs and feeling 'bloated' from the sausages (he also mentioned - in passing - that he had a 'numb knob', but we chose to ignore this.).  We gave him some assistance until he felt better, and we made our way back to Hastings for the second time.

"Would you like to collect your medals then?", said the nice lady by the medals table.

"No, it's o.k, we got them last time, we're doing it twice", I said.

"Most people only do it once, but we did it twice", said Matt

"Oh, that' s really good of you", she said.

"I don't suppose you get too many people doing it twice - must be quite unusual", said Patrick

"Look, don't keep on about it, I get the picture! - what do you want a medal?"

"No, it's o.k, we got them last time", I said

Bearing in mind the monumental effort of Nigel this week (not forgetting JV & JSs mammoth rides), our century was 'small fry' but we didn't want to let it go unmentioned -it was only the second century for me, Patrick and Matt.

Having 'dipped my toe' into the Serra de Tramuntana mountain range whilst cycling in Majorca I have some appreciation of what it must have been like for Nigel.  Even more impressive is the fact that he did it all whilst wearing  Aldi gear - that cheaply made gusset must have been 'chaffing like a b@stard!'

Peter Buss

"Pete, Patrick and Matt posing by the toilets at Glynde Gap after a mega day's cycling"


Saturday 25 April 2015

24/4 HSLCC Fri Night Ride

Greg Happy To Join The Friday Night Ride!
Good conditions for the Friday night ride brought out an  average turnout of seven riders. Riding the Friday night ride for the first time was pre BBR regular Greg kemble. Greg had been practising the route on his own for a while so knew what to expect.

With plenty of daylight  the descent of Battery Hill was faster than normal. Despite being only four seconds outside my all time best I was significantly dropped by the others but we were all together by the entry into the nature reserve and stayed together to the bottom of the Broad Oak drag. As usual everyone became spread out as the faster riders accelerated away. Living at Westfield Greg had already been up Stonestile and so my legs were fresher than his. This enabled me to get past him and keep a gap of about thirty seconds right until the top.

We had a particularly  fast climb up the 'cut through to Doleham lane' with all of us gaining some of the fastest times of 2015.

Unfortunately we would be denied the chance to observe Greg achieving his traditional Stonestile victory photograph, as he turned for home at Westfield, leaving the rest of us to sweep left onto the 'Stonestile Approach'

I felt better than normal on the stiff climb, probably due to the combined effects of  last Saturdays 92 mile epic Pre BBR special and the iron rich steak I had enjoyed on Thursday. For once I managed to get and stay ahead of Dan on the climb which gave me a 'pat on the back' from Nathan at the top.

It was nice to have a good safe Friday night ride with no incidents or punctures, hopefully Greg will now become a regular?

Friday 24 April 2015

Wed Chain Gang - Part Deux "Is it left over right, or right over left....?"


Last Week...

"Stand aside, let the dog see the rabbit."

Peter B (the other Peter B) pushed his way through the cyclists gathered around the figure of Neil slumped on the ground.

"What happened ?",he asked.

"Well, I was waiting with the other Ultras, when Neil arrived, and he seemed to be overwhelmed by the sight of  all the Ultras sitting astride their super-bikes", said Alex

"Well, why is lying on the ground with that nasty bruise on his forehead and with that rock clasped in his hand."

"It was really odd, his eyes started to glaze over, he picked up that rock and then whacked himself over the back of the head! - why would he do that? - I don't understand?."

"Don't know for sure, son, the human brain is a real mystery, but I do have a theory", replied Peter whilst stroking his chin.

"Oh, what's that then; are you a psychiatrist?", said Alex

"Well, I'm a psychologist."

"What's the difference."

"We make eye contact with out clients and don't mumble so much."

"Oh, o.k."

"Anyway, let me explain; I've read about the Shaolin Monks in China....look,will you stop doing that!, it's not helping" - Peter B was turning his attention to Simon who was poking Neil with the toe of his cycling shoe

"I'll soon get the b*gger up!", said Simon

"Just leave him alone!. Now as I was saying; with these monks it's about proving their true devotion to the teachings of Buddha by hitting themselves over the head with bricks. I think that's what Neil must be doing - it's a kind of over-zealous religious thing. He's just showing his devotion to The Ultras"

Just then Neil started to stir.

"See I told you I'd get some reaction from him.", said Simon.

"Oh, dear me! - I don't quite know what happened.  I remember arriving here, but then everything's blank.  Although I did have this really strange dream about a car crash involving a young girl in a sports car on Sluice Lane - it was almost like I'd been in some kind of a time loop. It was so 'real'; it's like it really happened."

This week....

"Buy cheap, buy twice" - that's what my old mum used to say - bless her. In the case of cycling equipment this is often the case.  When I bought my matching plastic drinks holders from Ebay, last year, I really knew I should have bought the carbon ones to match my carbon frame, but I couldn't seem to bring myself to pay the extra and so settled for plastic.  'Chickens came home to roost' last night when I decided to take a quick sip from my bottle, before the 'off', and the cage snapped.  John S did his best to assist by cramming the bottle into my jersey pocket, but then Nigel (the hirsute one, not the Aldi one) kindly offered to keep it in his spare cage.  I'm not saying the weight saving made any difference, but it just sort of felt good - like having a domestique.

It was a really speedy outward leg and I broke loads of Prs; more to do with the wind than a sudden surge in form, but felt good nonetheless.  On the way back, after a delusional few minutes riding with The Ultras, I found myself in a grouping of Iain, Calvin and John S.  We worked really well together and then spotted a luminous figure up-ahead; who else could it be other than Neil (incidentally Neil's shirt is the only other man-made object, along with the great wall of china, that is visible from space.) He seemed to be in a Zen like state, very much at ease with himself, but his injection of pace was appreciated by the rest of the group.

Earlier....


"I take two sheets, fold in half and move back to front whilst applying just the right amount of pressure.", I said

"Yes, that's correct, well done", said Vicki

Vicki is just about to leave for a weeks holiday in Majorca and is looking for assurance that I am capable of wiping my own backside while she is away.

"Now, what do we do if old Mr Skiddy turns up, uninvited?"

"We bash him over the head with the toilet brush!"

"Excellent, I'm very impressed"

"I've laid out your underwear in pairs and marked them with the days of the week; now you won't just start using them out of order, like you did last time?, you got in a right old 'pickle' and just carried on wearing the same ones for two weeks; I had to throw them out when I got home!."

"No, don't worry, I shan't make that mistake again!", I reassured her.

"One, more thing: which of those tin boxes do I use to wash my kit in, is it the one with the drop down front?", I asked.

"Don't be an idiot! - that's the dish washer - it's the other one."

"Oh, O.k, right you are."

"Now, you won't forget that it's Poppy's 'Fine Dining" night tomorrow, will you?. I've put the lobster tails in the bottom of the fridge.  And please don't put lemon juice on them - I know you find it funny when she squints her eyes and puts her tongue out, but it's very unkind", said Vicki

"Ahh, Poppy rike robster!" - followed by lots of giggling.

"Do please try to act like an adult, at least!."

"Sorry."

"The rest of the week she can just have her normal dog food.  There's a tray of filet mignon in the freezer - just take one out to defrost the night before."

"No problemo."

"Oh, and another thing;  you won't be wearing any lace up shoes while I'm away will you - you know what happened last time? You tied the laces together and fell over - bashing your head on the wardrobe door and smashing the mirror!."

"No, it's O.K, now it's got warmer I'll be wearing my flip-flops mostly, and my cycling shoes have Velcro fastening.so don't you go worrying your pretty little head over that one!"

"Now, please be careful when you cross the border, the English are still very angry with us since we broke away to form The PRNB.  I think it mostly stems from jealousy - it was such an amazing discovery of young Jake Ewesson when he found all those rich mineral deposits by the Sluice while out fishing." said Vicki

"Yes, and also I don't think they can get their 'heads around' our liberal laws. I, for one, am very much looking forward to Jude Merryweather's wedding when you get back - I mean who would begrudge him the chance of finding happiness after his first wife died? .  And his other sister is so much like her - I think they make a perfect couple!."

"Yes, quite right!.  Anyway I will miss you sweetie, and don't forget to pick me up from Polegate next week - l'll text you the flight arrival time."

"Bye, darling - have fun"

"Bye - see you soon"

Vicki sets off down the path, suddenly stops, turns around and says:

"Oh, I forgot: the committee have asked me to nominate an English man to be this years 'Wicker Man' - any ideas?"

"Well, I was thinking about recommending Neil Smith."

"But I thought he was a good friend of yours?"

"He is, I really like him, but he has been very disrespectful to the republic; he has been mocking us in his blogs recently."

"Do you think he will squeal? - I love it when they squeal as the flames take hold."

"Mmmm I'm not sure - he seems more 'stiff upper lip'; oh, hang on, what about Stewart Buckland? - he'll definitely squeal! - the posh ones always do."

"Great, that's settled then, I'll sort it out when I get back."

Vicki and I together:

"Fee-fi-fo-fum, we smell the blood of an English man, Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha."


Peter Buss

Wednesday Chain Gang – Fast Night

 The almost but not quite superb spring weather continues with warmth and sunshine, but also with that nagging east wind beloved of Peter Buss (his wiring is all wrong). The breeze last night was significant, making for a rapid outward leg for the 26 or so riders that (more or less…) made the start. I expected more, frankly, given the good conditions and that next week is the last chain gang until the autumn. Time trials and long summer rides await us, with long warm days on which wet and windy November chain gangs will seem impossible.

 A dozen Ultras set out first and were caught again near the De La Warr by the temporary lights. The council tell me that the work here will be completed by December 2016, so that’s good – you can see the huge difference it is making to road safety by creating squeeze points for cyclists on a national cycling route. Hurrah! Add a zebra crossing if you want to help the pedestrians; as a cyclist make sure you look behind and then ‘take the road’ at these points so that cars have to wait behind you to get through.

 With ideas above my station, I rode behind the front two of Barney (awesomely awesome) and Stuart Hodd (stupendously superb), riding as close as sensible along the front, keeping in touch up South Cliff and along Cooden Drive. The group began rotating the front at this point, fast around the Cooden Curves and then out of the saddle on Herbrand Walk as we looked to keep up the pace on the slight rise from the junction.

 We were rumbling along nicely when we encountered a ruck of other riders (bloody cyclists!), pootling along unaware of the juggernaut of speedy riders approaching from behind. Good communication saw us safely and swiftly around them, then on to the level crossing and the twisty section before the Star Inn. The pace was high with a good breeze behind us, and Spooky Hill soon approached. I was determined to hang on with the group this week. I went up just a second slower than the KoM speed I went up at two weeks ago, but the group was faster still this time. A bunch broke my time, with the truly spectacular Stuart Hodd bagging the new KoM for the hill segment, knocking three seconds off the old record. Chapeau Stuart!

 Even though I was only three seconds off the pace, I was gapped and then dropped as they sped onwards down the west slope of the hill. I pressed as hard as I could but they were pulling away. I had a short ray of hope in the form of Neil Shier and Ruth Summerford as they tried also to make their way to the group, but the pace beat them also. Have the Ultras become the Mega Ultras? What do we call them after that – Mega Ultra Gods?


Well, that was me cooked for the return leg into the wind, so I rode back in a group as far as Spooky Hill, before taking the tactical decision to drop back a bit further so that I could ride with just about everyone that had turned up last night. You know, ‘sharing the love’ as they say. I was well off the pace before tagging on with a group that included John S, Kelvin and some others, making a reasonable job of through and off.

 Hacking back down Herbrand we saw a shortish, bearded chap waving and cheering from the pavement, clearly very excited by our display of power and speed. As we rode closer I realised it was a celebrity fan, one Graham Norton, walking to his house near the beach huts. Now, some doubters refuse to believe this, but I assure you it is true – I understand that his mother lives in Bexhill and that he has a place down here so he can visit her. So there you go.

 Chain gang complete, a group of us set off back towards Normans Bay and Eastbourne – Stewart B, Peter B (no relation, or then again…), Duncan F, Ruth, Tom, Neil Shier and me. A mini chain formed, out of habit, but with liberal amounts of shouting, abuse and foolery thrown in. We came to the east slope of the Cooden Bump and I fancied my chances of a PR (failed), jumping out of the saddle and going for it, with Stewart B giving chase on his Grifter. I could tell it was he without looking back, due to the noise of those deep-section chrome rims and knobbly tyres. Very retro, very loud.

The others caught up and then Tom N sped by, obviously keen to make a point. Shouts of derision followed him and then we were off in pursuit, chasing him down like greyhounds after a hare. Some semblance of decorous behaviour returned but we were still riding at a good pace. We passed more cyclists on Herbrand, stopping to help Sean with a puncture by the look of it (obviously nicer people than us). Ruth confessed to having ‘woman-flu’ and fully accepted that the male version – man flu – must be a very debilitating illness indeed. It takes a brave woman to recognise what us chaps have known for centuries. Well done Ruth.

 Having dropped Peter off at his rest home, I was reluctant to continue across the marsh, given the events of last week, but it was that bit earlier and lighter so I rode on before returning to Bexhill. There are no scary happenings to report – no mysterious voices, disappearing cars or sudden changes in temperature – just cooling spring air, lambs and that bloody wind! Make sure you make the chain gang next week and come in fancy dress – Tom has promised to come as a fairy, Simon G as the Grinch and Peter B as Widow Twanky.  I can’t wait.

 
Regards, Neil

Sunday 19 April 2015

18/4 Pre-BBR Brighton Special

A couple of months ago myself and the illustrious Mr Pete Buss had organised a Pre-BBR Special to Lewes. http://hastingscc.blogspot.co.uk/2015/01/101-pre-bbr-special-40-miles-of-headwind.html
This attracted a small group of just five riders who stubbornly  rode through 78 miles of pretty awful weather with cold fierce winds and flooded roads. With the onset of Spring we decided to extend that route (originally supplied by Nigel T) as far as Brighton and then come back via the university, through Kingston and over the seven sisters coastal route.

Some Of The Super Turnout For The Pre-BBR Special 
There was a good turnout for the Hastings departure at 7;20 and we arrived at Normans bay with around eight minutes in hand. At first there was just the familiar figure of Pete Buss patiently hunched over his TCR but as the clock moved forward , rider after rider kept appearing until it was hard to count them all.Our final tally came to sixteen riders including some familiar and less familiar riders. Among the less familiar riders were the very tall figures of Gary Lake and his mate Paul , along with the equally tall figure of Patrick. I think the average height of the club has grown by a couple of inches in the last few months! This delighted myself and Pete as we never expected such a large group although we did feel a bit under pressure in having to deliver a good safe ride.

One of the last riders to appear was 'Captain Caveman' himself (Nigel T) which was particularly fitting as he had originally mapped out the initial part of the route we were to follow. Some riders had had little sleep , having been out until 2:00 am with JV and the others revellers on the post social curry evening, and after daring to use phal curry sauce they were suffering the ring of fire, lol

Unfortunately there was something wrong with the gpx/tcx file I had sent out. Those of us with more modern garmins found that the gps kept re-routing and was insisting that we do the ride the other way round. this was very strange but apparently JV had  complained of a similar problem on a different ride. Luckily due to the problems of reading a Garmin colour screen in sunshine I also had with me my trusty eight year old garmin 205 with its black and white breadcrumb trail, this unit was not effected by this strange malady.

With a stiff south westerly wind at our backs we made easy progress through Hailsham, Ringmer and Ditchling. This route had around 5,000 feet of climbing over its 92 miles but where were all the hills?
Waiting For Tom's Ice Cream!
The first significant hill of course was the famous climb of Ditchling Beacon. I was surprised the number of riders who had never climbed this before so there was a nervous anticipation as we hit the bottom of the climb which rises up with a 3% gradient before steepening to a 9% gradient for the last 1.1 miles of the climb. The climb didn't seem to phase anyone and we all got up quite easily with myself bringing up the rear. One of the first to arrive was the 'Bianci Bomber' who made a beeline for the ice cream van. Unfortunately 10 minutes later Tom was still standing there and the troops were getting restless. Unable to wait no longer I crossed over to find out what the delay was and it turned out Tom was the first customer of the day and it would take a while for the ice cream to be prepared. Another five minutes and we were finally off with Tom clutching his cornet as we began the fast descent.

This is one of the greatest and longest descents anywhere in the south east and it was great fun accelerating past some of the lighter riders (I wish I had had a go-pro with me to film it!). When plotting this route I had mapped it so that we would do the complete descent down to the university. On paper this looked obvious but unfortunately the road soon spread out into a Y. Were we supposed to be taking the left or the right fork? With only the old bread crumb trail to guide me I could not tell? . This caused some dangerous hesitation on my part with riders slowing down behind me while other riders ahead of me had chosen the left hand fork. Stopping in the little area between the two forks we were in a very dangerous position but quickly realised it was the right fork and so headed off in the appropriate direction (to avoid this ever happening again I have remapped the descent with a tun off before the Y through Stanmer park)

With relief we reached the cycle path alongside the A27 and rode into the university where we hoped to find refreshments. We found an ideal large cafe at the rear of the university with lost of large tables outside. Our enjoyment was only spoiled by the thought that our navigation error meant that Ivan, Paul Malc and Gary had gone the wrong way. Speaking to Ivan on the mobile they had now gone as far as Lewes, it was too late  for them to turn back but they would seek out a cafe in Newhaven and rendevous back with us there . Ten minutes later we had a call from Malcolm, apparently he wasn't with Ivan , somehow he had gone right instead of left and was now at Brighton Marina on the coast! Malcolm said he would just press along on his own.

Suitably refreshed it was back to the cycle path for us all the way to Kingston. This cycle path parallel to the A27 is a Godsend , it felt so strange riding along so safely while cars at 80 mph whisked past just a few metres away to the right.

The route from Kingston to Newhaven was my favourite part of the whole days riding with some lovely quiet roads along a slight downhill in warm sunshine.Despite heading into the wind we were shltered from the worst of it by the surrounding hills. At Newhaven I had planned to ring Ivan et al at the bridge but by pure luck they were just coming out of a side road as we passed by. Except for Malcolm, we were all back together.

We were soon on the seven sisters route. This is where most of the days climbing would be. We no longer enjoyed much shelter from the wind and the next 30 miles were going to be a slog. I felt pretty good ad had the endurance to plod steadily up the climbs while some of the other riders stared to fade a little, I was no longer the slowest climber.

I was very impressed with the two peter Bs. they were both climbing really strongly all day .They were the two front riders on the Cuckmere Haven climb. Unfortunately some unpleasant car diver who was pi**ed off at having to slow down for the long line of  (single file) cyclists decided to wind down his window and along with his delightful passenger shout all manor of obscenities and threats to the two Pete's. Furthermore when the Petes stopped at the bus stop to wait for the rest of the riders, the car pulled in as well. Presumably the driver and his passenger were going to get out of the car and do goodness knows what. Fortunately as they looked round they could see a mass of other riders appearing ,thought better of it  and so drove off!

Shaken but unbowed the two Petes and the rest of us pressed on with the Beachy Head climb,our last major obstacle. The wind was strengthening and it took a long time for us to all reach the pub at the top. There waiting for us was none other than Malcolm, hooray we ere all together at last.

Normally the decent from Beachy towards Eastbourne seafront is great fun but  today it was spoiled by the increasingly blustery wind trying to knock us off our line.

Who's Up For The cafe?
By the time we got to Pevenesy bay I was feeling wobbly and dreaming of slices of cake and big mugs of hot tea. For me, Patrick and Nigel T, the cafe was irresistible so we said goodbye to the others.

We did have to pay a price for this later in that there were only three of us to take turns leading into the wind at 13mph all the way back to Hastings.

Many thanks to all those who came on this ride, a classic route that we will possibly do again in the autumn .

Steve Curtis






Friday 17 April 2015

15/4 Wednesday Night Chain Gang – The Ultra Express

Well, what is a chap to wear? A lovely warm day suggested shorts and a strong vest, but I thought ahead to the marshes and riding in the early evening in April. Hmm, tricky – I went with longs and a short sleeve top, with arm warmers stuffed in a pocket for later, fearing temperatures would soon fall once the sun had set. As we rumbled along Bexhill front I heard more than one rider say they had cold legs, and the temperature on the marshes can drop significantly, for all sorts of reasons, as you will see…

 Just fewer than 30 riders thought it a splendid evening for a chain gang and so it proved, with warm airs in the town and no wind to speak of. Eleven ‘ultras’ made off first with me again chancing my arm with the big boys (and girls). I’m nursing a chest infection at the moment, so I was not sure how well I would ride (yep, getting my excuses in early). To start with we made comfortable progress to the edge of town, the pace increasing gradually as we got nearer to Herbrand Walk.




 There were no stones to contend with this week and we rode as a tight group to the turn for the level crossing, without being filmed either (so that’s what I look like on a bike!). So far so good – I had just one or two coughing fits, having told the supremely smooth Stuart Hodd that the only time I hadn’t been coughing was when riding the bike. Nearly true – definitely coughed less, but there was more wheezing. My legs lacked the snap and fizz of recent weeks; not a good omen.

 On we sped, hacking around the twists and turns of the road that lead to the Star Inn, calling the traffic and squeezing up to make space. Once over the bridge, we rode on to Normans Bay (People’s Republic of…) and then, still in a group, pressed on up Spooky Hill. Last week, this was the scene of some triumph for me, as I shot up it in 1m 15secs, sharing the KoM with some illustrious riders. But this week I was 18 seconds and 20% slower, going up in 1m 33secs. Ugh! Not enough in the legs. More annoying though was seeing the group pull away, gapping me by 10secs or so before hitting the down slope by Rock Cottage. I could not make up the pace and I rode the rest of the outward leg alone, losing more time without the benefit of the group to break the wind.

 I got dropped on Spooky Hill again on the way back, but fell into a group (the ‘Sub-Ultras’) with Tom Norris, Nick and the gentleman who rides a lovely powder-blue steel bike, with shifters on the down tube. We rode a pretty neat and tidy chain on the return leg, rotating the lead fairly consistently. We didn’t quite get the front right, with the pace varying too much which tired us, but we stuck together to very nearly the end. Tom put on a spurt as the lights came near, but by luck I was tucked in behind him again and found the legs to pull around him and edge ahead to the finish.  Always a gent, we shook hands after honourable combat.

Stuart was pleased to report a strong ride from the PB team, with three of them pulling strongly to the end. I think they are coming into a spell of good form -  have a look at the KoMs that the awesomely powerful Barney and Stuart piled up last night on the way to the chain. The rest of the ultras are working well too, hopefully improving their performance week on week and providing the competition for each other that will drive still better performance over the summer.

 Elsewhere, Peter B reported a good group ride with Simon G and others, saying that he ‘spanked them good and proper’, but that I shouldn’t mention it in the blog. Ok, I won’t, but I will mention that he recorded the ride, using Strava, as a run, breaking the course record and making himself no1 runner out of 381 rivals. I think that one will stand for a while Peter – congratulations!

Stewart B was on his Grifter again, mashing his pedals like mad and damaging the tarmac with his ‘hi-grip’ tyres. He tells me that he carries a range of plumbing tools with him, in case he gets an emergency call whilst out on the bike. He was also sporting his ‘go-faster’ tattoos last night – images of speeding Tour de France riders cascade down his arms and up his legs, disappearing under his cycling gear and then reappearing at his neck. He did most on them himself during a stretch at Pentonville, but he didn’t want me to mention that, so I won’t. What’s past is past Stewart – we knew you couldn’t pay for that roller purely from your plumbing and piping profits. We don’t judge, we just ride (man).

I enjoyed a great ride back to Normans Bay, chatting briefly to Ruth and hearing about her leg wounds (nasty – get well soon). She sped off in pursuit of Tom and others who were still feeling competitive, so I fell into an easy pace with Peter B. Bats whirled around us in the lanes and cars, blinded by Peter’s mega-bright lights, veered towards the hedges and ditches. Turn them down Peter!

 It was such a pleasant night that I decided to ride on after dropping Peter at the border with PRNB, heading off to repeat the chain route to the Pevensey roundabout and then back into Bexhill. The riding was easy enough and I pushed myself a bit but not too hard, concentrating more on spinning the pedals in circles, rather than thumping them hard on each down stroke. I turned at the roundabout and swept back onto the lanes, consciously relaxing my upper body and keeping my breathing even and deep. Then coughing madly.

The sun was setting and the first dark of early night inched over the land, its shadowy fingers feeling their way through the hedges and rushes, hushing birds and quieting insects until the sun again touches and wakes them. The suddenly-silent marshes quickly became cold and I was pleased that I had put on my arm warmers. I increased my pace a little, not wanting to get chilled, but the ride continued pleasantly as I reached the area by the nature reserve. Half a kilometre or so from the west slope of Spooky Hill it became colder still – unusually – so I hunched my shoulders, lowered myself toward the bars and upped the pace further.

 And then, the strangest feeling, of someone close behind me, almost touching my back - a feeling of a hand stretching towards me. Was someone..?

 ‘Hello.’

 A girl’s voice, clear and even, light and cheerful. I jumped out of my skin. Where the hell? Then nothing – no sound or sight of anyone. Jesus! Then a car was alongside me, a girl of 18 or so in the passenger seat, pretty, dark-haired. Fear crept up my back like a large red spider, tickling and scratching.

‘Hello’ she said, smiling, looking in my direction, but somehow not at me. I wobbled and half smiled, confused, perturbed.

She laughed and the car sped forward: noisy, smoky, too fast. Where on earth did it come from? Before I could think or respond the car was gone. Had it turned its lights off and parked? It wasn’t fully dark so I should be able to see it. If this was a game, I was not enjoying it at all. It did not feel right and I was afraid.

What to do other than keep pedalling home, to make contact again with the reassuring signals of normality – street lights, houses, cars and people walking their dogs? Pedal on Neil, hopefully that’s the last you’ll see of them; pedal home to wife, children and a hot meal.

 I rode on briefly, my breathing returning to normal and my legs shaking less as I went on. Some way ahead, a car’s lights came towards me. It pleased me to think that ‘normal’ was back and I smiled with relief. Instinctively, I pulled slightly left to make more room on the road. The car came on towards me and suddenly that feeling – of someone being too close, too cold, with uncertain intent – came back to me.

 The car started to weave left and right, from one side of the road to the other, in a sickening swinging motion. I heard laughter, high and mocking. I looked for somewhere to pull over, to get off the road, but the car was coming at me quicker than I could think – my mind was in a chilly fog, unable to react, hypnotised by the car’s left and right movement. ‘Hold still’ a soft voice said and I fell under its spell – numb, scared, my life about to be smashed on the bonnet of a hatchback. At the last moment, I closed my eyes and waited for oblivion, wife and children flashing into my mind’s eye.

 ‘BANG’ – a sickening high-energy thump sent a shockwave through the air and knocked the wind out of me. Gasping, choking, I thought ‘this is it, this is how it ends’, but I felt no pain. Shock forced my eyes open again and in front of me, no more than five metres away, was the car, stock-still, silent. It looked as if it had hit a tree head-on, but there was nothing ahead of it but me. The front was completely caved in, the windscreen smashed and the engine shoved back into the cabin.

 My breath returned and I staggered backwards, unable to take in the scene. Some part of me responded, remembering the training I’ve had as a motorcyclist to deal with crashes. My legs moved me forward as I raised my right hand in front of me.

 ‘Don’t move, look at my hand’ I shouted, as I walked toward the car, anxious that the occupants didn’t move their heads and make worse any neck or head injuries. ‘Keep looking at my hand, keep still, I’m coming to help, look ahead, look ahead’ I shouted, my voice trembling in fear of what I would find in the car. ‘Keep still, let me help you’ I said as I reached the driver’s side first.

No-one was there, there was no sign of anyone. I looked across to the passenger seat – it was the girl, not moving, her face turned away from me, her body slumped in the seat surrounded by the jumbled contents of the car – a deicer can, sweets, a bloody road map crumpled on her lap.

I ran around the car. Her unconscious head was resting on the passenger window. No choice other than to open the door, carefully, and be ready to catch her if she fell sideways. I put my hand to the door handle, ready to lift it. I felt its weight as I pulled upwards, the spring in the latch resisting my fingers.

Just as the handle reached the point of release, she looked up, smiling, but looking in my direction rather than at me, as if focused on something or someone distant. And then her eyes glazed over, her skin turning to fragile white china, her hair falling dull and lifeless around her face; lips blue, blood drying black and everything wrapped in an icy, bone-chilling cold. I gasped in shock, pulling up sharply on the handle, but then pulling up through thin air as the door, the car, the girl – all of it – ‘ceased to be’. I fell on my backside, unsure which way I was facing, how long I had been there or where my bike was.

There was nothing to show anywhere - no broken glass, spilled coolant, shredded tyres or stinking petrol - to mark the spot where moments before I had thought I was going to be hit head on by a car. I span round, realising I had my phone in my hand, clearly intending at some point to call 999, clearly having not done so, and good thing too.

I can’t say it disappeared because I’m not sure it was ever there. But scrabbling back onto my bike, trying to clear my mind and work out the basics like ‘which way is home’, I came to the realisation that I had been in a loop of time, stumbled into once and perhaps never again, by me or anyone else. I’d cycled through a hidden door and seen something that perhaps had happened once, 10 years ago, maybe there, maybe somewhere else – a jumble of memories and images burned into time by tragic death and loss.

 Getting home quickly was my priority, getting away from the marshes. I was exhausted, as if I had been cycling for hours with no food or drink, but I cycled as fast as I could, eager to get to Herbrand Walk. On the east slope of Spooky Hill (ha!) a fox cried out from the marshy field to the right, making my heart thump and my throat gag with fear. ‘Calm down mate’ I said out loud, stooping low over the bars to gain as much speed as possible. Every moment dragged as I rode on, legs turning through syrup, wondering if I would make the beach without expiring or crashing for real. Still the cold bit into me, tightening my lungs and making my stomach ache bitterly.

 The level crossing came into view across the curves of the road. My heart leapt with relief and then fear as the lights began to flash red and the barriers dropped. Damn, let me out of here! I slowed down, determined not to stop. If I could time it right, I could keep rolling, as if this in some way made me safer from unknown dangers. Where was that train? Ah, there! Coming from Cooden Beach station, just two coaches. Steady does it… The barriers lifted in front of me and I was able to roll over the rails.

As I did so I felt I left behind another realm hidden behind an invisible curtain. No word of a lie, the temperature instantly rose, maybe by as much as 10 degrees, like stepping from a cold garage into a warm living room. The starkest change I have ever felt in all my rides back and forth over the marsh. With the cold I also left that feeling of foreboding that weighed heavy on my shoulders, its last icy grip making me want to weep with a sense of loss and timeless sleep. Just keep pedalling…

 More signs of our usual world came into view as I rode hard along the top of the beach. Warm orange street lights, houses lit by lights and flickering television screens, a car pulling out of the Cooden Hotel car park. Nearly home, I felt relief and a strange kind of peace come over me, as if I had been shown something fearful but which I did not need to fear. It was not my story, but someone else’s, long gone, remembered by only a few people unknown to me. Not the future either, although my four daughters were very much in my mind. A word to them about being driven around by daft lads, I think.


Having pulled down the garage door and parked the bike, I sat alone and quiet for a moment. How close we are to other times – the scattered polaroid’s of the past - but how very unaware we are, as we rush and bustle about, of what has happened in a place and how much has happened over hundreds and thousands of years. Sussex has deep history and you breath it in every time you ride its lanes and hills, you taste it as you stare out to sea from its beaches and your dreams are coloured by the brushstrokes of past lives. Go gently.

Neil Smith

Monday 13 April 2015

Crawley To Hastings (Mostly ) Off Road!

Runners Reunited!
Having read a lot of books recently about bike packing on an mtb I found myself scanning the maps to see if there was a long distance route home that we could do using mtbs rather than road bikes. In the south east there are three converted Sustrans rail tracks: The Worth Way, The Forest Way and the Cuckoo trail. The first two link together easily and the end of the forest way is only about eight miles from the start of the Cuckoo trail at Heathfield, plus some of those eight miles could be done on a few bits of bridle ways. The cuckoo trail would take us almost to Pevensey bay from where it would only be half a chain-gang on the road to get home, the ride was on!

Catching the train to Crawley (three bridges) was easy as we had the train almost entirely to ourselves and it was only a tenner each with only one change over at Redhill to our final destination.

Getting off the station we found the start of the route within a few minutes and could now relax and enjoy mile after mile of car free riding along the Forest way/Worth way. We knew that Sustrans had done a lot of improvement work on these routes and was expecting it to be tarmacked like the Cuckoo trail. This wasn’t the case but the closely packed cinder was in great condition and our pace wasn’t that far off a typical road pace despite the drag from our two inch knobblies.
Arriving at Eridge it was time to get on the road for Heathfield. This didn’t look far on the map but with quite tough undulating terrain , I found that the combination of heavy mtb, heavy riders and full knobblies made it pretty tough . There were no complaints about the roads


though which were so traffic free it almost felt like a continuation of the off road sections. The couple of off road bridleways were great and helped to avoid some of the less pleasant road areas.

By the time we got to Heathfield we were feeling peckish but no café could be found. We decided to press on to the ‘bikers’ café at Horam. At one point I got stuck at a road junction and lost sight of the others. I wasn’t concerned, ‘how can you get lost on the Cuckoo trail’?
This was The Correct 'Bikers' cafe!
Unfortunately I missed the turn off the trail at Horam and only realised my mistake when I saw a sign for Hailsham. Doubling back for Horam wasn’t too hard and after ringing Ivan to tell him where I was, I found myself alone at the lake side café. I had taken  this to mean the ‘biker’s café but another quick phone call made me aware that when they said ‘bikers’ café they meant the hairy Hells Angel type of biker not the skinny tyred lycra cladded variety.

By the time I got to the correct cafe, the others were all lounging around waiting for their orders so I had to join the rather long queue on my own. I felt a bit self-conscious standing in lycra shorts sandwiched between lots of large tough looking bikers in leathers  and denim, the place was packed.

Eventually our food had arrived and been eaten. It was now time to get back on the trail. From here it’s slightly all downhill to the ‘Sovereign harbour’ and we were there in no time.
Lady luck was smiling on us as we then enjoyed a strong head wind which pushed us all the way back to Hastings , maintaining a steady 20mph speed all the way back home. Our knobblies were really buzzing and Steve D commented that we sounded like a pack of bees.

We all agreed this was one of my better ideas and that it should become an annual event, hooray!

Steve C

Saturday 11 April 2015

10/4 Fri Night Ride- French Window

The Bianchi Bomber Arrives
With the relatively warm evening we had an above average turnout of eight riders for the Friday night ride. Great to see the Bianchi Bomber on only his second ever Friday night ride and also Nathan coming back from a long spell off the bike (now on a new alloy Kinesis rather than his old Specialized Allez)We all arrived in good time which gave us chance to chat about Chris P's email about contacting the French cycle club of Buchy. Some time ago they contacted us about coming over and riding with us, but with all the things going on nothing has been done about about arranging anything yet. General consensus was that we should fix a date well into the future , as Simon quipped "what we need to do Steve is to make a French window", lol.
Good To See The Return Of Nathan!

Now that the clocks have moved forward, the descent of battery Hill is far less daunting and I easily managed to keep up with most of the others gaining my second fastest ever Strava time for the descent .

Initial Steady riding past the sea defences was done to ensure all riders were together , this soon gave way into a brief through and off chain that spirited us along into the reserve.

While riding next to Patrick through  the reserve I could hear a 'flapping' sound coming from his bike but we assumed it was a leaf or something that had got stuck between the frame and the tyre. Unfortunately by the time we had got to the harbour exit road, it soon became obvious by the slowly deflating tyre that something nasty had managed to embed itself in the rubber. Assisted by Nathan and with some frantic pumping of an old style pump, Patrick managed to get the tyre pressure up high enough to ride.

Off we all set again but unfortunately dead ahead of us was a small but deep little pothole. I didn't see it until it was too late, hitting it with a clunk but coming out unscathed but unfortunately Patrick who was right behind me did the same thing but ended up with punctures in both tyres!
Luckily between us all we had an impressive number of spare tubes (I always carry three these days) and with Nathan working on the front tyre and Patrick working on the rear it didn't take too long to fix although again the final pressure was not great. After this, Patrick is convinced of the benefits of gas cylinders, not least because they give you a good riding pressure.

Tom and Malc D were at the junction of the main road and rung me up wondering where we were. Having informed them of Patrick's puncture predicament we reassured them we would be there soon.

Regrouping at the junction, the rest of the ride up to Broad Oak proceeded without incident although Patrick had a lonely ride unable to hang onto the main group due to his squidgy tyres slowing him down.

Our decent through Brede towards Westfield was a little more careful than normal as we had noticed that the beeding on one of Patrick's tyres had become damaged so we advised him to take it easy on the fast descents

Nathan branched off at Doleham and John S branched off at Westfield while the rest of us turned off in the direction of the Stonestile approach.

We completed the Stonestile approach in a good time before hitting the initial slopes of the climb  last time I did Stonestile I was able to keep Pete and Dan within sight, but they were both climbing the steep sections really well and soon left me on my own in the dark. It was then that I thought I could hear the occasional gasp somewhere in the distance, but twisting my head to look behind I could see nothing. Perhaps it was the ghost of Stonestile? The higher I got the louder the gasping became and eventually I caught a glimpse of light. This was no ghost. I then realised it must be Tom, he must have followed John by mistake and missed the turn! Sure enough on regrouping with the others at the top, everyone was asking where is Tom? Their questions were soon answered when a sweating gasping Tom came into view exclaiming 'this is bloody hard, lol!

Steve C
Despite Tonight's problems, Victory On Stonestile!


Wed Chain Gang - Part Deux "Now this won't hurt a bit...."

"Gentlemen - and ladies, can I have your attention please?"

Colonel C 'J' Parker arrived in his staff car, dressed in 'civvies', and strode confidently to the front of his assembled platoon. He did an 'about turn' , clicked his heels, bent his elbow and tucked his 'swagger stick' under his arm pit.

"As you are aware the PRNB (Peoples Republic of Normans Bay), in a desperate attempt to hang on their newly declared independent state - bloody banana republic I call it , but never mind that - have adopted more aggressive tactics."

He unfurled an O.S map and hung it out in front of him.

"I wish to highlight two spots in particular that you will need to take particular care over on tonight's ride"

He punched the map with the end of his stick: "The first trouble spot is here: Capt. Mainwaring Way; formerly known as Herbrand Walk.  They have cluster-bombed the surface with thousands of pebbles making passing very hazardous.  The second spot is here"; he punched the map again. "Spooky Hill.  They have opened up the existing pot holes and made them more deeper and wider; again, making progress very difficult.  I hate to say this, but it is possible that not all of you will return".

Sergeant Major Grogan had been amusing himself by glaring at passers by in an attempt to get them to make eye contact with him.  Having got the eye contact he wanted he was then fully intimidating them with phrases like: "Who do you think your looking at - want some do you?", or "You what? - well come and have a go if you think you're hard enough!".

Having heard the Colonel's last remark he said - out of the corner of his mouth - to no one in particular:

"It's only cycling, silly old duffer thinks were going on a some kind of a bombing mission."

"Sorry Sergeant Major, did you say something?, asked the Colonel.

"Sorry, sir, I was just saying we need to maintain position", he replied.

"Quite, yes, good point; we need to maintain our positions, no erratic overtaking - especially now that it's light and we can't see car headlights.  Now, the first 'wave' to leave will be the 'Ultrons".

"It's Ultras, sir";

"Who said that?", asked the Colonel.

"I did, Lieutenant Smith, and we're known as the Ultras, not the Ultrons."

"Very good, right lets get going then.", said the Colonel.

The Ultras set off at a good pace.

"Right give the Ultrons a couple of minutes and then the rest of you lot form yourselves into some kind of order and chase after them", he orders.

He watched them leave and tapped his leg with his stick: "I should be with my men - damn this infernal shrapnel wound!"

Earlier....

"I can't believe you've eaten all of that pasta!", said Vicki

I'm standing side-on to the hall mirror and glancing down at the bowling ball in my stomach.

"Well you know I have to fast tonight, so I can't eat anything after cycling?", I replied.

"Yes, but you always seem to panic where food's concerned. You seem to suffer from 'delusions of hunger'.  I don't know why that is.  Don't you have a psychologist in your side now, you could ask him?", says Vicki.

"What the other Peter B; you're joking, I wouldn't take any notice of what he says - he's got real issues - you know he thinks he's his mother?.  And in any case he'll probably say the usual thing about being taken off the breast too early, you know what they're like?. Anyway, I don't think that applies to me, some people might think it was too soon, but as far as I'm concerned twelve was a perfectly normal age", I said.

"It's a prostrate test you're having isn't it?", asked Vicki.

"Yes, it's with that new doctor - Doctor Probe.  It's only supposed to be a blood test, but if he's in a 'playful' mood he might decide to do the 'Full  Monty'.", I said.

"Well, promise me you wont wear your 'party pants'; you know the one's with the elephant ears sewn into the side?", she said.
Ivan Had To Do A Solo Chain-gang

"Oh, I wouldn't do that - give me some credit!.  Oh, have you seen that rubber bone we bought Poppy for Christmas", I asked.

"I think it might be in her day bed, or in her chaise; why do you want that ?", she said with a puzzled expression.

"Well, you know?,I might want something to bite on.  I don't want to grind my teeth like Tyler Hamilton did in the 2003 Tour de France after he broke his collarbone - he had to have eleven of them capped!", I explained.

"Oh, for heavens sake! - don't make such a fuss", she said

"I'm not making a fuss it's just that I read about a case in America where a doctor was accused of using two fingers for a rectal examination - and believe it or not he got off!", I said.

"Oh, your joking how did he get off then?", she inquired.

"He said he wanted a second opinion; can you believe that?", I said.

"Look, why don't you just grow up? - you can be so childish!", she said angrily.

"I just hope he keeps his finger nails short!", I said

Friday 10 April 2015

8/4 Wednesday Chain Gang – Ripping up the tarmac

We obviously make quite an impressive spectacle when riding in a group. There were people filming us at two points on the ride – as we swept down Herbrand Walk to the sharp right turn, and again a bit further on in the twisty section of the marsh road – and others taking snaps as we whistled by.




And whistle by we certainly did! Conditions were very good last night with the warmth of the day still evident and a helpful east wind that did not overly hinder the homeward leg. I counted 30 riders at the start and others joined along the way, eager to make the most of a lovely evening, perhaps for the first time this year leaving the fleece-lined long trousers at home... The ultras made good speed on the outward leg and would have been faster still were it not for bothersome traffic lights at the De La Warr (why is it taking sooooo long?) and numerous traffic interruptions.

Pausing at the lights, we were aware that the next group would likely catch us. I looked round to see a mass of flashing front lights as they came past ‘The Italian Way’, but then the lights turned green and we were off again, eager to put some distance between us and the followers. The light wind at our backs was helpful without being too strong, making the pedalling pleasantly powerful and the pace brisk. Once clear of more messy traffic at the start of Western Parade, we increased the pace and rode in a tight group of 12 or so, holding a good line around South Cliff corner before powering up the slope, down the other side and on to Cooden Drive. I was riding behind Stuart Davis on his fluorescent orange bike, watching some doo-dad spinning on his rear hub. I decided that the bike was brighter than usual and the control panel on his handlebars must include a brightness dial, a theory later confirmed as he rode back to Bexhill in a pool of luminous orange light, his wheels floating an inch above the road as he engaged hyper-drive…

Traffic from the right split the group, but those of us who had made it through the turn waited for the others to re-join before accelerating again to the turns at the hotel – the left bend just before the short hill, then the 90 degree right and 90 degree left onto Herbrand. I gave Neil Shier some abuse at this point, for no particular reason other than it is good for him, and then hopped up out of the saddle to keep in with the main group. I was working hard but making good progress and a grin forced its way onto my face.

We were all eager at this point to up the pace further, but as warned by Major CJ Parker the road was quite badly covered with shingle, spat onto the road by cars that park at the top of the beach. Some made it through without losing speed, but I and others slowed down, the stones too numerous to avoid and potentially big enough to send your front wheel out from under you. Hazard negotiated, the group reformed and again built up speed. Even with this interruption, I was only one second off my personal record time for Herbrand. We were very much ‘on it’ last night, averaging 26mph along this stretch and pushing 30 mph in other spots.



On we sped, over the level-crossing, hacking around the bends and past the Star Inn, meeting more traffic as we rode to Normans Bay. The pace stayed high around the right hand bend and we flew up Spooky Hill, in stark contrast to many of my efforts over the winter. I stayed with the group up the hill and down the other side, hanging onto the tail of the group by the time we got to the bends by the nature reserve, but hang on I did with some space only opening as we got near the final straight. I think I saw two go off the front and the others gave chase, but I was happy to ease past one rider and make claim that I have, finally, ridden the whole outward leg with the ultras. Hurrah!

The return leg began in a straggly manner with a few riders heading off early and a few giving chase, me included. I became aware of a rider following close behind me, grunting and growling. I admit I was a little disconcerted, but I rode on, trying hard to reach the group ahead. The ultras-proper swept by – sleek, slick and swift – so my grunting companion and I tagged on. The effort required drew more grunts from him behind, some snarls and an expletive too. Aha! I recognised the native tongue of a Normans Bay resident. It could only be Peter B, clearly meaning business as he thrashed his pedals harder and harder, determined to stay with the big-boys. Alas, neither he nor I could keep up beyond the top of Spooky Hill – my legs were 90% lactic acid after the outward leg, and Peter’s legs were, well, feeling their age shall we say?

But no matter, we rode a good two-up back across the marshes and back to the sea, passing John V fixing a puncture. I glanced behind at the end of Herbrand Walk and saw a group of wobbling, flashing front lights coming closer. As Peter and I rode up the Cooden Corner slope I tried to warn him:

“The pack is gaining Peter!”

“Whaaarrrrr?” he roared (clearly not wearing his hearing aid last night).

“THE PACK IS GAINING PETER!” I bellowed.

“AAArrrr? Snaaarrrr! Bleeerrrrrraaaarrrrrgghhh!” (no translation available).

I upped the pace, hoping to lose Peter as he was obviously undergoing some sort of transformation, like Harry H Corbett in ‘Carry on Screaming’. What did he have in his water bottle? But he was hanging on like a limpet, riding in a deranged and manic manner; I could not shake him.
Nick Feeling Fit After Paris Ride last Week 

Salvation came as the following group caught us and a very polite gentleman on a nice powder-blue steel-framed bicycle took us in hand and disciplined the group. I think we were seven in all, including the excellent Tom Norris on the Bianchi Bomber. We rotated up and down the Cooden Bump, the speed rising all the while, and with Peter still very much in the mix. Tom hit the front and went for it, chin on the stem, legs pumping furiously. But I was tucked in behind and feeling strong, waiting for the right moment to pounce and beat him to the lights. Half a kilometre out I made my move, flicking to the right and powering through, spinning the cranks as fast as I could. Tom let out his war-cry, Peter howled like a werewolf and I pressed on harder lest either of them caught me.

Pulling in to the kerb in a controlled and calm manner, Tom and I shook hands after a hard-fought ride. Peter was on the pavement, coughing and spluttering as the effects of his potion wore off and he returned to ‘normal’. I waved nervously and his eyes registered dim recognition. He would be alright.

“Good ride Peter?” I enquired.

“Oh yes, splendid, thank you, really spiffing. I’ve got my bestest wheels on the bike tonight and I gave the tubes a jolly good polish before I came out” he gushed.

I smiled nervously, not really sure which Peter I preferred. Tom, Neil S, Ruth and I shepherded him home and waved him off near the entrance to his cave, his little face aglow with the pride of his achievements. Well done Peter!

Neil Smith (yes really this week – I didn’t ride the chain gang last week…).


Monday 6 April 2015

5/4 Mayfield Mayhem- Spring Special

Super Turnout For The First Spring Special!
We had surprisingly good turnout of riders for the first of the 'Spring Specials'. These specials are deliberately mapped to be as hilly as possible and involve riding out of our usual area so that we get a chance to ride some unusual lanes and hills.This one was a new one that I had partly based on a sportive I had found, would it live up to the standard of the others?

The ride officially began at Robertsbridge rail station but some of the fitter riders such as JV and Simon G deciding to ride out to the start . I was very impressed with their pacing as at exactly 8:00  all ten of us were assembled and ready to go.

The pace was a little faster than I was used to and left me hanging off the back of the group. Determined not to let the others down I pushed myself a bit harder than normal (which gave me a headache) but was confident that my stamina would see me through.

Of all the rides in my collection, this one has the second  highest ascent per mile (106 leg breaker ) being beaten only by the Mad Jack Audax. The sequenced of named hills kept coming straight away, so that within 9 miles we had gone from near 90 feet to 500 feet of altitude. One early hill that particularly stood out was Blackdon hill with its 0.7 mile climb and constant 7% gradient. Around this time Simon picked up a puncture, Simon G and John M went to his assistance and told the rest of us to press on as they would now be breaking away to get back home to Bexhill.

You Are never Too Hard Core To refuse Icecream!
Now that our group size had shrunk somewhat, the pace seemed to ease a little and for a while the riding was bit easier as we rode on across the undulating landscape, gradually losing height as we headed into Ashdown forest. Looking at the hill profile on my Garmin I knew we were approaching the biggest hill of all, the one which would take us up to 'Kings Standing' . This is the highest point of Ashdown forest and we normally reach it via Kid's hill (known locally as 'the wall') this time we would get there by the gentler Chuck' hatch road.This turned out to be a wonderful 2.4 mile climb at a steady 4% gradient. The road surface was smooth and we were bathed in sunshine all the way up. Despite being the  last man to arrive at the top, I congratulated myself for not being too far behind and treated myself to a Mr Wippy to celebrate.

What goes up must come down and with gravity on my side the next few miles were exhilarating as  we descended mile after mile of fine roads before once again reaching more undulating terrain around Fairwrap. I felt much the same as I had at the start of the ride but was no longer the lantern rouge  as Hight began to struggle on the hills.

The riders were getting peckish but I had not planned out any cafe stops, and JV had to get home by 2:00, so the only food break we had was at the lovely village of Mayfield where a local store provided a few Mars bars to replenish blood sugars. This gave me a chance to check my phone and see if there were any messages from Nigel who was attempting to intercept us somewhere on route (fresh from a two up TT). Unfortunately it looked like he was only at Fairwrap so it was unlikely he would managed to catch us up before the end.

leaving Mayfield only one last obstacle remained, a large climb between Burwash and Brightling. Following a bout of digging the day before, John S had had trouble with back pain all day but he was now really suffering and had lost all strength in his legs. Somehow he managed to keep going but only just made it up to the top of Brightling. From here the profile looked like it would be downhill all the way back to Robertbridge.Many times in the past we have said this only to find one or two nasty hills we had forgotten about, but this time it really was true and we gracefully flew all the way down the last three miles back to the start.

John's back was so bad he gratefully accepted my offer of a lift in my mpv back home rather than ride back with JV and the other mile munchers. While newbie member Patrick decided to do the opposite. Despite riding the Friday night ride, the pre BBR and the BBR , Patrick decided a few extra miles would be good and so would ride back with JV. Looks like the mile munchers have gained another acolyte!

Everyone agreed, this route deserved its status as a Spring Special as the landscape was really interesting on excellent super quiet roads.

The next Spring Special will be the 'Hell Of Ashdown on Sunday May 3rd.

Steve C