Improvers Spring Special Season Gets Underway

By tradition every Spring I organise some ‘Improvers Spring Specials’. These are for riders like myself who cannot manage a fast pace but still want the ‘fun’ of climbing/descending a very hilly route outside of our normal stamping grounds.

This year I thought we would start with one of our old favourites ‘The Mayfield Mayhem’. Although this is only 58 miles long, it has the second highest hill density in my collection at 106 feet per mile, which puts it in leg breaker territory.

On advertising this ride I pointed out that the ride would be cancelled for safety reasons if the weather forecast was poor, so all week I checked the forecast every day and on Friday the forecast looked OK, with just a bit of rain early on but dry thereafter. On Sunday morning I woke up to the unmissable sound of rain drops on my bedroom window and a text from Andy asking if the ride was still on. It was too late to cancel, so the answer was yes.

The rain wasn’t too bad once we were all assembled at Robertsbridge railway station. As well as myself there were the familiar faces of Malc D, Ivan, Derek, Steve D, Andy, Colin plus one of Colin’s mates Mike.  It intrigued me to compare what Mike and Andy were riding. Mike was riding a cheap second-hand alloy Giant defy (winter bike) while Andy was riding his immaculate very nice carbon framed Emonda including carbon wheels!

There is no easy warm up on this ride and we started climbing immediately after exiting the car park. Everything was going fine until we approached Snape wood. By now the rain had increased and everything felt dark and gloomy under the thick cloud cover. The lanes round this area are very twisty and the Garmins were getting confused. This was due to combination of not enough track points plus poor satellite signal leading to errors. To make matters worse Andy was using a brand new Garmin 820 and didn’t know how to turn off route recalculation. We kept literally going in circles plus Ivan and Steve got separated from the rest of us. Who knows what new rider Mike thought of us all. In the end we had to go old school, ignore the Garmins and trust Malc’s common sense instinct to get us back on route and find our missing friends.

Miraculously this worked, my Garmin showed we were back on route and after a few miles there was Steve and Ivan waiting for us. It was great to be all back together, but with only half the group having the route on their Garmins I wasn’t so sure we could manage to stay that way.

We will all pretty soggy by now but after a winter adapting to the cold, I felt warm enough. We were now moving into Ashdown forest and the climb up to Kings Standing. Colin wanted us to take a detour to the Kidd’s Hill climb to the top but I thought it best to stick to the longer smoother and more gradual climb past Coleman’s Hatch . This is one of my favourite climbs. It’s around 4.5 miles long and a bit of a grind, plenty of time for us to become very spread out. Last ones at the top were Malc and Derek. Derek said he didn’t realise how many hills there were and Malc said he felt cooked (too many miles during the week) they said they couldn’t go on and were going to catch a train back home.

Hours of cleaning await Andy!

The rest of us pressed on towards our planned café stop at Mayfield. This was only 13 miles but it seemed endless with another steep climb around every corner. The roads were absolutely filthy and full of wet loose gravel but at least there weren’t too many potholes. My rear brake blocks were getting dangerously thin and Andy’s carbon wheels were making alarming screeching sounds under the constant downhill breaking .Despite having good endurance from my winter riding  my leg muscles were in pain from all the unaccustomed climbing, this was becoming a real suffer fest but masochistically I was secretly enjoying the sense of adventure . Ivan however was not having a good time, he was wet and cold and said if there was a way out on a local train he would take it.

After a stop, myself and Andy got separated from the others but weren’t concerned as we knew everyone was headed for Mayfield. Approaching the town we saw a café and decided to pull in to see if there were there. Unfortunately Andy misjudged the curb and took a low speed crash. Fortunately rider and beloved Emonda emerged only a little scarred. There was no sign of the others and desperate for sustenance we took the Main road into Mayfield and the correct café. What a relief! Two lattes and a big slice of chocolate cake restored me to more or less normal. The rain had stopped and the sun was managing to partially break through the thinning cloud cover, even the Garmins were now happy.

The last ten miles were great fun with wider drier roads. Our only problem was that Ivan’s single speed chain decided to snap close to the end but Ivan managed to ride it like a scooter and arrived back only a few minutes after we did.

Despite the adversities there were smiles all round, hopefully this will set us up for the other forthcoming ‘Specials’ .

Steve C

A Weekend in Hell (Pete loses his bottle)

8:30am Friday morning and Duncan arrives spot on time in his Peugeot, a name evocative of Simpson, Merckx, LeMond, Millar, Yates, Roche… unfortunately the slightly battered silver estate didn’t quite live up to the romance of the bygone eras. After a brief stop in Pett and we were loaded, three amigos, three bikes, and with the aid of the Eurotunnel and possibly Sue’s better half we were at were at the Stab Velodrome just after lunchtime.
Roubaix is blessed with both an indoor and outdoor track something that no town with less that 100,000 residents can boast in the UK. The later named after Jean Stablinski winner of the Vuelta in 1958 but more famous for introducing La Trouée d’Arenberg to the Queen of classics in 1968.

Pete registered quickly having opted for the medium route, Duncan and I had a 15 minute wait as we were going the full distance and as would seem befitting had a longer queue. Having completed registration Pete was keen to leave immediately as he wanted to try out the cobbles before the event. But eager eyed Duncan spotted he’d changed his top and was now wearing a Paris Roubaix Challenge T-Shirt. After a brief exchange along the lines of ‘I texted you both, if you wanted a T-Shirt and you didn’t respond and now we’ll have to queue up again and I want to ride my bike….’. A mention of a crop top being more fitting than a T-Shirt for those doing the medium length route didn’t help the situation. 10 minutes later we all had matching T-Shirts, calm had been restored and were ready to head off.

Dropping our bags at the hotel, a quick change and we were ready for the a reconnaissance ride 10 miles out with the return leg via the last 5 sections of Pavé.

Sector 5 – Bourgheeles à Wannehain only 1.1km but 4* - the cobbled sections are given * ratings based on their quality (or should that be lack of quality) and length, 1 being the easiest and 5 the hardest. Hands burning, legs aching, and heart rate hitting the mid 160s we’d completed our first section of Pavé, but it seems are extensive adaptations (Pete double wrapped bar tape, Duncan 30mm tubeless tires, me 38mm tubeless tires – to be referred to as Tractor tires from this point on) hadn’t necessarily completely smoothed out the cobbles. 

Next up Carefour de l’Arbre 2.1km and the full 5* and often the point where the Pros make a break for the finish. Let’s just say ait was at the end of this sector we we’re greeted by Didi the Devil, and he didn’t seem at all out of place. So anybody got any tips – Apparently the hoods are to be avoided, the tops or the drops being more comfortable – well you wouldn’t want your hands in the place where you have most control over your bike when you’re bouncing around would you? Apart from that the only other tip was to power through – apparently the idea is to glide over the top, my experience was the major advantage this brings, is to get it over quicker. Using the now shared knowledge we successfully navigated the remaining cobbled sectors and headed straight to the bar. It was clear tomorrow would be a long day.

4am and Duncan and my alarms go off in stereo - time to get up and enjoy a savoury breakfast of sausage rolls and scotch eggs curtesy od M&S. In the hotel foyer there’s an assortment of cyclist all looking half asleep and nervous of what’s to come. Being someone who likes to prepare I’ve plotted a route to the coach pick-up point, a shopping centre so set off smugly. However, this is short lived as having arrived at the shopping centre it’s clear this isn’t the right  shopping centre and there isn’t a coach insight. Fortunately, there are lots of cyclist all heading in the same direction, so we tag along and at 5am we are greeted by 24 coaches and 8 lorries. Bikes are carefully loaded in the lories on 2 levels with a layer of cardboard placed between each bike, leaving riders to make their way to their allocated coach. Time to get some sleep - well it would be if our compatriot would stop texting to say how grate the scrambled eggs and bacon are he’s having for breakfast. Arriving in Busigny at about 7:30 it’s 8:20 before we’ve both got are bikes and I’ve made a trip to the portaloo to avoid a repeat of the 312 pre-start Dumoulin. 

Note: Whilst the Pros ride 257km from Compiègne the Long Sportive Route is a mere 172km but still manages to cram in all 29 cobbled sectors and their 53km of bone shaking madness.

A pact is made, it’s not closed roads and the cobbles are dangerous, so lets’ ride sensibly and enjoy the day – we set off to ‘Hoghway to Hell’ playing on the PA, spot a group ahead and immediately give chase. The group is hammering along at 25mph then turn north, get more benefit from the tailwind and the pace increases to 30mph – Yes we’re pacing ourselves well! In no time at all we arrive at the first section of Pavé. 

Let’s get this right, Hands on the flats gripping the bars as if they are a budgerigar – tight enough that it can’t fly away, but gentle enough not to crush it. Head for the crown of the road!? and press on hard. It works – it’s not exactly comfortable but it’s bearable and I’m skipping along at a fair old lick. The route is littered with bidons and already some have stopped to mend punctures. Oh no - slower rider in front so have to leave the crown to overtake, but here is where the tractor tires pay dividends, even off line with 38mm at 40psi you have grip (in the dry) and some cushioning. Bugger the chains off – where to stop can’t pull to the side people riding in the gutters, we’re on a slight downhill gradient so roll on until it’s safe to pull off on to the grass verge. Put the chain back on whilst Duncan passes then back on the bike and we’re off again.

At the end of the cobbles Duncan and I regroup and look for a new group to shelter in for the next road section. This pattern repeats itself for about 50km, but annoyingly must chain has come off twice more already. We stop at the feed station – I’d drunk one of my bidons on the coach and the other was now nearly empty, so whilst I refill, Duncan tucks into a waffle or two. The temperature is rising so having started in shorts, ss-shirt arm warmers and gilet, I’m now gilet less and working on tan lines on both legs and arms.

Apart from losing the chain it’s all going. well I ask Duncan if he’s had any issues with his and he admits to it come off the big ring a couple of times but being Di2 he’s been able to press button and magically ping it back on. My SRAM 1x11 set-up has a clutch in the rear derailleur and wide narrow teeth on the chain ring to keep the chain in place without a front derailleur – it seems SRAM (USA based) hadn’t reckoned on French cobbles when designing this set-up. However, the problem only seems to happen when on downhill sections when freewheeling so the answer would have to be to just keep pedalling.

We’re making good time averaging well over 18mph as we tick off one section off Pavé after another. The mines on the left indicate we are approaching the most famous sector of all ‘Trouée D’Arenberg’ but the level crossing barriers are down so we must wait for a train to pass before we can enter. Oh no what’s this we’re being cordoned on to the uneven tarmac path on the right instead of being allowed to ride the legendary cobbles. 200m later we’re directed on to the cobbles – Yippee!?. Being tree lined they’re damp and very slippery and yes there’s a rider on the ground in front. At this point the medium route which starts in Roubaix joins the long route so there are plenty of cobble virgins trying to pick their way slowly along the trench. The problem is this means we have to ride slowly as overtaking in Arenberg is even more treacherous than the other sectors, so we settle in for a bumpy journey through the forest. All to soon we are out the other side and back on proper tarmac and bathing in sunshine.

We keep the pace up and despite the cobbles, which by now have taken their toll and our bodies ache all over (never before have my ribs hurt on a bike ride) and we arrive and the final feed station. It’s only 30km from the finish but we both want a rest – Well I do, and Duncan agrees to join me. After feasting on more waffles we set off again and are soon on the familiar sectors from Friday’s reconnaissance ride, pushing on is no longer an option so it’s a rough a rickety journey on the cobbles that remain. After fighting with the traffic and being held at every sets of lights finally we make the turn into the Velodrome. I decide to head for the top of the banking and certainly more aided by gravity than sprinting power roll across the line just ahead of Duncan.

Pete is there to greet us having finished considerably earlier, he’s bemoaning the loss of bidon and his seat pack both casualties of the cobbles. Over a couple of beers he explains the best bit of his ride was the roads from Roubaix  out to Arenberg, as he’d set off with a fast group and had wheel sucked all the way to the Trench, Duncan and I agreed that the well earned beers were the best part of ours.

Sunday arrived with a slightly sore head and we drive back to Arenberg settle in in front of the big screen spend the day, lapping up the atmosphere, drinking beer (apart from our DD – Duncan), watch the Pros hit the cobbles at 50kph plus and head home.

Roubaix is just outside Lille about 1½ hours drive from Calais. If you’ve never seen the Pros race go the atmosphere and spectacle is amazing. If you want to ride the same roads your idles do – do the sportive – it’s a great event and one I’ll always rember.

Footnote: Unfortunately Belgian cyclist Michael Goolaerts of Veranda's Willems-Crela

fell on the second set of Cobbles during Sunday’s race and died later of a Cardiac arrest. Our thoughts go to his Teammates, friebds and family.

Patrick Piper

PART DEUX - BBR Sat 31st Mar

PART DEUX - BBR Sat 31st Mar 

'Or should it be called the BBBBR?' 
  
Thurs 30th Mar, 15:21 Queens Mary's Hospital - Sidcup 

'It's probably best that you accept them as part of you, because, unfortunately,  you're stuck with them now. Although your brain will adjust and you won't notice them'

The very lovely lady doctor  eye specialist was explaining my condition. It's known as PVD - Posterial Vitreous Displacement (not to be confused with PVA - which is a bonding agent much loved by plasterers.) It came on as I was up a ladder doing some refurbishment on a bathroom of a flat in Bexleyheath. At first I thought it was just a migraine with extra special effects: blobs and cobwebs, really wierd.

'Can I still go cycling?' I asked.

'Just carry on as usual', was the welcome response.

09:34 Di Paulos

'So, anyway, the upshot is,  I've got floater problems - and my eyes are not that great either!'

I was relaying to some of the assembled group, including Neil, Stewart and Tom,  my experience at Queen Mary hospital two days earlier, and couldn't resist the' crack'.

I could see no one was that impressed so I took a slurp of my coffee and looked around  to see if there was any sign of Nick.

We've bonded lately and he gives me a welcome push whenever he sees me struggling. Two weeks ago he gave me a shunt along the Herstmonceux road and having got me up to 20 mph I was able to maintain the momentum such that Terry struggled to keep up.

'Wow, what got into you? You never go that fast when you come out with me on a Tuesday!'

Alas, there was no sign of Nick, but I was pleased to see Patrick - who gave me a big smile.

I offered the usual: 'What was the tiff over this time?' reference to Peter Baker's (the other 'Fun Chum' - same events, same bike, same clothes, same breakfast, same mannerisms, similar hairstyle, etc. etc. ) absence.

`No we haven't fallen out, he doesn't like the wet weather`, he explained.

We were starting  to gather outside when I was pleasantly surprised to see Steve D.
Now that 'Sausagegate', has become just a distant memory, we get on famously.

'Hello, stranger, haven't seen you for ages?' I said

'Nah, done me collar bone, while I was skiing - some twat crashed into me!'

I'm not sure from what he said about the ensuing fracas that he came off the worst!

I was also pleasantly surprised to see Henning again. Hopefully he will become a regular - we can't have too many celebs in our little club. I didn't really notice him until I eased past him whilst tackling the 'South Cliff Slog ' - you know the Cat 4 climb at the start, just after the bend?

'Typical bank holiday weather', I said

'Yes, I believe so'

Well, I don't have much to brag about these days, and anyway I think he was conserving energy as he dropped me with ease on the Beast of Boreham Street.

Bearing in mind the excessive rain we've had lately, it was decided that turning left at the Pear Tree Lane junction would be a drier option than straight on.

We regrouped, as usual, at the junction of Straight Lane and Hooe Road and then pushed onto Boreham Street.

Towards the top Neil and Nigel breezed past me, whilst casually chatting (Very reminiscent of the racing jockey portrayed by Harry Enfield in the Fast Show. ) 

At the top we had the usual - 'Who's going short and who's going long discussion'.

My knees are still not great so I stuck to short. Accompanied by Sue, Henning and Andy C.

Patrick, Duncan  and a few of the others also did short, but shot off at a rapid pace, probably part of their training for Paris - Roubaix (although there aren't many cobbles on the BBR, the entrance to Chilley Farm is a bit gravely - best to exercise some caution. )

I sat at a table with Patrick, Duncan and Nigel who were reliving some of their past glories.

'So what do you think is the hardest event you have ever done then?'

I posed this question to all three of them.

'Without a doubt I would say Majorca 312', said Patrick.

'What about you, Duncan`, I said.

' Well, funnily enough, I would say, on balance, without stretching the point too far, and without prejudice, I would probably say, even though it has nothing to do with cycling, that it has to be The Welsh 3000s'

(for those who are unaware, it is a pointless exercise of walking up all the mountains in Wales that are above 3000 feet, I've also done it - and regretted it. Henning wasn't sitting at our table, but if he was he probably would have said, quite rightly  : 'And vy would anybody vish to do such a thing' )

Anyway, from what Duncan was saying, it seemed that  a lot of the issues were political; he was doing it with Derek and this was pre Smashy and Nicey days.

'And what about you, then, Nige?'

'Well, my worst event nearly caused me to break my collar bone!'

'Oh, was that the 312 also?', I said, all agog.

'Oh, no, not at all. I was in the Aldi sale last year, and me and this foul old woman both grabbed at a pair of jeggings that I was hoping to use as leggings. We had such a tug-of-war that I nearly pulled my arm out of its socket. Mind you I won -  although it did stretch the gusset a bit.  Actually, I'm wearing them today. What do you think?.
I looked under the table.

'And what exactly are you wearing on your feet?'

Oh, my dad gave me his old rugger boots, and I've cut them down for cycling. (see photo. )

'Rather nice aren't they?'

Apologies for severe lack of proper cycling content, but love it as much as I do, there is only so much that I can say about the BBR.
(it was suggested by someone, who shall remain nameless, that it should be called the BBBBR - B@ll@cks Banter and Bacon Butty ride.

Peter Buss