leaving Bexhill our faces were shotblasted by spiky balls of ice . . . chaingang of Belgian proportion 3/4/13

Flurries of snowflakes  danced up the street as I set off, keen to burn off some Easter chocolate and break the seal on zero miles for nearly two weeks. Good rest is just as crucial as hard efforts, think about it.  Actually I was feeling crap with a bit of a cold, anyway as snow increased I wasn't about to turn back, partly from  sheer momentum of 20 minutes spent getting ready,  whatsmore the forecast said no snow, ergo, this snow was surely a mistake and must soon stop, the phone weather app said so. The evidence of my eyes contradicted; a looming great dark gray cloud blotted out the western sky.  Along the seafront Joggers , pedestrians scurrying for shelter,  all stared at me as I passed by , I grinned back - they couldn't believe what they were seeing - a man - on a racing bike - in the snow? 

At the meet we chatted about new bikes, the Paris Roubaix and I kept an eye out for a mooted guest appearance of a certain local TT ace  but given the inclemency I was surprised that anyone came out at all.  In fact we had a very good turnout - a half dozen or so of our amigos came west from  Eastbourne and surrounds , and another dozen or so from the usual places. Hastings own fitter than a butchers dog er, hard man Matt R seemed to be doing most of the  pace making. Speaking of which, I shudder to think the hours I've sliced off my life whizzing my heart to the limit, just to hang in the wheels of stronger riders, such is the lot of a wily old wolf with one maybe, two half decent sprints left in him. Anyway -as we left Bexhill, a blast of sleet opened up in our faces, temporarily blinding those with no eye protection and fogging those with. Someone cried out in pain and for a split second as we all slowed  in reaction to this barrage I thought we'd stop, but no, a new brave soul went on the front and we rode through, sometimes its the best thing to do with storms. It was ragged for a while, but as we squinted and slowly became numbed by this icy assault, easing right up on the slippery corners with a thin layer of slush, then cranking up the pace again. As we got a strong rhythm going I heard experienced road racer Shaun R shout with a smile "Looking Good !" and then exclaim appropriately  "just like BELGIUM!" and he was spot on - Belgians are the primo cycling hardmen, all cobbles and mud and pain and sleet and storms as any fule kno.


Chaingang chief Steve C was good to his word and filmed us ascending Spooky Hill, how he didn't freeze to the spot I dont know! Putting on some speed for Steve I blew myself  up seconds  later  and was dropped by Matt and the others. Soon Nick W came along tho' pulling a  small group and I sat in grateful for a tow. Nick's face, eyes blitzed,  ice dripping off his chin, no goggles, was a grim, grainy black and white picture, straight out of the Belgian book of pain.

 We said goodbye to our western friends and return journey was more of the same, this time I stayed on Matt's wheel when he went off the front,  Stuart H and a small group worked together effectively chasing.  More Belgians trooped in in twos and threes.

See you all next week for more adventures.

chris w