Riding south to the sea front down Sackville Road was ‘interesting’, especially near the roundabout. The ride east to Galley Hill was also ‘interesting’ with the wind veering and spinning off the buildings and out of the side roads. In truth, not the worst wind I’ve ridden in but nevertheless conditions were, well, ‘interesting’. In all, 14 other intrepid cyclonauts gathered, looking rather dazed by their ride to the start.
Just how bad do conditions have to be before we say ‘nah, staying in tonight’? I can barely bring myself to write it, let alone do it! ‘Addicts’ say some; ‘madmen’ say others (wives, kids, relatives, non-cycling friends, bosses, psychiatrists, the Daily Mail – the list goes on… They’re all wrong! They know nothing, NOTHING!! We want the challenge, the fresh air, the exercise, the banter and the thrill surviving a ride on a grotty winter’s night. You can’t get that from the telly.
Well, some good sense prevailed. Chris proposed riding circuits around a 5km loop in Cooden, rather than risking the dark, damp and potentially dangerous lanes of the marshes. To this we all agreed, or so I thought! However, it appears some were paying more attention than others to what the club secretary had to say
Off we rode, two abreast, the quite wonderful Stuart Hodd and awesome Barney Willard up front, Malcolm and I next and then the others – I didn’t dare look behind in the conditions but there were definitely riders behind me at that point…
We rode along Bexhill front, never more nervous than when the air around us went still, as we knew it was just drawing breath to hit us hard from some unexpected direction, grabbing our wheels, lifting our helmets, exploding in our ears. No South Cliff tonight, but instead we followed the road to the crossroads with Cooden Drive, then straight on under the railway bridge on Westcourt Drive. For this brief stretch we had the wind behind us before turning left along Birkdale for a long upward and windy drag that winds right and left on its way through Cooden bungalow-land.
Stuart, Barney and Malcolm left me at this point, and Ruth, Neil S (the other Neil S), Alex and another (?) went past me too, leaving me to ride solo laps. I looked behind at the high point on Birkdale to check for the others but saw no-one. Curious, I thought. Anyhow, I pressed on downhill to Cooden Sea Road, turning left and uphill again, and then turning at the top to be hit full-force in the face by the wind. Bloody Hell it was strong and gusty, but before long the route dropped bumpily down to Cooden Station, the gradient giving me a helping hand. The road levels out just before the railway bridge, the side walls of which acted as a funnel, increasing the strength of the wind from there to the left turn at the Cooden Hotel. Head down, teeth gritted, pressing hard and waiting to make the turn and feel the wind shove at my back rather than pushing at my front. Aaaarrrggghhh!
At this point, four or five riders going in the other direction passed me. I recognised Simon G. What was he doing? I decided they must have been riding the loop in reverse, perhaps having lost touch with the group as we set out. I weighed up in my mind which direction the loop might be toughest in, but decided there would be nothing in it. I would see them in another half a lap and give them some friendly abuse. That was something to look forward to!
But first there was a nice long wind-assisted sprint along Cooden Drive to enjoy; although I thought the wind was not as helpful as it might have been, coming increasingly from the south rather than the traditional chain gang southwest. Humph! I was soon at the left turn for Westcourt Drive and lap two, completed without seeing Simon G and Co. Just where in the world were they?
On my fourth lap ‘El Presidente’ was out on Cooden Drive, directing me to ride straight on, by which I understood that the loopy laps were done for the night. I enjoyed that route for a change, a varied 5km loop that’s worth riding again. It has a good mix of straights, turns and rises. Two laps would make a great 10km TT, I thought, either officially or for training purposes. Some good times ought to be possible in better conditions. The ‘Cooden Classic’ perhaps?
At the lights, we were reunited with the super-fasts, and then soon with Simon G and his band of rebels who had ridden the usual chain gang route after all. ‘Where were you?’ I asked Tom Norris. ‘Did the normal route, wasn’t listening when you decided to do the loops.’ And there you have it – on such small things are fortunes won or lost, disasters met or averted and heroes born or destroyed. Tonight, some of us did loops and others did the usual route.
Now, this meant that I HAD to ride back with Tom, otherwise he would have ridden Herbrand in a gale and I would not! That would not do and anyhow he might have an accident, and he needs help into the wind what with being so small, with that dodgy bottom-bracket and clicking knees, mild dementia
Herbrand! My goodness – the wind was strengthening and turning more southerly, becoming a solid blast, racing up the shingle to smack us on our left side. Speech was impossible, but at least the wind was constant rather than gusting. Just lean to the left and keep pedalling – easy!
After an age we made the relative shelter of the sea defences, before turning for the level crossing and riding a little more with the wind than against it. The rain started, whipped across the fields to sting our faces and blow through our thin, cold lycra. Just-Keep-Going. Up Spooky Hill together and I had gone far enough. I waved Tom on his way, trusting he would get home in one piece, and turned my wheel across the wind toward Bexhill, knowing the worst was done and I could speed home. What a buzz – a great chain gang ride, if not quite the usual recipe.
Regards, Neil
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