Wednesday Night Chain Gang - Excellent Group Riding

Colonel Parker arrives to inspect the troops.

Whilst slightly down on previous weeks, we still had 20 riders turn up for a cold, still and dry chain gang. I was waiting for the off, talking to Lord Buckland and Baron Buss when we were interrupted by a sprightly older lady, accompanied by a young man of far eastern appearance. What was this - did she want him to join the ride? No - she explained at some length that she lived opposite and had seen us collect and then disappear each Wednesday night. She wanted to know where we were going and where we finished up. Chris Parker, ever the gentleman, explained who we were and what we were doing.  She seemed impressed and I thought she might join us herself - I think she winked at Lord B before taking her young man home (he's here to tinkle her ivories - she likes a bit of Rachmaninov).


Having fostered better relations with South Korea, we did some cycling. I'll admit that I was getting twitchy about making the start time, given the interruption, but eight ultras rolled out at 19:27 in a tight and speedy group that included the stupendous Stuart Hodd (back in chain gang action after a couple of weeks away), Barney 'Turbo' Willard, Alex 'Smoking' Smith, Michael 'Maximum' Maxwell and George 'Social' Welfare. Lord B and I took out the rest, soon splitting into a group of four to six riders that rolled at a good pace along Behill front. His Lordship was on my right and I said to him:

"You can make the rotate signal, if you want Stewart."
"Thanks awfully, old fruit, but I think it would be better if you did it."
"No, no - you do it, go on m'lud, I've done it the last few weeks - have a go!"
"Well, no, I don't think so ducky (!), I might mess it up."
"No! How can you mess it up, gaffer? It's easy - just do it, me old china!"
"Well, if you insist, old sausage, I'll do my best."

He extended his right arm (good start) and then rotated his hand in a clockwise direction, the opposite direction to how we should rotate. So THAT'S how you can mess it up! I think we all got the gist though, and Nick S soon came down the outside, his newly 'repaired' rear wheel clicking and clacking as he went by. I reminded him that Lord Numpty and I had offered to fix it for free, but he ignored me. Huh!

We soon settled into a group of four, then a group of six: Terry, Steve 'Bouncy' Butcher, Nick 'Smiler' Sargent, me, Simon 'Swifty' Grogan and his Lordship (swaying slightly under the influence of a glass of champers balanced precariously on his handlebars). Behind us, a further group of six made good progress too, with strong efforts from Peter 'Baron' Buss (no, I have no explanation for this sudden elevation in status) and others. Our group rode very well together, communicating clearly and maintaining a good, even pace.

Bow down before the most honourable Baron Buss 

Near the start of the marshes, Terry shouted that he had a problem with his rear light and we should go on. Nick S gallantly said he would stay back with him so that he had some cover. In the event, Terry and Nick managed to stay with the group and, after a judicious smack to the light, illumination was restored and Terry could relax. Hurrah! I jokingly asked for lead out up Spooky, but then found myself on the front - damn! I gave it the beans as a couple of riders came past. Then, pushing out of the saddle, I nearly went A over T as the back wheel slipped on a wet patch. Nick thought I was a goner, but I stayed upright and hacked on after the others. We reassembled on the downward slope, staying away from the margins of the road as ice was a risk.

Interestingly, the council have put up 'slow' and 'skidding car' signs at either end of the stretch of road on which JV came to grief on last week. The worst section is in the middle of the road near the National Nature Reserve, where there is a strip of 20m or so that is slick tar - lethal when there is some moisture or frost on it. We avoided a repeat of last week's 'lying down' episode and continued rotating the front in a close formation, working well together right to the end.

We set off on the return leg after a short break to stare at the orange moon, just over full and waning. This week, I bridged the gap to the ultras and managed to hang on the back, dropping off a little on Spooky Hill, but just getting back on by the Star Inn. I tucked in behind Stuart Hodd and told him I was hanging on; he was doing the same and there was a rider or two behind me. Alex's bright pink silk overshoes flashed up and down as he sped to the front of the group, somewhat incongruous in a mass of black cycling tights, but setting off the fluoro green tops that a number of us wore.

We rode on strongly, Stuart repeating himself over and over to the riders in front that he was 'not coming through - GO!' I made it as far as the level crossing at Herbrand Walk, about as far as I ever get when riding with the ultras. But this week, I stayed on the back all along Herbrand, around the corner and part of the way up the slope. I hope you'll forgive this blatant episode of wheel-sucking, and at least at this point I got my comeuppance, as the ultras pulled away with ease. I WISH I had their power - I'm going to have to lose some weight (how long have I been saying that?).

I rode on and then Stewart B rode past. I put in an effort to get on his wheel, but he was on a mission and left me behind (despite suffering from a 'virus', he said - some dodgy foie gras, more likely). I couldn't catch him and I settled into a twosome with Simon G, each of us putting in a strong pull on the front, getting closer to Stewart, but never quite reaching him. Simon pushed that bit harder towards the end and took the honours - good riding!

I've not much to report thereafter. I took 'the Baron' back to Normans Bay, passing him over to a tetchy-looking matron - arms folded, brow furrowed, legs akimbo - quite alarming. I rode on, as is my habit, to the Pevensey roundabout, the cold intensifying and making smooth pedalling harder. The cold was chewing on my hands and feet, robbing me of feeling in my toes and fingertips. Overshoes are great, but if you ride for long enough in the cold, it will find a way in. I don't know how I ever rode without them, but I do remember finishing many winter rides on what felt like stumps - no feeling in my feet and very little in my hands. Madness!

As many of you have experienced, the temperature rises noticeably once you leave the marshes, and last night it felt almost warm as I rounded the corner onto Herbrand, and warmer still as I headed down Cooden Drive. Bliss! I prefer that to wet and windy. Fingers crossed it stays like this for the weekend...

Safe riding, Neil