Report On Our ESCA 10 And 25 Mile Time Trials

LAST weekend's East Sussex Cycling Association 10 and 25 mile time trials were a success with 14 year old Fabien Large putting in the best personal performances for Hastings. After getting several early season events in his legs including a new sub 27 PB of 26:30 in West Kent RC’s recent 10 at Harrietsham Fabien set himself up for his first ever 25 mile TT with a course PB of 26:53 in the East Hoathly 10 on Saturday.

 It looked as though it was all going to go wrong for him on Sunday when his rear cassette unscrewed on his warm up. Having got there nice and early to prepare there was time for his Dad to rush over from Robertsbridge and fix it with seconds to spare before his start. His debut time of 1:07:57 may have been helped with an extra early dose of adrenaline in the build up with the uncertainty of whether he would report to the start time keeper in time!

Our best placed rider in the 25 was David Earl (1:04:25) who has had about five years off racing since he was regularly going well inside the hour. Ivan Johnson (1:05:40) who also went well under the hour a few years back was riding his fixed as smoothly as ever after being on standby to DNS in the event of a last minute need to withdraw and help cover any jobs that needed doing. Chris Parker (1:16:32) missed out on being lantern rouge by shading his arch rival from Lewes by nine seconds!

 It was Hastings’ responsibility to organise the 25 for the Association so a very big thank you indeed to all the club members who turned out on the day to help the event run smoothly:

Event Secretary: Chris Parker

Recording:  Malcolm Daly          

Pushing Off:  Stuart Crabb          

Signage:  Stuart Crabb

Marshals: Simon Grogan, Steve Curtis, Paul Butler and Colin Vicary (taking photos) at the Boship roundabout, Terry Sowa and Peter Brehme at Little Horsted roundabout and Romana Miles and Tim Miles at Black Down roundabout.

Refreshments:    Pippa Parker  

Of course others were involved: ESCA officials, time keepers and especially Ann Human (Rovers) with her superb results presentation on screen (points table etc too), plus loan of signs from Rovers      

On the April ESCA 25 weekend Black Down roundabout (the one by MacDonalds) should be renamed Romana's roundabout since it may well be more than 15 years that she has marshalled there. Tim was on the start sheet but was a DNS to help Romana. They had their work cut out as the later starters went by since a triathlon had their competitors taking the first exit with the ESCA 25 taking the second exit to continue on the A22. It was a bit scary at times with a couple of our riders and many of the triathletes not having researched and remembered the course or listened to the briefings and warnings. We had one DNF off course, a rider who went window shopping in Uckfield !

 Paul Holdaway (24:24) was not feeling great and backed off towards the end of Saturday's 10 to post our best time and pick up our only ESCA points of the weekend, so unfortunately he was a DNS for the 25. Also riding the 10 were David Earl (25:42) and Chris Parker (45:18) who stopped for a slow repair to a slow puncture after seven miles.

Chris Parker

Photographs of the event on Facebook here. many thanks to Colin Vicary of Tenn-Outdoors

Wednesday Chain Gang - Season Finale

I suppose it’s fitting that the last chain gang of the 2015-16 season should be in cold, wet and windy conditions. Classic chain gang weather you might say, which for the most part we have not enjoyed this year as much as in the past.
Unperturbed by the inclement conditions (sleet and snow anyone?), nearly 30 riders assembled at the shelter, some rather ambitiously wearing shorts or sleeveless tops. Personally, I decided on bib-longs over bib-shorts, two tops, neoprene over-shoes, arm warmers and an anorak. I was just too tired to cope with being cold and opted for the ‘boil in a bag’ option. Some riders who shall be nameless (Stewart B) opted for the warmth and comfort of a turbo session in the garage. He is rather delicate, so I don’t blame him. As a boy, his Nanny made him swim across the lake, winter and summer, before he could have his cold porridge breakfast and a good thrashing from the chamber maid. Picture him, if you will, with his spindly white legs and goose-bumped flesh, shivering at the water’s edge in his string vest. His chest hasn't never been the same since.
Anyway… Off rolled a smallish group of ultras, including Calvin, feeling fresh and cheeky. Then out rolled the rest of us, in a bit of a rabble, beginning a rotation as we went along Bexhill front. The wind was bearable and the sleet and snow seemed to have finished. Looming ahead of us, sweeping north-eastwards over the Downs and Eastbourne, was a huge stack of black cloud with heavy rain beneath it. I was confident it would not reach us at the Pevensey roundabout, but others were less sure:
‘I’ve not got a vest on, my nipples will get frost bite’ whined Peter Baker.
‘My mum says I’m not to get damp, or I’ll get a chill’ whimpered Gareth.
‘I don’t want to get buttock rot again’ gibbered Michael.

Time to celebrate the end of another successful chain-gang season

Shirley tightened her helmet straps and adjusted her glasses, hunkering down over her handlebars with grim determination etched into her face and pedalled on without a single complaint. Chapeau Shirley, you showed ‘em how to ride last night.
Whereas I was not really in the mood for it. I fell off the back of the group, later telling Peter B that I had slowed to work with Darren. As it was, he and I rode a decent two-up from Herbrand Walk, neither of us having the pace to reach the ‘supers’. Darren has been riding for only five months or so and has made great progress with his fitness and speed. Moreover, he is really enjoying cycling and that’s what it’s all about. I have to say, I was not enjoying it as much as I wanted, having hoped that we would have good weather for the final Wednesday outing. Hey ho, bloody weather.
We stayed very briefly at the layby, the most superb Stuart H keen to get back before the rain reached us. Off we went as a mass of thrashing legs, flashing lights and swishing rubber, the ultras swooping past at speed before we reached the first bend on Sluice Lane. I really didn’t feel like chasing after them, even with the wind behind me. I was also riding the Cannonball (excuse alert!) and, as you all know, each wheel weighs 3 kilos. The scaffolding pole frame adds another 12 kilos, so really I had no chance of keeping up with anyone.  A week or two riding the Giant TCR has quickly spoilt me. I struggled on, pushing hard, suffering, swearing and sweating in my anorak.
The Strava ‘flyby’ animation shows me riding back close to or with a number of riders, but frankly  I don’t remember much about it (sorry chaps). I was more than ready for a drink when we reached the traffic lights, so off we went. As ever, we enjoyed a pleasant pint or three and a good chat. As someone said on Strava, ‘we don’t do enough of that’ and he’s right. Having said that, I had the one pint and then repeated the chain gang route again, feeling more than a little tipsy. Total lightweight.
Highlights of the chain gang season? Seeing such good numbers throughout the winter, only dipping below 10 on one or two occasions. Enjoying, for the most part, relatively good weather and not once needing to use the ‘Cooden Crit’ route. Also, seeing a consistently high standard of group riding, with no alarming manoeuvres or near-misses. It was great to see Lord Buckland’s completed Grifter restoration and to meet his butler. And I have loved every minute of the banter and good humour that the chain gang provides.
I suppose a low-point would be John V inspecting the road surface rather more closely than he wished! I note that the council have since resurfaced the slick parts of the road. On a personal note, I felt the benefit of riding the Cannonball for several months, and then riding a lighter bike in recent weeks. It’s good training and I’ve saved my ‘better’ bike from the worst of the weather. I won’t call it a winter bike, as I’ll use it whenever the weather is wet. It’s a training bike that I might put some better kit on at some point, but right now I’m more than happy to keep rolling with Sora and mudguards!
The TT season starts next week at Broadoak and Nick Sargent is organising a Wednesday night ride over the summer of 30 miles or so as a substitute for the chain gang. Whatever you do midweek, I look forward to seeing you on the road at some point and I thank you all for a fantastic chain gang season. As usual, I’m sad that it’s finished for four months, but we will appreciate more after a break from it.

Safe riding, Neil Smith

PART DEUX - PRE BBR Sat 23rd April - 'COOL FOR CATS'

09:58 Di Paulos

'Hi Pete! '

I looked at the HSLCC kit clad cyclist  who breezed past me, but couldn't work out who it was. I gathered up my bits and headed outside with a ' heavy' heart. I had to accept, with much reluctance, that I didn't have time to take part in the BBR, due to a pressing engagement with a paint brush.

'Oh it's DUNCAN (P) , I didn't recognise you! ', I said.

' Must be my new 'shades', he said as he took them off for a quick admiring glance before repositioning under his helmet again.

'They're really nice ',  I affirmed.

' Well the way I see it, if they're good enough for Cav, they're good enough for me '

' Yes, they are rather smart ', I reaffirmed.

' They weren't cheap you know, but I think they're well worth the money ' I smiled in agreement.

' I reckon they make me look twenty years younger ' he said.

' I must get going '  I said,  and headed  off in the opposite direction from the BBRers. I must admit Duncan did have ' shaggable shades ', but I'll stick with my ' Racing Jackets  ' for now, however, I made mental note to myself:

' See if there's a cheap Chinese copy available from EBay yet '

07:46 Normans Bay Border Crossing.

'In your own time, Terry', I said with mock irritation.

Terry was having a good old 'faff' . I wasn't sure what his intention was; something to do with Velcro, I surmised.

'Just give me 2 secs '

More faffing.

' Look,  just a sec.'

Something fell on the ground - a piece of Velcro, I think.

'I wish I hadn't started this',  he said

Eventually.

'OK, I'm ready now -  no 'ang on a minute!'

He then removed his helmet and retrieved his sunglasses that he had trapped underneath!.
He made the the obligatory gusset adjustment and we were off.

Sunny enough for shades

Watching Terry's 's performance bought me in mind of the time Mal C cycled from Bexhill to Wartling , on the BBR, with his helmet on the wrong way around. Sorry Mal, I have mentioned this in blogs before, but unfortunately I don't feel able to let it slip from my memory archive, totally, as it is just too much of a 'gem'.

I could only show tolerance to Terry, because I have a catalogue of absent minded tomfoolery, here is one from my ' classico' collection  :

Setting off for my regular commute to Bexhill and wondering why I couldn't 'clip in' , looking down to see I'm still wearing my Crocs, turn back to garage to put cycling shoes on and set off again.  Getting halfway to work and feeling really strong until realising  I didn't have my rucksack on. Thinking 'Oh, never mind, I can can manage without my books and flask', carrying on to Bexhill, getting to the flats and realising I didn't have the keys to get in. 'Oh, b@ll@cks, I'll have to go back' , and getting home  to find the garage door up with a sign on my best Giant carbon bike saying ' nick me' and my rucksack outside with the top gaping open collecting rain.  Luckily, Vicki was blissfully unaware of all this.

I made a big mistake at the start of the  ride of  informing Terry, Mal and Darren that I was only doing this and not the BBR. This has a two-fold effect ; firstly, you're not really 'one of them',  and secondly you lay yourself open to be abused.

Tom appears like Willo the wisp

The ride to  Beachy was relaxed with everyone taking a turn on the front. As usual Tom N popped up like will o' the wisp ; a ghostly apparition, he paused  momentarily to exchange some pleasantries before, head down,  to set off after Terry who making good progress up ahead.  It hasn't escaped my attention that Terry has become a stronger rider of late - it was only a few weeks ago when I breezed past him going up Beachy,  this time I was struggling to keep him in view. Darren maintained  a respectable,  and steady distance ahead of me,  and Mal, still recovering from a chest infection, brought up the rear.

It was on the return, just after leaving the seafront,  that I heard those awful, but predicted  words:

' As you're not doing the BBR it's only right that you should lead us home. '

Well I was happy to oblige, but there was a hefty headwind to deal with. Even so, I managed to maintain the lead most of the way back. On the ' South Cliff Slog' segment, Mal C, knowing it is one of my favourite segments (I'm not saying I feature in the top 10, but I'm proud of my standing considering my age etc.) ,  made an audacious bid to dump me and seize his moment of glory ;

'In yours dreams sunshine! '  I thought

Time to head back

I gave it everything and managed to catch him up  and then ease past him.

Back at Di Paulos I bought a slab of bread pudding and sat down down to savour it with my coffee when I noticed Terry pulling a face while tucking into his slab  :

' There's no currants in this! '

I had to concur, the chef had run out of, or had forgotten to add them.

'Oi,  Luigi, this bread pudding's got no currants in it'

'Really? Oh, I am sorry to hear that, would you like  me to kill myself? ' (he didn't really say that. )

As usual there was a great turnout for the BBR. Andy was doing a bit of
' wheeling and dealing' with the HSLCC kit and sold a shirt to Mal C.   It's great to see more people wearing kit and who knows, one day wearing kit will be almost obligatory. Whenever I see other clubs where all members are 'kitted out', I always feel a sense of regret that,  even though we are an ancient and,  hopefully, respected club we don't generally present ourselves to the public that way (personally I blame Castelli.)

I love the Pre BBR and am proud to be a founder member, along with Stewart B, Matt S and Mal C.

Peter Buss

23/4- Oasts and Coasts 300Km Audax

The route of the 'Oasts And Coasts' 300K audax

It’s funny how you get into things. If you had asked me do you want to cycle over 300 km get up at 3am & not get back until after midnight – like any sane human being, I would of course said no. But I guess I hang out with the wrong crowd. Anyway there I was at a dingy scout house in Meopham at 5.45am surrounded by men clearly on the spectrum (or perhaps suffering from their recent sense of humour transplant). Patrick & I were first to arrive, followed by Grand Master Duncan Feathers. Eventually JV arrived, Steve Butcher (who paid and didn’t butcher the ride) and eventually Gareth who was busy fannying around, before he started to faff.

Taking a breather at Uckfield

Anyway the field of social misfits set off with us having to wait for Gareth. Eventually he finished and we set off, our first mishap was a broken chain just after the first checkpoint, when the Grand Masters chain broke. Steve Butcher (who appeared to have come prepared for a weeks holidays carrying a back pack, curiously the least aero you could find in order to comply with Audax regs) plucked various tools from said backpack to ably assist. Steve hasn’t been riding much so advised us young things to go off without him. This we did and the lanes of Kent whooshed by before we found ourselves in familiar Sussex. We were fairly relaxed although made up considerable gains on the rest of the field before we found ourselves in a nice little Italian café in Uckfield. This was sensible paced running with no chasing of Strava segments (ala recent BBR style). This continued throughout, with the group being the most important factor and each member looking after each other (except Steve).


Anyway he did eventually arrive and we gave him time to finish off his breakfast and set off together with the rest of us. On the road out we were overtaken by a white van. The driver got out and stood in the road to confront us (he was not aggressive) explaining that we should be riding in synchronised conveys like he did when he was in the army driving trucks. Obviously riding single file is not enough, and we need to have standard gaps between us to allow him to overtake. The irony was that he was claiming we were making him late to work as he confronted us for over 10 minutes at the road side.

Long distance audaxing brings about conviviality

We got to even more familiar territory and arrived in Battle High St where we needed a till receipt to confirm we had been there. Patrick then proceeded to do the weeks shop before we caught him and made him put the groceries back and just buy a Twix.

We then made our way as a group through Sedlescombe and out to Rye. I had a puncture which was changed in Formula 1 style when Steve’s backpack again came to the fore, super gluing the tiny bit of damage in the tyre.

Up until then the sun was out and the wind was cold but not unpleasant. That was about to change as we went along the Military Canal road and out across the marsh. We had a brutally cold head/cross wind and the teamwork really kicked in with through and off right the way to Hythe, where we pulled in to the checkpoint café which had run out of healthy food. As before we overtook many of the other riders, some of which looked really familiar.

At this point JV shared that his hand was really painful, everybody was really sympathetic when he decided he had had enough and was going to return across the marsh with a tail wind to assist. I say every body – Gareth then declared Audaxing as a sport, we had beaten JV 1-0 and there were no rematches and we were going to retire on completion. Well who am I to argue?

Then we were 4, Steve had resorted to form and had become a solitary rider, sleeping in bus stops and living off the land.

We then pushed on to Deal when we had to get another till receipt (overtaking the same people we had overtaken before) – eventually we found a corner shop and the Grand Master Duncan went straight to the bin outside the shop to find a till receipt. This was to no avail, as the experienced Audaxers had been then first. He then had to make do with a two for the price of one chocolate milkshake, which I very kindly helped him out with.  The wind persisted and ripped into us, although by the time we got to Minnis Bay we detected that it might have been now behind our right shoulder. Passing the famous caravan of my Aunty Pat (see previous blog) the next stop was Herne Bay on the way we amused ourselves with talk of sore undercarriages, shoulders and what not. Gareth pointed at the offshore wind farm and suggested that if they turned those b***** fans off it might be less windy. We just agreed and thought he wouldn't understand even if we tried.

Why not drink alcohol at the half way point?

Once arrived, the Hastings boys did what they do best & ate curry, rice & chips and drank beer (although Patrick was pretending he was posh and had wine). The Aduaxers were not impressed as this did not compute, one came up and mumbled through his compulsory beard that this what he thought you did when you finished – how we laughed.

Hastings CC riders recommend chips and curry for audaxing

It was now starting to get dark so we needed to make adjustments to the electronics. Gareth was in his element and this was more faff and fannying to be down. He then needed to stop again to adjust the backlight on his Garmin. The Grand Master was very confused at how he could adjust his backlight from his handlebars – we told him that he was too old to understand. At this point we could sense the end and pushed on overtaking all of the people we had overtaken before (it appears that real Audaxers don’t waste time stopping and eating). The hills returned and we had to navigate narrow lanes with potholes in the dark. We looped around the M20 and at one point nearly ended up on it. With great relief we arrived back at the dingy scout hut where we were warmly welcomed by the organisers at 10.30 pm. Hats off to these guys – what dedication. Gareth had to wait for Steve so decided to take his mileage up to 200 by going up and down the flat village road (much to the amusement of the pub goers ending their might out).

Real team work out there – just like it should be. It was a real pleasure riding with you guys.

Peter Baker

23/4 BBR- St George's day

The Knights and Dames did a damn good job on the St.George's day BBR on a pretty chilly day. Duncan led the ride with Andy "shove over will you" Coulter doing a fine job as back stop. Duncan was his usual somewhat staccato self in his quest to take Strava segments off Neil Smith, but managed to settle down later, mainly due to being knackered. Peter Brehme goes from strength to strength and Derek Millgate put in a very respectable time up Boreham Hill. Sue Landy and her daughter added to the mix, it's lovely when families come along. The bluebells are still in abundance especially at the bottom of Tilley Lane. We were joined by some non regulars. The highlight of the ride for me was one of the younger guys sprinting off away from me across the marsh. Considering I was doing about 25mph at that point it was most impressive. Chilley Farm stop was fun and the source of Andy C's traits became clear when he revealed he comes from Southport, so in my book he is a posh Scouser. We won't however hold it too much against him as it turns out he is actually a damn decent bloke, it just takes a while to realize it.

Duncan P

Wednesday Chain Gang - East Wind Blitz

‘Just how old are you?’ asked daughter no2, doubled up with laughter. ‘I mean, who says that - “hmm, a strong and cold easterly wind, you’ll need a coat” - except old men! I mean, who even knows something like that? Ha, ha, ha!’

Well, actually, cyclists and fishermen know things like that, but the explanation was wasted on her. My status as an old fuddy-duddy is confirmed forever. A ride to do some errands confirmed my reading of the weather forecast - a stiff east wind that would great for the outward leg of the chain gang, but nasty for the return. It’s the opposite to what most of us want and I think we all knew what was coming - a blisteringly fast outward leg and then a nasty grind back into a cold east wind (why is the east wind never warm?).

We enjoyed another great turn out, with more than 30 riders showing up. Seven ultras set off in good light but without warning. I pelted after them, followed by a mini-stampede of other riders. Trevor thought he was chasing me as part of the 'supers' group and got a bit of a shock as the pace ramped up on Herbrand Walk, when he realised who he was riding with.

Before that, the ultras were caught on Cooden Drive by a group of ‘supers’ to make a larger group of 16 or so. This made for too many riders in one bunch to make for an efficient ‘through and off’ ride. There were grumbles about gaps and then, before we reach Spooky Hill, Barney took action, wanting to avoid a crush of riders as the road narrows and the hill sends slower riders backwards through the group. I heard a faint click as he switched on his super-charger. There as a slight delay (turbo lag), then a small puff of smoke from his ‘exhaust’. His legs span up to 180rpm, followed by the sound of rubber losing grip, then biting tarmac again. And then he was gone, with Stuart H, Michael, Trevor and a couple of others hanging on his wheel.

That blew the group up nicely, with the genuinely quick riders leaving the us mere mortals to ride on in fragmented twos and threes. I settled into a trio with Gareth and Duncan, chasing down Neil Shier and Ruth. We gradually wound them in. Duncan shouted for me to ease up as I was dropping him and Gareth. I head back for a bit, but I was determined to get across to the other two.

I found myself on the front again and I shouted to Duncan that I wanted to bridge across. He came by me and I shouted at him to go for it. There were some complaints, so I shouted again and chased hard after him, shouting more encouragement to whip him forward, whilst I sheltered behind him, with Gareth hanging on too. Well, Duncan’s got a nice new carbon bike, so it would take him less effort than it would take me, surely? He took us across to Neil and Ruth, without collapsing, and I suddenly felt a bit guilty. But not for long. Good work Duncan!

Not surprisingly, the mad thrash to Pevensey roundabout delivered some record Strava times for the club. I rode my fastest ever outward leg; Duncan bagged some top-tens; and I also nabbed a KoM, (before we started, shooting down Galley Hill with the wind behind me). Dr Ed Gomm, a sometime BBR-rider and anaesthetist, capable of sending patients into a deep sleep with expert ease, ridiculed my Strava efforts saying that the Galley Hill segment was ‘not a mountain’.

Oh dear, Ed, you have so missed the point. We are all elite athletes on Strava, finally getting the recognition that the laws of chance and cruel fate have denied us, and where others stand only by pure fluke (Mo Farah, Andre Greipel, Froome, Cancellara etc). A KoM is the pinnacle of that recognition, a rare taste of olympic glory, a gold medal, a trophy, our chance to lift the FA cup, a chance to - well, you get the idea. Wiggins doesn't have a KoM locally and neither does Cavendish. They might have a chance of bagging one, with the wind in their favour, but they haven’t. Therefore, anyone with a local KoM is clearly a better, faster rider than either of them. Strava proves it.

Right, now we’ve sorted that out, let’s move on. So we’d had the fun bit, now for the return ride into that vicious east wind. Barney again pressed the turbo button, taking a small group with him. A large following group formed and made good progress in hot pursuit of the ultras, neatly up Spooky Hill and fast down the other side.

It was all going so well. I was on the back of the group as it hoofed it down the east slope. Someone near the front braked and that rippled back though the group. I was the last to break and the last to restart pedalling, but it was too late. The wind got between me and the group and I couldn’t get back on. So, I rode back alone into an increasingly cold wind, feeling rather grumpy. Well, it wasn't so bad a night, bearing in mind the fantastic blast across Bexhill front and the marshes.

After riding with Peter and Tom to PRNB and the roundabout again, I returned home and uploaded my ride, seeing the KoM. ‘Wow, I got a KoM tonight!’ I said, with genuine excitement. No reaction from wife and children. ‘I said I got a KoM tonight!!’, this time raising my voice. A chorus of groans was the response, and a patronising ‘oh, well done darling, how nice’. Daughter no2 asked whether ‘the arsehole from Eastbourne’ would take the KoM back again. I said probably yes, or that the segment would be altered, or reported as dangerous, or otherwise messed up. Truth is that he, Nigel T and I all share the fastest time down Galley Hill, at least for now. I look forward to someone else taking the KoM fair and square in due course - there are lots of faster riders out there capable of doing so.

Next week sees the last chain gang until September, so bring some pocket money for a drink at ‘The Forum’ bar on Devonshire Square. It’s soon TT season again - time to test your true metal against the clock.

Safe riding, Neil

What a difference a day makes - London to Hastings.

It's sunny this morning (Sunday) this but time yesterday it was cold overcast with the constant risk of rain but the e mails had gone round and we were going to do it. There was a lot of Facebook banter about digging out the ‘big girls blouses’ but we all managed to resist the temptation.

Getting up so early on a Saturday morning to arrive at Hastings station at 5;50am involved a degree of self-discipline especially for Steve C who refused to go to bed the previous night until he had finished editing the chain-gang video (it was finally finished about 12:30am)

Last to board the train were Andy L  and John S who boarded at Robertsbridge .

How can the railways be so good at messing up journey's. The train had already been diverted via Redhill but when we got there we got the tannoy announcement “ the train to london bridge is cancelled as the driver cannot close the door”. There was another train so we had to get all the bikes off and onto the train. Steve D was already on it as he has secret knowledge about these things.
We were going to be about 15 mins  late so a hasty phone call to Sam walker had to be made .

We piled off at London bridge . Stepping outside we were confronted by the reality of the unseasonably cold air, how could it be this cold in April?

Assembling at Somerset House

 We now had to get to Somerset house. We had two  people with “the knowledge” but they had different routes. The race was on. Some followed Duncan P some followed Steve D. I opted for Duncan and this involved a lot of sides streets . We were nearly there and someone in front slammed on over the Thames in front of me so I slammed on but Duncan F was looking at the boats on the Thames and so ended up going over the handlebars and landing in the road.

Nigel riding up to London made it ten minutes before we did

Captain caveman (Nigel T) was already there, he had decided not to go to bed that night but stay up till 4am then cycle up a route he knew to his mums’ house in the suburbs before following a route plotted by a Strava algorithm to meet us for the start. Now some would think that odd but not us as we know this is the sought of thing Nigel does.

I think we were expecting to see quite a few in Sam's group but there were only three of them whereas we were now a dozen strong.

There was quite a contrast in appearances between Sam’s group and ours. We were all riding clipless and the latest lycra winter attire whereas Sam was wearing a fleece, flat pedals and a single speed bike. Some of our group were also riding some seriously high end bikes including Duncan P on his first ever ride on a brand new Trek Emonda. Initial thoughts were that Sam’s group were going to be far slower than us but this impression was totally wrong as Sam turned out to be surprisingly strong and could have outrode all but the most able of our group.

Has Captain Caveman brought along one of his pets?

So we were off . Riding in and out of the London city traffic was interesting, although Steve C found it rather stressful and was glad to ride near Peter Brehme who is more used to these congested roads. The roads gradually became less littered with ‘road furniture’  as we passed on into the suburbs, then Crystal palace at 10 miles . One of our dinosaurs was missing (you would need to be over 50 to get this joke) so we had to check this out.

This was also our first stop. It seemed early but Derek was glad of the break as his fingerless gloves were proving a mistake. It turned out to be a long stop as bacon buttie's were being ordered but Derek headed straight for the radiator to defrost his fingers. Amazingly both Shirley and her brother Matt were riding in shorts as well as fingerless gloves. Do they have a rare family gene that enables them to resist cold temperatures?

A chance for the two groups to get to know each other 

After leaving Crystal Palace ,the urban terrain soon changed to rural, our pace improved and the hills of the North Downs now appeared. Before long we were soon passing Chartwell and climbing up towards Tunbridge Wells. We stopped at the top to look at a spectacular view and regroup. We were spreading out quite a bit.

Patrick Peter Punctures . It rolls off the tongue. Patrick seems to have passed his puncture curse to others. The first one happened outside a row of small houses. A mature lady pulledup  in her car up to see if we were OK and asked us where we were cycling to. When we explained we were cycling from London to Hastings she was so impressed that she invited us all round to her house for tea and cakes. We really appreciated the gesture but sadly we had to turn her down as time was pressing .Patrick,Pete and Nigel urged the rest of us to leave them to fix the puncture alone, being ‘A’ group riders they would soon catch the rest of us up . Those who follow Strava will note their ride time is about 20 mins less than the rest.

Sam had plotted a route which managed to avoid too many hills. This pleased Shirley and Helena no end but there was one short but impressive hill called Hogtrough hill. This was the only hill that defeated Shirley, although we think she would have made it, if only she had the confidence to ride out the saddle.

By now Duncan had had enough time to assess his new bike purchase. This new Trek has Dii gears ,apparently you just sit on it and it does the rest for you. He told us he was really enjoying this new bike and that the fit was excellent, he was certainly riding well.


Tunbridge Wells, 42 miles, 4 hours and the Velo cafe. A cycling themed cafe which was packed. The owner comes out and gives you each a bike lock to use. We had missed the breakfast menus but there are quite a few unusual alternatives. Steve D did one of his disappearing acts, but this time it wasn’t Steve being antisocial. Somehow his rear derailleur had got broken which necessitated a (for him free)  train ride home. Most of the riders ordered fancy food such as wraps and bean sprouts  but Steve C and Peter Brehme stuck to good old fashioned carrot cake. Steve thought it was the largest bit of carrot cake he had eaten in his life and felt a bit dizzy with the subsequent sugar rush.

It was a terrible shock to the system when we stepped from the over warm café to the very cold air outside. While we struggled working out which key unlocked which lock, Duncan P wisely remained inside grinning at us through the door glass only joining us when his bike was free.

Our mini Paris-Roubaix

At some point Peter picked up a second 'A' grouppuncture. Once again we left the A team to fix the puncture on their own but for the next ten miles or so we enjoyed a lot more downs than ups , so this time it took them some considerable time to catch up. Steve C was leading many of these descents including one really long very steep one that joined a T junction head on. Luckily his cautious nature came up trumps as all riders managed to safely brake in time. The route directed us down a narrow country lane with signs warnings about mud. It felt a bit like the Paris Roubaix but without the cobbles . We thought Sam and the others were behind us, so were surprised when they suddenly appeared in front of us. They had taken an alternative route to avoid the mud , it was now that Steve remembered reading something about  a change of route on one of Sam’s emails!

A couple of weeks ago Derek had suffered badly on the 547 feet climb up to Brightling where he suffered his Captain Oats moment. This time however it was a different route up to the stop and although it gained the same altitude , the steepness was not so severe. Also it was clear that Derek was a different rider compared to a month ago. The combination of Improver’s rides and the ‘Tour of The Weald’ have done him a power of good , his climbing is the best we have seen from him for a long time

A welcolme surprise for us At Brighling from Sam and partner

At the summit of the climb we were greeted by Sams partner who had kindly prepared some home-made blueberry muffins for us.
This was  great, some bright spark commented we should arrange this ourselves but with there being one less muffin than riders !!!!

Sam then asked if we wanted to detour to see mad Jack Fullers pointy tomb. Unfortunately some did want to so two more miles were added. We had to go back the way we came as the next viewpoint was the observatory. This is at 647 feet

No John, this wasn't built by the Egyptians 

That done it was mainly descending all the way to Pevensey where we  had to stop for Peters second puncture. This time Steve C gave him an extra thick inner tube, hopefully this would avoid 'A' group puncture number four. Initially being so near the end, we all waited for him to fix it, up to the point when there was a loud pop as the tyre popped off the rim and the amusing sight of CO2  gas spaying out of a frozen canister in all directions (Pete is the world’s worst puncture repairer)

"I cant take it any-more, sob!"

We left the A team to catch us up and the sun suddenly came out so it was a sunny ride back. Thoughts naturally turned to the pub stop with us eventually agreeing a mid point pub between Bexhill and Hastings to be fair on the Bexhill riders. Unfortunately we missed Duncan P  who had gone past and by the time he answered his phone he was in Hastings.

Many thanks to Sam Walker for plotting such an excellent route (84 miles) and for looking after us so well. Sam’s road leadership was superb with Sam always riding ahead to the next junction to make sure everyone went the right way before waiting for the slower riders to catch up. We all hope to be able to ride with him again next year.


Derek /Steve C

Wednesday Chain Gang - Big Turnout for Speedy Sunset Boulevard Bash

Mega Turnout!

'Right, Neil, I want you to ride past and duck as Stewart swings his axe, then you shoot him with your pistol. Barney, you ride up and stab him in the neck. Peter (camera 2), you get an angle from the back. Duncan, you squirt the blood and I'll do the headcam - got it? Oh, and Stewart, go to make-up - you've got a shiny nose.' We all nodded and took our places for 'scene four, take 12'. I didn't know that making a film could be such hard work.

Despite being an'Ultra' Stu still has time to say hello

I tried counting the riders last night, but it wasn't easy, what with Steve 'Tarrantino' Curtis giving film directions and the usual abuse from the group. I think there were 37 riders in all. The Baron thought this was a record number, but I disagreed. He stared at me and repeated, slowly and quietly, ‘I think that’s a record number, Neil.’ I had the sense to agree at this point. 'Yes Peter.' How very much like a movie star he looked in his pink latex skin suit and bowler hat, reminding me of a character from A Clockwork Orange. We had perfect cycling weather to enjoy - warm, dry, little wind - with another beautiful sunset to speed towards on the outward leg.

"Hurry up, what are you waiting for?"

Seven ultras went out, followed by a dozen or so 'fast' riders, and then a further two groups of varying experience and ability. For the most part, my group had a magnificent seven or so riders who regularly shared the front, with the others hanging off the back. I don't mind that, unless folk are taking the mickey. It took a bit of time for the group to settle, but we then enjoyed a fast ride over the marshes. I bagged my fastest time to date for the outward leg and others also had a good speedy evening.

The 'Supers' get rolling

We were in touching distance of the ultras for much of the ride; they only really put space between us after Spooky Hill. Some were keen to catch them, some less so. They were toying with us really, as they can put in a spurt and be gone in no time - gone with the wind. I was eager to get after them, but there was no way I could do it alone, and traffic played a part in adding to the space between us.

We had the usual 'should we stay or should we go' dance at the (last tango in...) Pevensey layby, as a never-ending stream of riders came in off the marshes. Surely there can’t be more? I set off with the ultras, riding smoothly for a short while, then 'pink leader' Barney, top gun in the group, accelerated and we all hung on. Thankfully, it was just a burst to get up to cruising speed and I managed to stay with the group as we took the tight right-hander at the nature reserve, then sped on to the foot of the west slope of Spooky Hill, the local version of Dante's Peak.

Neil is in a playful mood

I found myself exactly where I didn't want to be - coming up the outside of the group to take the lead from the fabulous Stuart Hodd. He must have taken pity on me because I managed to get in front of him, just where he usually puts in a big effort to power up the hill. I owed it to him to really go for it, so I made a big effort to maintain the speed of the following group. It felt fast enough, with Stewart B taking over the lead as we hit the ‘summit’. Hills are not my strong point - less weight and more power needed!

From there, we swept down the east slope to my favourite corner - the left hand bend at Normans Bay. I love cranking the bike over and holding my line in the group, carrying as much speed as possible as we straighten up and pelt towards the Star Inn. Riding fast and furious, you have to concentrate and work hard to keep the group together at pace.

Duncan looks a bit like Contador in those shades.

After the Inn and the second bridge, I think Barney and Stuart engaged warp drive, pulling away with a few other riders of genuine class and leaving me for a solo ride to the lights. I dug deep but I couldn't match their speed and they opened up a gap. Next time, I hope to be ready for the surge. Despite best efforts, a following group overtook me like a swarm of locusts, just before reaching the lights. No respect, showing off for the cameras, the tarts.

Overall, it was an exciting evening ride. Perhaps too many people rode for it to be tidy enough to keep the purists happy, but it was great to see such a crowd riding together, with with no mishaps. I hope Steve 'Tarrantino' Curtis has the footage he requires for his latest blockbuster and that we get a suitable appearance fee. He might want to edit out the childish gestures that Peter Baker and others encouraged me to make - sorry Steve.


Safe riding, Neil

North Downs Nemesis- numbers down but spirits up.

Just 4 of us for this new ride.  Steve c  and I had a bit of a problem with a sat nav. Resulting in us going past the turn off to Hildenborough having to turn off at next junction and go back where we missed the same turnoff a second time , this is before we even got on a bike .

John S and Andy L were patiently waiting for us as we were half hour late.

A brief pause on Hubbard's Hill before the final three mile descent

It was a glorious morning but cold but it was clearly going to warm up in the full sunshine so better to be a little cold at the start rather than having to stuff things in pockets later. Andy had forgotten an important piece of equipment but we won't go into that any further , who needs 2 shoes anyway.

The terrain was gentle for quite a while and very different from last weeks special. The hills did eventually come including Toys hill which we have done before but this time up a different climb to meet it halfway ( the worst part ). There was a long flat stretch  after that and  John commented it was more like riding in France.

We stopped in Cobham for tea and cakes and I thought that is where Chelsea had there training ground but John corrected me that that was Cobham in Surrey.

We had 25 miles to go and the hills were steady climbs rather than steep and we had one really long descent on good roads which was enjoyable. We did have one steep climb 5 miles from the end but after that we had 3 miles down hill back to the start.

This was good ride which we think we would do again. Its always nice to try something different and riding in the sun is what makes a great day out.

We had no punctures and no mechanicals. Andy's very nice bike squeaked twice but otherwise no problems.

No more to say and looking forward to the report of the Audax on the same day which seems to be going up steep hills turning round and coming back down.  It's tough at the top !!

Derek M

BB PART DEUX - EN FRANCAIS

'PARLEZ VOUS ANGLAIS? 'Thwack! '

Tuesday 08:12 - Main Road into Clairac

"Look, I'm not sure this relationship is going anywhere ",  I said


No reply from Vinnie

"I had high hopes that you might make my cycling more interesting, but I really don't think so,quite honestly I think I was better off on my own"

No reply from Vinnie

"OK then, look I'm going to have to 'kick you into touch'"

Where is everybody?

No reply from Vinnie

I've been in France  for two and a half weeks weeks now and was thinking that I might enjoy the company of a' Fun Chum';  but as I haven't found one I  decided to try the virtual opponent on my Garmin (who I named Vinnie) , but we didn't really get on.

 I've been surprised by the lack of other cyclists on the road; not that I mind really, I quite enjoy the solitude - it makes a contrast to the group riding of the BBR etc, and gives me chance to take things in and ride at my own pace.  Having said that,  I have seen some other cyclists who looked French and a bit 'cool', but I thought chasing after them shouting : 'Palez vous anglais?' would be really 'uncool'.

I have become friendly with a guy who walks past my house tout la jours. We have been 'chatting' and he told me he is  81 and has had heart surgery,  'deux valve'. He is the real deal - beret wearing,  and with typical French politeness and formality,  introduced himself as monsieur....(I didn't catch his surname) , after 'flagging' me down to apologise for walking on the wrong side of the road. Upon pressing him he told me his name was Ernest. I, for one,  like this French formality. Even delivery drivers shake your hand,  and when shopping in Carrefour the other day the cashier took my shopping (12 bottles of '2 for 1'  14% wine)  to my car for me without me even asking. Maybe I'm just an old git, but I hate been addressed as 'mate' by a salesperson , or the one that really gets me is 'there you go', as some pimpley youth hands me the item I have just spent a lot of money on (yes,  I'm definitely an ol' b@stard.)

BB appreciates the excellent French mapping system

One of the things I love about cycling here is that it is really easy to navigate ; I keep a small folded map in a sandwich bag in my jersey pocket and just consult it now and again. When I was first here Dermond (who some people may remember from previous blogs) summed it up :

'Jeeze, yer just can't get fecking lost over here, every fecking road leads somewhere '

At the the time he said this I thought he was just being flippant, but I now understand what he meant: every road has a sign saying where it leads and every road leads somewhere; in England I find there are more unsigned roads and some roads do seem to go nowhere in particular. Over here even if a road leads just to a couple of houses it names the houses or names of the people that live there.  Subsequently,  we don't have a road name or house name/number just Mr and Mrs Buss and the name of the village. It must be a nightmare for post men/women.

One of my regular rides is the Grateloup loop. It is actually a very challenging ride - I feel it is similar to the Hard Riders course - about the same distance but with more climbing. Starting from my house there is a swift run down the hill, followed by a right turn and then it is pretty much up hill all the way  to the top of the Valley,  with a few up and downs,  and then an exhilarating 'blast' back down to the valley floor. Half way down is a cemetery which always gives me the creeps - bathed in mist the other morning it could have  been where Michael Jackson filmed 'Thriller'.

Creepy cemetery 

The start of the  drop down from Laparade is like a typical alpine (or Majorcan) descent (although much shorter) ; sharp hairpin bends where you can see down to the next level to check for oncoming cars. Once down to the valley bottom there is  a straight run into Clairac where I collect my breakfast. Tying my goodies to the handlebars I then have only a mile to cycle home. I have to say though that this is the toughest part of the route. Chez  moi is halfway up a really steep hill and then the turn into our house is an even steeper ride over loose gravelly stuff up to the the front door. I have to really grit my teeth and 'go for it' normally the wheels skid and I just about make it and then  flop exhausted over my bike,  gasping for breath. I am well aware that this sounds melodramatic, but trust me it ain't easy. If you carry on past my house to the top of the hill where there lurks a villa (owned by Germans, apparently) you encounter a 'mother' of a climb. It is similar to the top part of Horsewalk, but much worse!  My success rate is only about 50% and I am now quite scared of tackling it all. I have tried to show the hieght gain in the photo taken from my garden , but not very successfully. Incidently, Ernest includes getting to the top as part of his daily itinerary.

The mist enhances the beauty of the French countryside

It is a very beautiful route, sometimes the valley below is clothed in mist and sometimes it's the top of the valley that is misty. I never really see any people, but there is no lack of dogs. They come in all shapes and sizes, but all have one thing in common: they hate me. The other day there was a small dog lying in the middle of the road totally preoccupied in licking something (like they do) , he spotted me and with back leg still pointing forward, he let out an over excited yelp, before rolling forward onto all 4 legs and giving chase.

'Bog off, t@sser ' I said as I guided him away with my left leg.

This part of France is given over to agriculture, so the only animals you see are in private small holdings. There are a few sheep in the garden close to us where the owners also have a sheep dog who spends his days running up and down the other side of the fence trying to round them up - I'm not sure dogs are quite as smart as we give them credit for.

Since spending time here I have been very happy with the response we have received from the natives. You do hear stories from some Brits (probably ones who never been here) :

'They hate us, you know, they call us 'Roast Beefs? '.

So what? We call them 'Frogs'.

Mind you, this description of us is not without foundation.  There is a great deli in Clairac where they do amazing  home cooking that you can take away in a box. Passing by the other day I saw a blackboard outside saying :' Roti Boeuf '.' I fancy that I thought,  but could I, in all seriousness,  as an English man go in there and ask for roast beef?. I had a dilemma; fan the flames of French stereotyping, or walk out with some delicious slices of roast beef? - it was a 'no brainer' :

'Un portion de lasagne et pomme dauphenoise, s'il vous plait, monsieur '

Well, there's such a thing as pride, if I had gone for the beef it would have been like a French man going into' Next' at Glynde Gap and asking for a beret.  Incidentally, the food was lovely and the rhum de ba ba, which I chose for desert, was awesome.

Our neighbours, Jean-Michelle and Kathy,   have been really nice. Jean-Michelle is a drummer in a local band; he has extra large turnups on his jeans and a quiff,  and would make a good arts correspondent for BBC 2. On the other side of us is a farmer  who doesn't really like me : I tried to have a conversation, but he just grunted ; this isn't surprising because he does look a bit like a pig, I think his mum cross bred with a sanglier. Vicki thinks he doesn't like me because he went past our garden on his tracteur last summer just after I had been skinny dipping in our pool (TMI, I know) ,but  I had slipped back into my speedos by then (which would have been even worse!)

I think the secret of not looking a total kn@b over here  is to avoid' launching in' with Parlez vous anglais? at the 'drop of a hat'.

I go to great lengths to avoid this, and other cringe worthy words and phrases, such as :

'Coffee au lait ',' crusty bread' and, worst of all 'Franglais' ( English  with a French accent.)

It is better to attempt something in French even if it sounds rubbish; apparently they find this quite endearing; this also works the other way around, par example :

I was trying to explain to Corrine, the wife of the guy who will be doing our fencing,  that I was concerned about where our water supply was buried and was struggling to find the words. Eventually she understood :

'Oh you mean zee watter peep? '

This had us both in hysterics.

I always keep a potato  in a old sock to remind me to avoid using the ' Parlez... ' phrase. And if I have to use it I normally precede it with some humility, such as:

' I apologise, but I have not yet mastered the intricacies of your most noble and poetic language but' :

'Parlez vous Anglais....'  I then swing the sock  around the back of my head as a reminder! 'Thwack'.

I have had a busy but enjoyable time here and have completed all my 'assigned'
tasks : new terrace, island unit in the kitchen, getting John Deere repaired etc, and have also loved the lack of wind and traffic. I'm really looking forward now  to seeing Vicki and Poppy soon, and catching up with my HSLCC chums.

Peter Buss

Wednesday Chain Gang - Only the Best Brave the Wind

Keri can do the chain as long as he avoids beer and peanuts!

Wednesday Chain Gang - Only the Best Brave the Wind

There was an excellent turn out last night, especially from the ‘mid-field-improvers’ battalion, with more than 20 riders making the start and a few more joining late (Barney and Ivan to name but two). The ultras were a bit thin on the ground and rather reluctant to get started into a stiff westerly wind, with I think just five rolling out at 19:26 and 24 seconds (yes, early, shock)! Stalwart ultras Stuart H and Alex S were not there to whip up enthusiasm and instil discipline, and without Barney at the start there was perhaps an absence of a recognised leader.

I did my best to encourage more to set out, but to no avail. Meanwhile, I became aware of a chuntering in the background - chippy comments and devious digs. I turned around to see Peter Baker and Lord Buckland swapping sarcastic comments:

‘You go Neil, you’re one of them’.
‘Yeah, you’re an ultra, pull your finger out’.
‘Oh, riding with us tonight, is he’?
‘Suddenly, we’re his mates, or so he thinks…’. etc., etc.

I shot them a withering look.  They giggled and off we rolled. I ask you.

Ugh, that wind! It was mostly a solid blast, which has the advantage of no unsettling gusts, but the disadvantage of being harder work. I found myself on the front, but with no-one coming through. Ah, I see, hung out to dry by my new ‘friends’! Simon ‘Gentleman’ Grogan came through and took the front, apologising for the poor behaviour of the ruffians behind him. No need Simon, I am well aware of the club’s hooligan element and their yobbish ways - I’ll remember that the next time they have a puncture. Harrumph!

The group was about 12 strong, riding at an uneven pace, before splitting in two on Cooden Drive. I was nearly dropped on South Cliff, but managed to get back on as we descended the west slope. I then rode with Stewart B, Simon G and I think three riders from Eastbourne whose names I do not know - apologies! We settled into a good group ride, sticking together well. I particularly liked the way one of the Eastbourne guys always made sure the last rider was on his wheel, before moving forward. Great shouts too - clear communication makes such a difference to the group.

We rode onto the marshes, hunkering down as we struggled into the wind, but the efficient rotation meant no-one was on the front for long. We overtook Shirley, cooling down after her earlier power chain gang lap, then rode on consistently to the lay-by, with Patrick P and a group not far behind. A sizeable group was soon assembled and waiting patiently for the rest of the riders to arrive. Barney reported that perhaps five remained on the Marsh, strung-out here and there.

I dithered. Should we stay or should we go? Were people waiting for me to give the off? I was quickly cooling down in the wind and the troops were getting restless. We waited for Steve C to arrive and then went for it. I set what I thought was a brisk pace, but was soon overtaken by the ultras, with Michael M and George W leading the way. I always fancy my chances with a tailwind, but they were too strong for me, pulling out a gap as the wind pushed us over along the lane. The last straggler from the outward leg passed us, smiling and happy to ride alone.

I pushed on hard to stay in touch with the front group, but I couldn’t reach them and I knew I wouldn’t. So, I had another solo return ride, hoofing it along Herbrand Walk with the wind pushing ever harder. Lights swung in behind me - first a car and then a distant group of riders. How close? Were they getting closer?

I came to the right turn by the hotel, braking to avoid a car that swung wide into Herbrand. More traffic delayed me further, before I could get away. I swung left and pedalled hard up the short, steep rise. I heard shouts and looking left I saw a posse of riders. Peter Baker waved a fit and shouted ‘there he is - hunt him down!’, or so I imagined. And so the race was on. Could I escape the following pack, or would I be caught, ripped to bloody shreds and left for cars to press my fleshy remains into the tarmac?

Nothing for it other than to ride away as hard as I could. Head down and push, push push. The wind gave me encouragement, nudging me along that bit faster. But a good group should reach me, if they work together. The bike felt good, the wheels and frame humming as I reached and sustained 40kph or so. The lights came no closer, but I’ve been caught before, so I didn't relax, pressing hard on the slight rise on Cooden, then harder on the slight slope to Cooden Bump, out of the saddle up the slope and hard pedalling on the east side. The run in to the lights is fast to start with, but the road does also rise nearer the park, so the effort needs to be kept up.

A quick look over my shoulder showed I was clear, with the next rider in being Simon G, riding in fast stealth mode to reach me. I made the lights before Peter B and Co could catch me - nice try chaps, better luck next time. Meanwhile, the ultras were cooling down after the fast ride in, discussing the ‘two-up’. Barney was describing the sheer pain of the experience, grinding as fast as he could over the bumpy course with Stuart H, but ultimately not going as fast as they had hoped. George W (an Eastbourne Rovers guest) had faired better, riding with Mark Townsend and finishing just three seconds of first place. Chapeau guys, great riding!

We made an announcement about club membership fees before the start. Many thanks to the majority of you who have already paid. Can anyone still needing to pay now do so please? We are half the price or more of many other clubs and offer, I think, a good variety of rides and experiences for cyclists new and old. Please contact Patrick P f you have a membership query.

Finally, a disclaimer about last week’s short tail piece about ‘The Baron of the Bay’. You may recognise some of the names and places described in the story, but it is just that - a made-up piece written to vary the content of the blog, creating alter-egos for a number of club members who are willing to be affectionately made into fictional characters. It’s all the work of my overactive, slightly mad imagination - nothing more!



Safe riding, Neil

3/4 Mayfield Mayhem- Improver's Special

Good dry, sunny (but still quite cold) weather for the first Improver's Spring special ( Mayfield Mayhem). Out of all the rides in my collection this one has got the second highest hill density at 106 feet per mile (only the mad jack audax has more). We had a good turnout of eight riders ,including for the first time on an improver's ride, Kim brown. Most of the group had ridden out to the start (Robertsbridge) making the ride even harder.

John stretches his legs

To help avoid riders getting lost, I had encouraged everyone to put the route on their gamins but most of the riders had failed to do so (tut tut). Sure enough within a couple of miles Andy had got separated from us when he thoughtfully waited for stragglers , not realising that he was now the last man.We were now out of sight and he didn't know which way we had gone , unfortunately he didn't have anyone's mobile number. Fortunately Facebook came to his rescue as I received notification of his predicament on my mobile and I was able to Facebook him my number.

Our pace was quite slow and steady as we wound our way up towards Wadhurst (500 feet). The roads were mostly dry and devoid of traffic. We were really getting into the swing of things now and enjoying the spring sunshine and the non existent wind.

Kim leads the 'Improvers'

We were not alone, as our route overlapped with riders doing the Velo sportive. We felt rather smug as we were enjoying the same lanes but were not paying twenty pounds for the privilege.

We were shaken out of our serenity when we narrowly missed a massive pot hole spread across the middle of a fast decent towards Eridge. I dread to think what state rider and bike would have ended up in if they had hit this chasm .

Kim suffered our one and only puncture but the combination of rim tyre and tube proved to be difficult and it took the combined efforts of four riders and a big chunk of time to finally get it fixed.

Our pace increased a little as we headed into Ashdown forest. Before long we reached Hartfield . From here there is a 400 feet climb to the top of the forest. There are two options, the famous Kidd's hill (known locally as the wall) or the better surfaced longer but kinder hill past  Chuck's Hatch. Much to my surprise Kim informed me that she had never ridden the wall, unfortunately she will have to save that pleasure for another time as the gpx directed us past Chuck's hatch. I really enjoyed the feeling of getting into a rhythm up this lovely hill and was actually disappointed to reach Kings Standing at the top.

Another hill to grind up

We now enjoyed a superfast three mile decent down to Fairwrap. Some of the car drivers didn't appreciate having to overtake so many cyclists and one driver of a Morgan sports car had his hand permanently pressed down on his horn until he finally disappeared into the distance.

The road through Fairwrap is very narrow and twisty. Great care needs to be taken. Pete was not amused to be nearly taken out by a car coming around a blind bend.This is something we will have to remember for next year .

Riders were now getting tired, hungry and thirsty. Kim was directing us towards a cafe at Mayfield but it never seemed to get any closer, as we carefully wound our way through narrow country lane avoiding puddles and gravelly areas.

Andy enjoys the initial decent from Burwash 

Finally we did arrive at Mayfield and the excellent 'Pink cabbage cafe' . Here we refuelled on cake and coffee before setting out for the final and hardest leg of our journey. To get back to Robertsbridge we would have to tackle the two mile continuous climb from Burwash to Brightling . Derek was really struggling now and just like Captain Oates on Scott's fatal Antarctic expedition, asked us to "leave me outside as I may be gone some time"!
Myself and David are about the same weight and a good match for each other as we ground  up the relentless slopes, leaving the lighter riders to shoot ahead.

At last we reached Brightling, all the hard work was done. From here it was downhill in all directions as we said goodbye to each other and headed for home.

Many thanks to those who came on the first improver's spring special of 2016, the next one is on Sunday April 10- North Down's Nemesis.

Steve C

Wednesday Chain Gang - Gremlins and Gangsters

What a nice surprise - I had forgotten that the clocks changing means the few remaining chain gangs will start in the light. The experience is quite different, the world opening up from a dark tunnel lit by orange street lights into expansive and colourful vistas.

A group of more than 30 riders assembled to sample the mid-week delights of 'the chain'. We were rewarded with warm conditions and little wind, with a fantastic orangey-pink sunset cast across three different types of cloud. I couldn't help grinning as I rode out at the head of a dozen or so ‘ultras' next to the majestic Stuart Hodd, chatting about the two-up this weekend (not that I’m taking part). This is what it’s all about - those long, dark, cold, wet and windy nights throughout winter are a price worth paying for strong legs and lungs in the spring.

It was all going so well. We rolled along Bexhill front, gradually increasing the pace as we hit South Cliff. We swept smoothly down the west slope and turned onto Cooden Drive, accelerating that bit harder as Stuart edged ahead of me. The bike went through dip in the road (a 'whump' as I call them), the rear wheel rising sharply as it came out the other side. The resistance from my backside was sufficient to push the seat tube 3 inches into the frame. There was nothing for it other than to stop.

One way of freeing a carbon TCR post

The second 'supers' group went by me as I stood on the verge, fumbling with allen keys. This is the same carbon seat post that last week was near-impossible to remove from the aluminium frame, but which I shifted with the help of hot water bottles, a metal rod and a mallet. I'd refitted it 'dry' - no fixing paste - and this was the result. Could I tighten it enough to stay in place without crushing the bloody thing? Without my glasses on I could not be sure that I had done enough, but it seemed solid and there was no sound of splintering resin...

The third 'fast' group had by now rolled past and I was faced with being the lantern rouge. I'd really been up for another good go at Spooky Hill and an attempt to stay with the ultras, but now the best I could hope for was to get there before they started back! I find it harder to ride fast without someone else to pace myself against, but I made an effort and made sure that I also enjoyed the twilight ride across the marshes. The roads were dry and the south westerly wind was not too bothersome. At the foot of Spooky Hill, two men were standing on the roof of a van, looking out over the nature reserve, presumably trying to spot a rare bird or two. I felt sure they looked at me and thought 'ah, poor bugger, he's miles behind and trying to catch up', and I guess that was true.

I began preparing myself mentally for the return leg, knowing that the light wind would push us all on a bit faster. We didn't waste much time before starting the return leg and again I took the front with Stuart, determined to stay in the front group the whole way.

It was all going so well. I was spinning out in the small front ring, so I changed up to make full use of the higher gears. Up went the chain, and over, dropping onto the crank and dragging on the road. 'Chain gone' came the shout from Stuart and the group whizzed past me as I pulled into the side. The 'supers' whooshed by moments later and I was impressed by the speed at which they went, and all the more cheesed off that I was at the side of the road again, sure to be the last back. The damn thing was wedged in the crank arm. I got it onto the big ring and pedalled it backwards, only for it to wedge in the derailleur. I pulled it forward, hands now covered in sticky black oil. It came free and I fed it onto the ring again, gently turning the crank to seat it in place. Success, but not another rider in sight!

I pressed on as hard as I could to at least catch the supers. I could see in the distance their flashing rear lights as they topped Spooky Hill, and the lights of another rider a bit further back. I rounded the bend at the nature reserve, speeding past the bird watchers again ('oh look, he's still last, but he doesn't give up does he, bless!), and getting up the slope in time to see another rider just reaching the top. Pushing on, I saw a shiny helmet and realised that I was chasing Shirley down the east slope, passing her as we reached the bend at Normans Bay.

Up ahead, another rider was disappearing around the bend, but that was the last I saw of most of the rest, overtaking Steve Denny (I think) towards the end of the ride. So, the ride was in effect two solo rides on a pleasant evening that should have seen me go much faster. Oh well… I learnt two things: one, that carbon fixing stuff is probably a good idea, and two, that I need to check the cable tension on the front derailleur *sigh*.

Meanwhile, following a number of requests, I humbly present events from a parallel universe:

THE BARON OF THE BAY

Episode 2: Binky gets the Jolly Roger


We pulled into the Star Inn, racked the bikes up alongside the door and stepped into the bar.

"I'm buying" said Stuart and the ultras placed orders for pints of this and that. "And what about you Neil?"

"Er, I don't drink really , I've got no head for it..." I spluttered, before my voice trailed to nothing under the harsh stares of the group.

"Let's try again shall we? I'll ask you what you want and you'll answer with the name of a drink - an alcoholic drink - and then you'll down it, like a good boy. Ok?"

"Yes Stuart" I said solemnly.

"Neil, what would you like to drink?"

"Er, um, I'd like a half, er, I mean a pint of guinness please. Yes, a whole pint. In a glass. Please.”

"There, that wasn't hard, was it?" said Stuart, his steely blue eyes fixing me to the spot. "Now, you sit here at the bar and wait quietly, whilst me and the boys sit over there and have a chat, ok?"

I nodded agreement and sat at the bar, waiting for my drink and for whatever was to come next. I turned to look at the gang as they guffawed with laughter, looking over at me, their shoulders shaking with mirth. I turned back to the bar just as the guinness arrived. Frankly, I was grateful for the chill of the cold black liquid, taking a long deep pull on the glass. As I put it down, I became aware of a sudden hush in the bar and a presence near my left shoulder. I looked round sharply and saw The Baron, dressed head to toe in white linen, with a black leather belt, silk tie, cane and spats.

"Good evening Neil, I'd like a word, if I may?" His voice was quiet with forced politeness and restrained violence.

"Well, actually, I'm not stopping, just having a quick drink and then getting on with the ride, and then, er..." Again, my voice trailed off as he stared at me from under the rim of his fedora. It was a look that could shatter plate glass or crumble concrete. A ghastly smile split his craggy, scarred face, revealing a mouthful of gold and green teeth.

"Shut up, you stupid boy.”

I nodded. The Baron took off his hat and rested it with his cane on the bar. A babycham arrived in a wide-rimmed glass, slice of lemon, cherry on a stick, ice cubes, pink umbrella. I looked around for whatever lady was to drink this, but to my surprise The Baron daintily picked it up, extending his little finger and pursing his lips to take a delicate sip. Any thought of laughing was out of the question, but the effort of not doing so brought me out in a sweat.

“Everything alright Neil, you look a bit warm” he whispered, teeth glinting over the rim of the glass. I nodded. “Good, good. Now, listen, do not speak. I want you to do me a favour.” Again, that smile and those teeth, and this time that unmistakeable smell of rum and tobacco, just like last time. I tried not to breath in.

“A favour Baron, of course, just ask, what can I…” His cane whipped back off the bar towards my face, the silver knob hitting me on the nose, just hard enough to make it bleed, but not to break it. His hand grabbed the back of my neck in an iron grip.

“I said ‘shut up’, didn’t I, so shut it!”

I nodded, unfortunately splashing blood over his jacket and shoes. I looked down and then up into his face, then closed my eyes and waited for the beating. The Baron took a long, deep breath and exhaled slowly. I think he was counting to ten.

“There’s a shipment coming. You’re going to meet it. Are you religious?”

I shrugged. I didn’t want to move my head in case I splashed more blood on him.

“Hare Krishna. You’re a convert. You’ll find out all you need to know on page 12.” He took a slim paperback out of his inside pocket and pushed it roughly into my hands. I looked down at the book, dripping blood onto the front cover, then looked back up to see The Baron disappearing from view towards the back of the bar.

“Oh”, I said, to no-one in particular. I grabbed my drink, sloshing it onto the bar and dribbling bloody saliva into the ebony stout. A hand slapped me hard on the back.

“Oh indeed, Neil - you’re in a bit of a mess, aren’t you?” said Stuart, empty glass in hand. “Time we were off, I’d say - SADDLE UP BOYS!” I followed them out of the bar and to the bikes, feeling woozy from the guinness and the blow to the nose. I tucked the book into the back of my shorts feeling both excitement and dread at what it held in store for me. What was the shipment and where was I to take it? And why Hare Krishna..?

Next episode: Page 12 reveals its secrets…

Safe riding, Neil