23rd Jan Chaingang; cold, drizzly, lorra' lorra' potholes

It's been two weeks since my last ride, so i was keen to get out to limit the loss of what scraps of form I'd saved over Xmas. The forecast looked promising, one degree above freezing, no black ice then, not even the soft crunchy kind that eight dextrous Eskimos  skated  across last week. After half an hour of getting ready running up and down stairs for warm layers, gloves , shoes, overshoes, hat, lid, hiviz vest, phone, phone sock,  pumping tyres up -  I open the door and am met with a soup, no a wall of steady drizzle, just a smidgeon warmer than freezing, not ice, not sleet, but quick running silvery icy drizzle - imagine  a million dripping cold taps.  Lets allow a degree of exaggeration and call it soft ice . . . liquid ice maybe. 

Well it'll probably dry up  in five minutes, I say to myself, too late to stop now, might as well get on with it. A welcome tail wind  and I arrive at the hut on time for a change. Eleven riders have turned out from a ten mile radius - spiritual Belgians to a man - all happy to be out. 

The ice has melted to reveal some new potholes, and some old favourites have expanded.  But best of all the highways agency have scraped off the road surface of the last hundred yards of Bexhill seafront, exposing little drain covers, now  cast iron towers of  sharp cornered evil,  all but invisible in the spray and mirk. After three or four direct hits, my wheels should have been square, so I must be very lucky,  and thank Max Norrell  for building me some very strong 36 spoked wheels.  the latex tube I put in the front after my last pothole pinch puncture might be helping too - the last hole I hit bounced my tail lamp loose - but the old steel fixed soaked it all up, without a complaint. I endo'ed it into a ditch last year, and rode away after straightening the bars -  a lighter weight machine would surely have snapped its forks.

With that tailwind I closed a gap and  hung on to a fast group of four but finally ran out of spin and dropped off before  Spooky Hill. John C punctured in the big pothole on top of the hill, same one that got me a month ago. Only Chris P stopped to help so both missed the blurry phone photo.

As cold and rain soaked in from the feet up - its the first time I've felt cold on the bike all year. However the bunch was in good spirits and enjoyed a strong finish. 

See you for a drink at the Club AGM, Carlisle Pub, Hastings Seafront, Monday Jan 28th, 7:30pm