20/12 BBR Brighton Special - Battling the Wind and the Hills

Chaotic Laurel and hardy start for Neil!

It didn't start very well. One of my regular 'chaos bubbles' descended on Sunday morning. I spilled a pint of tea on the landing carpet, then blocked the toilet. Whilst checking my tyres, I deflated one, instead of inflating it, then dropped the bike, then my water bottles, then my money and phone... It was like Laurel and Hardy, one of those days when I'd find fluency only on the bike. Thank the Lord for Cannondale and cycling.

 My emergency plumbing works made me slightly late for the departure, and I arrived to find ten riders all ready for the off, waiting in the faint light of a cloudy winter dawn. I think they were: Peter Buss, Steve C, Stewart B, John V, Paul, Tom N, Simon G, Patrick P, Malc C, myself and Gareth P. Others had given their apologies, among them Peter Baker (Athens) and Matt S (yes, what WAS your excuse Matt?).

Threatening grey skies but thankfully no rain!

The route took us across Rickney Marsh to the Hailsham Road, then up to the Cuckoo Trail to take us to the Horsebridge Road. John V and Gareth took a detour at this point to avoid what JV was convinced would be terrible roads. He explained his route twice to me, but I still don't understand it - something about a bridge, a castle and the main road. Anyhow, we made steady progress northwards, riding around the usual early morning dog walkers, but not seeing any other cyclists.

We turned west off the Cuckoo Trail toward the Boship roundabout (awash with traffic cops), then rode through the Dickers, before turning off and entering the strangely flat and featureless area in and around Arlington. The roads are mostly straight, but with random 90 degree turns. You're never quite sure if you've taken the correct turn and, somehow, I always feel I could get lost for a week in the narrow lanes there.

The first and only puncture fell to Peter Buss, on the road to Lewes. After what seemed like three hours, he was ready to roll, having had trouble with his gas cylinder. He then told me off for not being there to help. Outrageous! The road from Cooksbridge past Plumpton is deceptively 'up', with lots of short and sharp slopes, warming the legs nicely before the first main hill of the day - Ditchling Beacon. JV turned back at this point, perhaps wisely, as he needed to get home to earn Christmas brownie-points.

Lord Buss overcooked it on Ditchling Beacon!

Patrick, Gareth, Stewart and I led the way, with Simon G just behind. Stewart had left his rear pocket open, making a convenient hand-hold. I latched on for a cheeky tow, but he seemed reluctant to help me out, so I had to pedal the whole way up without any assistance. Patrick and Gareth pulled away as Simon G and Stewart fell back a little. Slowly but surely, I was gaining on the front two, edging ever closer, but running out of road on which to catch them. I upped the pace as much as I could near the final ramp, but I couldn't quite reach them, and then Simon G put in a final big effort to get around me and onto the other two. I couldn't say who reached the top first as I had my head down, riding in a private world of agony. I rode through the top and past the car park, with Patrick and the others in various states of collapse at the entrance. It's a tough hill but somehow I'd ridden up it in my fastest time, even though I was on the 'Cannonball', with its extra weight. Very pleased with that!

The breakfast stop follows shortly after Ditchling, as we turn off the main road, cut though a car park and down a steep lane with speed bumps. The trick is to go as fast as you dare and leap the bumps, remembering that there is a metal gate at the bottom, so you can't let go completely! Stewart was in such a rush that he missed the turn, despite me shouting after him, firing a flare and calling the police. His new sideburns are, I think, impairing his hearing as well as his looks and aerodynamic efficiency. They are so 1970's! I quite expect him to make his next ride wearing a tank-top and flares. This look will nicely match his Raleigh Grifter.

As hoped, the Sussex Uni canteen was open. The food is good value for money and the machine-made coffee is strong and tasty. We had the place almost to ourselves - ten sweaty, mud-splattered, lycra-clad blokes of a certain age, hunkered down over huge plates of sausage, bacon, mushrooms, beans, toast, fried and scrambled eggs, hippopotamus steaks, grilled tomatoes... Malc C in particular had 'gone for broke', with a huge mountain of food that I didn't think he could possibly eat, but somehow he did, stuffing the last few forkfuls into his shorts for later. Et moi? Je mange une pain au chocolate. Magnifique!

Somehow, the rest of the group managed to remount their bikes and move their pedals, moving blood from their stomachs to their legs as we climbed the steep hill out of the University towards the Lewes Road cycle path. For the first time that day, we had some wind behind us and I tore along the path towards the Lewes roundabout, missing at one point the deviation in the path and leaping off a curb at 45kph. Exhilarating! The Cannonball takes such foolery totally in its stride, whereas my Giant would've banged hard into the road and shimmied like a belly dancer.

The route from here cuts along the north side of the Downs to Newhaven. There are some fast and pleasant stretches at this point, but also some stretches on which prize dickheads converge to drive their Golf GTIs. One young driver wedged herself between us, instead of waiting for a clear opportunity to overtake, and another came so close to my right leg that I could touch the car. The driver seemed to find this amusing and I made my feelings on the matter very clear. We were also riding at a decent speed, so it did feel a bit unnecessary. The group has split at this point into two, with Patrick, Simon, Stewart and I riding ahead and rotating the front as much as we could in the traffic.

Thankfully, Newhaven was soon behind us and the traffic and associated knobby-drivers reduced to more manageable levels, especially once we were through Seaford. Patrick and I swept fast down to the Golden Galleon, before grinding our way up Exceat to Friston Ponds. Patrick put in a fine effort, pulling out a big gap, greeting me from a bench at the top as I came to a sweaty halt. Ugh! Beachy Head to come and my legs were tired. The ray of hope was the strong wind that would give us a push up the winding slopes.

Stewart and I pushed our way into the strengthening wind that tore through Birling Gap. Stewart shouted to me that 'this is almost comical' and I knew what he meant - we were almost blown backwards, but it didn't feel very funny. And then the corner comes into view, you bank left the wind suddenly on your flank, and then as you make the full turn the roar of the wind leaves your ears and then shoves you in the back. I'd ridden 95km to experience this, so I span my pedals as best I could, determined that I would be first up Beachy. I gradually pulled away from Stewart and then Patrick, making the final ramp well clear of him. Home and dry, I thought, but as I neared the bus stop, I became aware of a carbon wheel, then a pointy beard, and then a golden earring. Patrick was trying to steal it on the line.

"Oi, I'm not having that!" I shouted at him and I leapt out of the saddle and gave it the beans. Cheeky Bugger! although to be fair, it's what I did to him on Ditchling the last time we did this ride, but that was different. We pulled into the car park and had a laugh about it, the others arriving in dribs and drabs. Peter B arrived elated, saying 'I smashed them, they're nowhere'. We soon understood why, as an old gent on a steel touring bike informed us that one of the group had a snapped rear derailleur cable and was stuck in bottom gear.

Oh dear. It seems that the weight of Malc C's breakfast had finally taken its toll, putting some much strain on his bike that something had to give. We waited some time, concluding that he must be walking up. Patrick, Stewart, Gareth and I were by now getting very cold, despite lots of group man hugs to share body warmth. We hacked back to the Pevensey roundabout before going our separate ways, Stewart and I riding back to Cooden with empty legs and stomachs, ready for a well-earned cuppa and late lunch as we upload to Strava! I was chuffed to have earned a good stack of PRs, especially up Ditchling, on a heavier bike with mudguards on a windy day.

This is a tough ride, not because the hill density is that high, but because the three main hills are lengthy climbs. The flat or rolling sections balance that out, and a nice south westerly wind helps on the homeward leg. Its a good social ride in a largish group, with lots of banter and support, so I recommend you come with us the next time we do this ride, which I think might be late February (tbc). Thanks again to Peter Buss for plotting the route and organising the ride, with help from Steve C.

Safe riding, Neil