Wednesday Chain Gang - Cannonball Ride

 We've had the rain, we've had the wind, and we've had the rain and the wind. Last night it was the turn of the cold, thankfully without the company of any other unpleasant weather condition, or so we thought! Whilst putting on my usual chain gang gear, I noticed the temperature had dropped from 9 degrees at 14:00 to 2.8 degrees at 19:00. At that rate, it would be -2 degrees by midnight! I took off my kit and put on my long bib tights, dug out my neoprene overshoes and a thicker undershirt.

Keri back to riding after Illness!

There were 17 riders ready to 'lay down some rubber' last night - a good turnout, I thought. We were in a chatty mood and before we knew it, it was time for the off, riding out as one group. The chat on my arrival had been about my new 'steed'. Lord Buckland was not impressed, feigning injury when he tried to lift it. Huh! The most excellent Stuart Hodd commented that it didn't so much ride over bumps in the road as flatten them, christening my new pride and joy 'the Cannonball'. I much prefer that to 'Sparkles', the name my daughters want to use, but I'm not sure the bike is THAT heavy at 9.3kg.

Rare appearance from Konrad!

The pace was reasonable as we started to rotate along Bexhill front, having continued a fair amount of chat and banter as we warmed up. Hauling the Cannonball up South Cliff, I realised that even small amounts of extra weight require extra effort. I resolved to lose the weight difference between my Giant racer and the Cannonball from my belly; so that's about 1.5kg to find. I'll make a pledge, here and now, to lose 3kg, I'm just not sure by when. I'm 12st 6lbs now, so I need to get below 12st, if you'll forgive me mixing my metrics.

Having dropped back slightly on the slope, I caught the group up on the descent, staying with them along Cooden. There were perhaps 10 of us at this stage, the others having dropped back into smaller groups. It was cold, but not unpleasant, as we rolled first right at the Cooden Hotel and then left onto Herbrand Walk. But what was this? The road was wet - not just a bit damp, but bloody soaking. We were soon showered in spray from the bikes around us, as we rode on rather bemused at the amount of water that had come, as if from nowhere (Steve 'Gadget' Ferguson later confirmed, via his bar-mounted weather station, that the water had fallen as rain from the sky. Thanks Steve).

I was feeling a pleased with myself at this stage, as I was hanging on with the ultras and feeling reasonably comfortable with the pace. Regular readers will know though that, at this point, the spectre of Spooky Hill looms large... We rattled onward through the twisty section of lane before the Star Inn, jinking left and right over the narrow bridge and racing on towards Normans Bay. I prepared myself mentally for the challenge I knew lay ahead, making sure that, for once, I avoided being at the front of the group as we hit the hill.

This part of the plan went well. I was riding down the outside behind Steve Butcher (I think), who waved riders around him. I found I had it in my legs to make the leap, so I got out of the saddle, rode around him and kept up with the group - well, mostly. I found myself just 10m off, but made it back as we whizzed down the west slope. We swept right at the base, pelting towards the tight left-hander in a fairly loose group. It was my turn to take the front, and this time it was that bit harder to get down the outside and keep the pace up. That effort cooked me and I was eventually dropped about 1km from the roundabout. I do not think the front group was as fast as usual, or as smooth, as the less strong riders slowed things after getting to the front. But I for one learnt a bit more about riding at pace in a tight group and I really enjoyed the outward leg.

The steam rises at the Pevensey turnaround!

We arrived at the roundabout in dribs and drabs, before turning back to Bexhill at a higher pace, with the light wind behind us. I managed another couple of turns on the front before going into reverse on the west side of Spooky. I was happy enough with that - the Cannonball has proved itself a strong pedalling platform that is no slower on the flat than my Giant TCR, but it is clearly a bit heavy on the hills. I guess that is what you want from a winter or training bike. I'll shut up about the bike now (probably).

I rode on, rolling in a heavy, cast-iron way (like a, well, cannonball, I suppose) across Herbrand Walk, aware that there were bright lights behind me, most probably from other riders. I was eventually caught on Cooden Drive by Malc D and Simon G, both pulling strongly. I managed to tag on and we pressed on to the lights, rotating a few times along the way, Simon putting on a spurt to arrive before me and Malc.

I rode back to the Pevensey roundabout with Mike Howard and Steve Gadget, having dropped Lord Buckland with his butler at Cooden ('m'lud looks rather warm - shall I bring you a chilled serving girl?'). Peter Van (you remember, that bloke from Normans Bay with blond hair, or was it brown..?) no longer requires an escort home as his Matron has whisked him away to France for some winter sun and therapeutic enemas.

My second ride to Bexhill on the night was in the company of 'The Gadget', me having persuaded him to do a double-ration of the chain gang to get some more miles under his gadget belt. Well now, wouldn't you know it - just as we reached the top of Spooky, his front light suddenly went out - poof! We pulled over by Rock Cottage.

"I might have a spare light in the back", Steve said.

He opened up the gadget bag that hangs heavy from the back of his saddle, like a large pair of ram's bollocks. He unzipped the rear flap to reveal a treasure trove of equipment, enough to service a small family car, with little worker-elves hiding in the corners, a blacksmith's forge at the back (that explains the smoke), a range of zip ties, a hammer and some nails, a cuddly toy, a fondu set, some suitcases... But no front light.

"What are you going to do Steve?" I asked.

"I'm going to borrow your light" said Steve, an air of menace in his voice.

I handed over my spare (note that Steve, a *spare* front light) and we rode on. The moon was bright and I did my usual trick of turning off my front light along Herbrand and riding by its silvery shine.

"What are you doing?!?" said Steve, more than a hint of panic in his voice.

"Travelling by moonlight, matey, it's all the rage".

A car promptly spoilt my fun and we rode on, thinking now about food, hot baths and dry clothes. A night of damn fine chain-ganging had been had by all. See you all next week, unless I see you at 07:45 on Saturday, at Normans Bay, for the pre-BBR ride to Beachy Head.

Safe riding, Neil