Slumped over the bars, whilst crawling up Beachy Head via 'The Backdoor' (Seven Sisters), I had time to consider whether the double sausage, double egg, congealed beans and two slices of toast was the best way of fueling a long ride - I don't expect Chris Froome's musette contains a sausage sarnie or a pork pie - although I'm sure he would enjoy it.. I cast a downward look at my orange spotted white socks, "King of The Mountain? - I don't t think so, not today anyway". Mal C was the last person to overtake me and he offered me a cheery:
'Hi Pete, you o.k?'
'Yes I'm fine thank you', I replied.
Actually I felt like sh*t, but what's the point of spoiling someone's schadenfreude moment. This is one of my most favourite words and I have used it in blogs before - and even encouraged Neil Smith to use it one of his. For those who have forgotten, or who have not heard it before it is a German word meaning: getting pleasure from someone else's misfortune (it was a word that probably arose in the 1970s when lounging on their sunbeds they were able to look around and see us Brits settling for the shady part of the pool area because we didn't get up at 5am to lay out out towels! - as far as I know we don't have any German members of the club, but please correct me if I'm wrong.) None of us in the club are horrible people, in fact I think we are all jolly nice, but lets face it we all like to 'score points' on a ride. It feels great to ease past someone on a mega climb, and hear their laboured breathing, or cursing. This is often accompanied, in my case anyway, by thoughts like 'I may be a slow, sad old, b*stard , but I'm obviously in just a little bit better shape than you today!'
I pushed on whilst trying to decide between swigging the last few millimeters of warm orange squash in my bottle or having it by way of celebration after finishing the p*xy climb. Eventually I reached the toilets at the top and spotted the 'roach coach' (ice cream van). I could have joined the others in the pub, but as I was 'needed' back home I was short on time.
"I'll have a can of coke please, is it cold?" (silly question really.)
"Not really - that's £1:40 please"
Thought bubble: "£1:40 for a warm coke?, well you can shove that up your a*se then"
Actual reply: "Thanks"
I immediately decanter-ed it into my bottle and took a long, deep, 'slug'. Wow, it tasted great!. It was probably one of the nicest drinks I can remember - apart from the cup of instant tea that we brewed at the top of Scarfel whilst attempting the 'Three Peaks Challenge' - twenty three years ago:
Lake District - June 1992
'Is it much further to the top, Matt, I'm hurting now", I asked
I was leaning with my back and head pressed against a rock and my arms dangling limply at my side.
He was squinting at a map using a red head lamp.
"I've got some good news and some bad news, chaps, which do you want first", he said.
Matt is one of those RAF chappies - stiff upper lip and all that, and is the only remaining friend from my I.T. days. He came to Scott Limited for a 'few months' before joining the RAF to fly jets, and somehow never left.
"I'll have the good news first", I said
It was 3 am and our second night without sleep and I wasn't sure I could handle bad news.
"We're nearly at the summit", he said, without much cheerfulness.
"Great, what's the bad news?"
"This is the wrong mountain, this is Scarfell, unfortunately that's Scarfell Pike over there"
He pointed to the peak of the 'correct' mountain; it's top clearly visible in the moonlight across Mickeldore Col - the valley that separates the two. Only 47 feet higher than Scafell but the one you must climb as part of the Three Peaks Challenge - not its slightly shorter neighbour.
"Well, we could keep quiet about it, I suggested, who's going to know?"
"It's not really 'cricket' is it?, I tell you what, I'll make us all a nice cup of tea, that'll cheer us all up."
With that he pulled a primus stove and a jar of instant tea from his rucksack and set about the task. One tin mug between two, but it was so reviving and really lifted our spirits. I surveyed the scene in front of me: the moon was reflected in the lakes with the mountains silhouetted behind and beyond that the Irish sea sparkled. A scene I will never forget.
I digress....forgive my self-indulgence.
I arrived home feeling a lot better, so much so that I even called into the bakery in Pevensey Bay and picked up a couple of cream slices.
"How did it go then, sweetie?", said Vicki.
"Well, O.K , but I must admit I've just had a 'bonk'"
"I beg your pardon - you had a 'bonk?' - bearing in mind that we're getting married soon you'd better explain yourself!"
"Oh, no, don't worry, it's just a cycling term meaning you've run out of fuel"
"Well, that's a bit silly, didn't you haven't anything to eat then?"
"Oh, yes, double sausage, double egg, congealed beans and two slices of toast"
"Well I hardly think you ran out of fuel then, it sounds like dehydration", said Vicki; who knows a lot more things than I do.
It all made sense: the fierce thirst, the cloudy pee, no energy. I settled down onto the sun longer, with my cream slice for an afternoons serious sunbathing and reflected on the day's events.
Normans Bay Border Crossing 08:00
"I'm doing a hundred mile ride today and if you don't let me across to meet up with those guys over there I'm going to miss it"
The barrier wasn't working and I was pleading with engineer to let me hop over the barrier (a common practice before the crossing became automated). I always think it pays to exaggerate but he wasn't having any of it. Mal C appeared at the other side of the crossing.
"Why don't you go via Pevensey?", he said
"Oh, O.K, I'll meet you at the roundabout", I replied
It was another good turnout - ten of us, I think; It was great to see some 'faces' I hadn't seen for a while - Paul, I concluded' must have gone AWOL from his domestic duties as I haven't seem him on a Saturday for quite a while.. After only about five minutes, just after Chilley farm, I took a tumble.
"What happened?" said Patrick with a concerned look.
"I'm not really sure, I think I hit a branch - but it definitely wasn't 'rider error'", I replied.
A few more of the group rallied around.
"I saw it happen", said Duncan
"Oh, in that case you'll know it wasn't 'rider error', I think there was something in my way"
The assembled group looked back up the road for signs of an object that could have brought me down. There was nothing apparent, but they were all too polite to question my supposition. It is a great comfort to know that when riding in a group there are always people to help out when you get into difficulties. The rear gear cable had slipped off its housing and several tools were proffered. Steve D set about fixing the problem with some assistance from the others. We set off again at quite a lively pace and as there isn't much in the way of climbing until Ditchling Beacon we were all able to have a bit of a chat among ourselves for a lot of the way. I hadn't seen Steve B for a while and it was interesting to have a chat with him about his forthcoming PBP:
"You do realise it's quite a long way Steve, don't you?"
"I've done London Edinburgh London, so it's not too bad"
"Are you doing it on that bike?", I pointed at his Giant Defy
"I might do it on a 'fixie'"
It was at this point that I realised he was totally 'barking'.
"I've just seen someone I know Steve, see you later"
There is a moment of deja vu on these pre BBR Brighton specials and it when we are just about to start down the 'Cookoo Trail': Steve C without fail wants to go right instead of left and then always asks me which is the correct way. I find this immensely satisfying because it confirms to me that when his navigational aids let him down he is as 'geolexic' as me (well, almost!.)
For some reason I spent a lot of the ride being distracted by Steve D's Heinz Beanz jersey - subtle it ain't, but I sort of admire him for wearing it - and it did have the effect of getting me in the mood for some beans. People were starting to raise the question of breakfast and at a place not from from Ditchling (the name escapes me) we pulled over at a tea room. My heart sunk at the prospect because it was unlikely that I would get any beans here let alone any eggs or bacon.
I let Steve know of my concerns and he decided to put it to a vote: Brighton University, for a fry-up, or here for a bit of carrot cake. Unsurprisingly, the vote went in favour of the Uni and we pushed on.
Brighton Uni cafeteria is ideally placed at the end of the downhill section following Ditchling and I find this quite motivating. On the way to the big climb we started to spread out a bit and on arriving at the foot of it we realised there was no sign of Patrick, Steve C and Mal C. - It turned out that Steve C had a puncture and the others had assisted him. We set off as a group and Steve C was giving some advice to Steve B about what was ahead:
"It's just like a big helter skelter and it's great fun!" he then seemed to get a bit over excited: "weeeee, weeeee look at me go!."
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| Our First Major Climb! (Ditchling Beacon) |
"I just sort of got stuck in", he said
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| The Food Of Champions! |
I had decided that I was having them however disgusting they looked and I was quite surprised that when we sat down outside with our trays I noted that the only other person having them was Steve D!
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| We Love Brighton Uni Cafeteria |
"This is all very Dad's Army"
"Yes, I agree; with a touch of 'Last of The Summer Wine', thrown in for good measure'
What a shambles!. Some of us went one way, others went another way, some waited for the lights to turn green other just went anyway. A lycra clad, bunch of misfits if ever I've seen one.
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| Quick breather And Reassembly Before Beachy! |
"Let's all go at our own pace and see who gets to the pub at the top of Beachy first."
It was shortly after this that I 'bonked' and crawled up Beachy at a snail's pace.
As usual, a great social ride,with just the right amount of challenge - well done to Steve C for organising it.
Peter Buss
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