“How much further?”
“Are there anymore hills?”
“I’ve no idea where I am.”
All this before we even left Normans Bay. I ask you, really. The two Geolexics in the group were behaving quite differently; one with calm maturity, the other like a headless chicken. Who is who will be come clear as the story of the ride unfolds.
Seven riders, with the late arrival of Nigel T, made for a good size group to test a new Pre-BBR Special route, taking a 50km ride that as much as possible avoided A roads and traffic. Our destination was the Velo House cafe and cycle shop in Tunbridge Wells. Having sampled a breakfast there in May I was keen to go again. I planned the route using Strava’s route planner, and very good it is too (www.strava.com/routes). Needless to say, all but two of the group loaded the route onto their Garmin, the person most in need of directions having been ‘too busy’ to do this.
Steve Denny rode past us at Normans Bay. “Are you joining us?” I shouted. “No, I’m not sociable” came the reply. Mal C made a robust reply to this as Tom N looked on. Steve changed his mind and joined us, presumably charmed by the rude response he had received. Newcomer Zac looked confused. “It’s quite simple, older males display affection by insulting each other.” He now looked dubious and I gave up explaining; just where do you start?
Greetings banter and bandinage finally complete, we rolled off for the simple flat start across the marshes, riding 12km or so through reed-lined lanes turning from winter brown to summer green as the new growth surges towards the sun. We kept our surges to a minimum, the aim being to stay together and to wait for each other when hills or other obstacles delayed us. The first slope of any significance was Cricketing Lane, called so for no reason that I can discern. We paused at the top and I explained the route.
“What did you say - where’s that?”
“We turn left at Cowbeech for Hammer Lane, then ride through Warbleton.”
“I’ve never been to Cowbeech.”
“Peter (for it was he), yes you have, you’ve ridden through it many times.”
“No I haven’t, honestly, never, I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about” and so on.
“Just be quiet and follow the rest of us.”
The gentler hills on the ride start from Cowbeech, rising steadily to the halfway point of the ride at Cade Street, before crossing the A265 and making a long, fast descent to a few kilometres south of Mayfield. From here, there is some serious ‘uppage’, greeted by some of the group with some equally serious ‘moanage’ at the top of the first climb.
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| Such healthy food |
“You never said there would be hills.”
“Peter (for it was he again), where would one ride in East Sussex and not encounter a hill or two?”
“Well, you never said anything. Are there anymore hills?”
“Yes, there are more hills.”
“How many.”
“I DON”T KNOW!”
Nigel, the voice of reason, stepped in at this point to prevent violence.
“Peter, I think that if you look at the elevation profile on my Garmin, you will see that there are five more significant hills on the ride, as well a number of more minor climbs”, said Nigel pleasantly.
“Eh?”
Strava tells me there are more than 800 metres to climb from Norman’s Bay to Tunbridge, most of that over 38km or so. Moderately stretching, I think. We pressed on and indeed more hills were encountered. The hill from Tidebrook to the B2100 is a category four climb, more because of length than steepness, although I was quite grateful for the compact chainset. Peter made good progress up this hill, perhaps spurred on by the thought of passing Davina McCall’s mansion.
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| All smiles for Malc |
The sun had come out some time since and we basked in the light and warmth of June, gliding downhill past a blur of green, white and yellow, then grunting uphill with more time to appreciate the flowers and grasses of the verge, blurred now by the sweat dripping into our eyes. Ouch! The ride had a definite rhythm - downhill, uphill, downhill, uphill (repeat). There were no flat stretches, just the occasional slightly less steep bit here and there.
“How much further?”
“Not far Peter, maybe ten miles.” I lied, cruelly. Nigel, Mr Mature, stepped in again.
“Peter, my Garmin says we have approximately 6.6 miles left to go.”
“Eh?”
The route felt counter-intuitive at this point, as we passed a number of signs for Tunbridge Wells, but pressed on to the north east to avoid the busier roads. It adds very little to the route and works well; we saw little traffic on the upward leg. Once into Tunbridge itself, we met the usual traffic and encountered more pot holes and rough surfaces than we had in the country lanes. At this point, we were let down by Strava route planning. It said ‘straight on’, but this would take us through a pedestrianised area. We tacked left to the main roads, then right uphill to the A26. Velo House is just at the top, on the left by the roundabout.
Mal kept cycling, heading steadily towards London. Peter said “are we there yet?” It is not easy looking after Geolexics, I can tell you. Cycling locks are provided and we headed indoors for some posh Tunbridge nosh.
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| Tom tucks into breakfast |
“I’m not paying that for an egg bap” shouted Peter at the poor waiter, having misinterpreted my line about ‘exotic Tunbridge Wells prices’ as something to do with lap dancers. He retired, grumbling, to the back of the cafe. Having made our orders, we joined him.
“Seriously, this is a shit cafe - there are screaming kids here, there is noise and the prices, well, the prices are outrageous, I mean who pays that for an egg bap, they’re only 2 shillings and 6 pence at the Pevensey Bakery, there is no carpet, I need a mortgage to eat here…”
I cut him short. “Peter, it is 2016, not 1956. I did warn you.”
“I’m not moaning, let’s just get that straight, but really, where the hell are we anyway - have we been abducted?” At this point, I rather wish I had been.
We all agreed that the coffee was excellent and, as our various breakfasts appeared at the table, we agreed also that the food was delicious. Peter was slathering over the meals, clearly starving but too proud to order. I offered him a fried egg. “Shove your egg” was the reply. How rude!
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| The Baron Does Not Look Happy |
“Your beans look congealed.”
“They are not congealed - they are artisan beans, handmade here in Tunbridge to a family recipe dating from 1547, they are delicious.”
“Those mushrooms look, well, odd to me. I mean, I don’t like mushrooms anyway.”
“Good, because you’re not having any of mine.”
I just wanted to eat in peace. I turned to Zac and we discussed the merits of vegetarianism, such as being slimmer, cleverer, better looking and more attractive to the opposite sex than most of our meat-eating friends. Zac commented that he generally felt less aggressive too.
“What are those potato things..?” chipped in Peter.
“Yes Zac, I agree”, I mumbled, somehow finding my hand wandering towards the cutlery with the idea of attacking Peter. Mal intercepted the knife thrust with a Ju Jitsu move.
“No, seriously, what are they, are they nice? See, I’m not moaning, I’m just asking a question.”
Having had a second coffee, the immediate exit from the Velo House was improvised to take account of not having plotted the return journey. Various attempts were made to reverse the route on Garmins. Mine failed to do this in any way that I could understand, so I relied on my unerring sense of direction to lead the group swiftly and safely away from the ‘Royal Borough’. Tom had drunk one macchiato too many and became a bit ‘chippy’, telling me off for over-communication. I thought I was being helpful, but apparently not and this was upsetting him. I was clearly doing something wrong, having had words with Peter and Tom, so I asked the voice of measured reason where he thought I was going wrong.
“Two things Neil: everything you say and everything you do.” Well, that was me told and I had the feeling I'd heard that somewhere before.
It was all going so well, and then two smart-arses had to ruin it by saying ‘I think we should do this old-school, without the Garmins’ (me and Nigel). And so, within 30 seconds, all but one of the group were off-route. Mal C was nowhere to be seen. We immediately assumed that he was having a Geolexic episode and would turn up. We phoned him: ‘where are you’? ‘I’m on a hill’ came the reply. Great.
It eventually penetrated our thick collective skulls that perhaps Mal was on the right road and we were not. We retraced our steps, found a turning that looked promising and soon found Mal C too. He had worked out how to reverse the route on his Garmin and was not at all lost. We congratulated him on the excellent progress made in the treatment of his condition and rolled onwards and upwards…
We paused at Cade Street, the worst of the climbs now behind us.
“Will there be anymore hills at all, I mean, any at all?”
I felt strangely lightheaded, as if I might collapse and weep at any moment. I took control of my emotions and explained, with infinite patience, that ‘there would be more hills, but the worst of the hills were now done’.
“After all, you must know where you are?” I said, with hopeful upward inflection.
“Er, no, I’ve no idea” and I do believe he meant it.
After that, we blasted back to Normans Bay at a good pace, with Nigel beasting us across the marshes, the group reduced to him, me and Zac (Steve stayed in Tunbridge, having fallen in love with one of the waitresses; Tom branched off for Eastbourne; and Mal and Peter were doing their own thing). We held our own for a while, but Nigel’s superior strength shone through and we were left floundering. My legs, pummelled by the hills of south Tunbridge, were done in. Thankfully, I had a slow puncture and so could not ride on with Zac and Nigel to Galley Hill, turning instead for home at the Bexhill traffic lights. I made it to within 1km of home before I had to walk.
This is a great route with a bit of everything - flat blasts, rolling slopes, serious hills and very fast descents (I topped out at over 43mph on one hill). The Velo House is well worth a visit and the climbs provide a good challenge.
Safe riding, Neil
