I do so like a following wind – it makes me feel like a half-way competent cyclist, adding the power I lack to my fast spinning legs. I felt strong, perhaps benefitting at last from a couple of weeks riding my considerably heavier Cannondale poor-weather bike. Babs said he was not riding on the front, so I did, feeling eager and energetic. I tore along Bexhill front and the Ultras were soon in view. ‘We’re not trying to catch them, are we?’ asked Simon G, and I thought ‘why not?’
Other riders soon caught up and we formed a reasonable group of ten riders that dwindled after Spooky Hill to six or seven. The group riding was a bit untidy, in part because of the wind, but also because I was pushing it, content to ride alone if need be, giving in to selfish impulses to ride fast and hard to the roundabout. Others were also putting in hard shifts – JV, Malc D, Steve B, Gareth to name a few. After Spooky, JV pulled away and I overtook Malc as we seesawed back and forth in the loose group. In the end, we came in close behind the Ultras and maybe some of us should have ridden with them.
Strava tells me this was the fastest I had ridden the outward leg of the chain gang, and it felt like it – I was coughing my lungs up, retching on phlegm – ‘orrible! Everyone else seemed ok, but they are much, much younger than me. Or maybe I was retching because Gareth and Lord B were discussing the American ‘bottom-touching’ hand signal and when best to use it. The fundamental mistake they (knowingly) make is touching other people’s behinds, instead of their own. I can’t remember what it’s supposed to mean, so let’s drop it – if you want to pat your arse, fine, just leave mine alone. I thank ewe.
The return leg started as usual with a vague sort of trickle of riders easing away from the layby. The Ultras formed up quickly and were quickly gone into the dark night, lights flashing and scattering wildlife. I fell in behind JV, both of us working hard into that now unwelcome wind that we had so enjoyed on the way out. We rotated the front every dozen or so pedal strokes and were surprised to find it was just us – no one else was in sight. This changed near the foot of Spooky as others arrived, taking the front and pulling us with them.
Fighting a head wind encourages cooperation more than anything else, I think. We rode well as a group, with those that could take a turn at the front doing so, whilst others clung to the back of the group. ‘Tis fair enough, for the most part – those that can, do, and others do the best they can.
On we rumbled, past the Star Inn, flicking around the curves to Herbrand and then onto Cooden Drive. I pushed hard up the first slope, then Steve B went past with the others in tow. We all rested in position for a stretch before restarting the rotation, pulling forcefully up and over the ‘Cooden Bump’, having earlier saluted ‘El Presidente’ as he stood at the roadside. The pace remained high as we came down the east side of the Bump and pushed hard to the lights. Tom and I found ourselves boxed in, both eager to take part in the impending man-off between Lord B, Gareth and others.
Well, they got away, leaving Tom and me to test each other on the run in. We were neck and neck, but Tom’s beardy face provided that extra bit of wind resistance and I won by a whisker (Get it? Beard – whisker? Ha-ha!)
Lord B was keen to get home (‘I’ve got servants to beat, don’t you know?’), so I turned west with him and his Battle acolyte, Adam, to ride back along Cooden Drive. Others sought refreshment at Rocksalt, eating cheesy chips washed down with lemonade, orange juice etc., whilst the more dedicated athletes amongst us continued to hone our bodies on the hard anvil of extreme effort. What’s the point of taking lard off and then putting it straight back on again, eh? Anyway, us vegans don’t eat artery-clogging cheese.
I enjoyed another wind-fuelled ride to Pevensey, trying hard not to think about the slog back to Bexhill, this time alone into the wind. It was ok, ducking as low as I could and enjoying the burn in my legs. It was at least dry and warm, so all in all a good night for a fast and demanding chain gang – just the way it should be.
It’s worth mentioning at this point a hazard between Normans Bay level crossing and the Star Inn, riding west to east, towards Bexhill. To the left is a strip of concrete that runs for 100m or so, maybe 40cm wide, partly covered with tarmac. There is a channel between the concrete and the main road surface, the perfect width to grab your front wheel and spit you off your beloved carbon masterpiece. The hazard is naturally harder to see in the dark, so can we all ride a little wider on this stretch and give riders to our left more space? One rider came off last week and he was lucky to escape with bruising. No-one’s fault, but do please be aware as also, speeds tend to be high on this stretch.
The club is having an Xmas lunch this Saturday at Di Paulos, for which you should have seen several emails. If you’ve booked, please be there as the food will be waiting for you… There will be a pre-BBR to Beachy, then a choice of rides for the BBR, from a run of c30km to a faster ride of 50km or so. Arrive at Di Paulos from 12:30 onwards to eat at 13:00. You can, of course, just come for the rides.
Patrick ‘he who calls the tune, pays the…’ Piper will soon be chasing you for your club membership fee. You will, of course, have put aside a little each week since last December to cover this vast expense. Time now to dig out the money from under the floorboards and place it in Patrick’s grateful hands. Lord B has said he will give a free glass of champers to the first ten members to pay, so there’s an exciting incentive for you; he might even stretch to a slice of pheasant pie, served hot and fresh by Doris.
Safe riding, Neil
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