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