. . . . was thought quite shocking, but nowadays we make do with Sharon's slipping knee-warmers towards the end of a ride. A long ride as it turned out.
But first we had to start off. Justin outlined the route to a collection of blank faces, while Glenn Morris dismantled his handlebar/stem interface and made a few crucial adjustments.
"OK Everybody? Right, off we go then" cried Justin. Glenn was still tightening his bars - but we caught up with everyone before they crossed mount road. Heading up towards Rougham the leaders' hands went out for a left turn, and someone panicked and applied their brakes. To the surprise of everyone and the alarm of Tiger Tony Panting who (so it was reported) threw himself onto the grass verge with arms ahead in the now-banned Superman position. I shall be copying this to the UCI - the Wednesday Ride may well have its licence revoked. And all because of an incautious application of brakes. Barely half a mile later, just past Rougham Church I hit a pothole and, with a loud 'click' my handlebars dropped about 6". More shouts and confusion as everyone attempted to stop in an orderly fashion. Matt lent me an allen key (that reminds me that I must go and check the torque on the bolts - Pyrenees next week, don't want a mishap do we?)
We did the now familiar route up to Lt Welnetham and down to Sicklesmere then climbing through Gt W and left onto Straight Rd. Nice steady pace. All together.
When eventually we tackled the Cote de Stansfield and the Col de Poslingford, the group de-grouped, and I did my usual fading on the steepest bits. Then, as the gradient eased just a little bit I found that I was passing those who had previously passed me (obviously they weren't trying, taking a breather) I felt like the opportunist in Le Tour who sees that the Schlecks can't decide when to attack, and Cadel and Contador or just watching - gaining by default. As I neared the Poslingford sign, I saw Ron Fisher (last remnant of the early break) stop just 30 yds short of the sign for a comfort break - so what would you do? I put in a bit of an effort to guarantee the prime. Peter Heath wasn't on the ride, so no red card, and anyway, there wasn't anyone near enough to turn it into a sprint. Shortly after this minor coup Jonathan drew alongside to point out the minor infraction of the rules. We had a conversation. No more will be said.
Turning right at the foot of the descent from Poslingford, Justin slipped in a surprise couple of moves (a bit like the more gripping parts of the game 'Mornington Crescent' on the radio show 'I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue', based on fantasy route planning through London). So we went left (though actually straight on) then second left up to Hundon - then the daring move of a left to descend Chimney Street, through Brockley Green and Keddington to then cross the A143 to Gt Wratting (I once acquired to half-Siamese kittens from a farm near Wratting - could have been Birdlip or Mousehole, but those would just have been silly).
The lumpy road through Thurlows (Great and Little), Bradley (just Great) and Burrough (Green) caused the group to split into three - and at one point four or five. There were two reasons, or maybe three; anyway amongst the reasons were traffic (cars and the occasional truck overtaking part of the group so that when they moved on they left a gap) and the lumps which, if they coincided with the traffic just mentioned caused even longer gaps. The small group at the very front had several advantages, the traffic just went straight past, being on the front means you don't have to change pace all the time and by definition they were stronger anyway. This left the other three groups to variously chase, close gaps, slip off the back, go to the back to see who was missing then fail to get back up to where you started (having discovered that the rear was already covered by the ever-reliable Mark Saunders). By the time were singled-out along the A1061 into Newmarket (very, very busy) we were almost all together which was altogether better. The break was still ahead, but Phil and Paul were predicting that they would be caught at the tea stop (a newly-introduced UCI feature which it was hoped would make Grand Tour riding more interesting and relevant to the 21st century, in the manner of Triathlon with its transitions). We telescoped into a single entity by Newmarket High St with all its traffic lights. This sorted the potential cycle-couriers from the tourists and provided the variety and interest of chasing to get back on (why do we bother when it's only five miles to tea time?). Phil and Paul's predictive abilities proved (once again) correct. At tea o'clock we were all together at last. La Hogue coped well, despite having already been invaded by yummy mummies with offspring climbing out of high chairs and/or screaming and manoeuvring ludicrously large prams between the tables and chairs. At least here there is enough room - plus the great outdoors - unlike in the old days at No1 Delicatessen in Clare when the screaming and shouting was never more than a foot away. And the children were quite noisy too.
Jonathan didn't stay to tea, having pressing business to attend to, leaving the rest of us layabouts and parasites to munch and slurp our calorie replacements. Just replacements? You're kidding.
Back via the marginally more direct route of Kennett, Herrinsgwell and Tuddenham, then at Cavenham the Thurston-biased nature of Wednesdays asserted itself with a left to Lackford (Ron Back took the Bury route for Stanningfield) then West Stowe - Brockley (not Green) - Ingham - Ampton - Gt Livermere - Gt Barton (Ron Fisher took the right at the top of the hill) and Thurston. By this point, the indefategable Tiger Tony Panting had covered no fewer than 107 miles, having left home at 06.30 to get an extra 40 miles in. Yes, it's official, he's going to ride the ECCA 12 hour. And so is Jonathan, who has a complex plan to lift the (pre -2nd World War) Club 200 mile record on the way to completing his first '12'. Now I'm not a lawer, and Jonathan is, so I'm sure he's got it right, BUT, surely the fastest Club '12' would implicitly be the Club '200' on count-back (where the '12' exceeds 200 miles, natch). So to be on the safe side, Jonathan - make certain that you lift the '12' record as well (whatever it is).
Justin led us a merry ride through Suffolk and (even) Cambridgeshire, and a good ttime was had by all. My total was 75 miles. Must go now - off to France. SJH
But first we had to start off. Justin outlined the route to a collection of blank faces, while Glenn Morris dismantled his handlebar/stem interface and made a few crucial adjustments.
"OK Everybody? Right, off we go then" cried Justin. Glenn was still tightening his bars - but we caught up with everyone before they crossed mount road. Heading up towards Rougham the leaders' hands went out for a left turn, and someone panicked and applied their brakes. To the surprise of everyone and the alarm of Tiger Tony Panting who (so it was reported) threw himself onto the grass verge with arms ahead in the now-banned Superman position. I shall be copying this to the UCI - the Wednesday Ride may well have its licence revoked. And all because of an incautious application of brakes. Barely half a mile later, just past Rougham Church I hit a pothole and, with a loud 'click' my handlebars dropped about 6". More shouts and confusion as everyone attempted to stop in an orderly fashion. Matt lent me an allen key (that reminds me that I must go and check the torque on the bolts - Pyrenees next week, don't want a mishap do we?)
We did the now familiar route up to Lt Welnetham and down to Sicklesmere then climbing through Gt W and left onto Straight Rd. Nice steady pace. All together.
When eventually we tackled the Cote de Stansfield and the Col de Poslingford, the group de-grouped, and I did my usual fading on the steepest bits. Then, as the gradient eased just a little bit I found that I was passing those who had previously passed me (obviously they weren't trying, taking a breather) I felt like the opportunist in Le Tour who sees that the Schlecks can't decide when to attack, and Cadel and Contador or just watching - gaining by default. As I neared the Poslingford sign, I saw Ron Fisher (last remnant of the early break) stop just 30 yds short of the sign for a comfort break - so what would you do? I put in a bit of an effort to guarantee the prime. Peter Heath wasn't on the ride, so no red card, and anyway, there wasn't anyone near enough to turn it into a sprint. Shortly after this minor coup Jonathan drew alongside to point out the minor infraction of the rules. We had a conversation. No more will be said.
Turning right at the foot of the descent from Poslingford, Justin slipped in a surprise couple of moves (a bit like the more gripping parts of the game 'Mornington Crescent' on the radio show 'I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue', based on fantasy route planning through London). So we went left (though actually straight on) then second left up to Hundon - then the daring move of a left to descend Chimney Street, through Brockley Green and Keddington to then cross the A143 to Gt Wratting (I once acquired to half-Siamese kittens from a farm near Wratting - could have been Birdlip or Mousehole, but those would just have been silly).
The lumpy road through Thurlows (Great and Little), Bradley (just Great) and Burrough (Green) caused the group to split into three - and at one point four or five. There were two reasons, or maybe three; anyway amongst the reasons were traffic (cars and the occasional truck overtaking part of the group so that when they moved on they left a gap) and the lumps which, if they coincided with the traffic just mentioned caused even longer gaps. The small group at the very front had several advantages, the traffic just went straight past, being on the front means you don't have to change pace all the time and by definition they were stronger anyway. This left the other three groups to variously chase, close gaps, slip off the back, go to the back to see who was missing then fail to get back up to where you started (having discovered that the rear was already covered by the ever-reliable Mark Saunders). By the time were singled-out along the A1061 into Newmarket (very, very busy) we were almost all together which was altogether better. The break was still ahead, but Phil and Paul were predicting that they would be caught at the tea stop (a newly-introduced UCI feature which it was hoped would make Grand Tour riding more interesting and relevant to the 21st century, in the manner of Triathlon with its transitions). We telescoped into a single entity by Newmarket High St with all its traffic lights. This sorted the potential cycle-couriers from the tourists and provided the variety and interest of chasing to get back on (why do we bother when it's only five miles to tea time?). Phil and Paul's predictive abilities proved (once again) correct. At tea o'clock we were all together at last. La Hogue coped well, despite having already been invaded by yummy mummies with offspring climbing out of high chairs and/or screaming and manoeuvring ludicrously large prams between the tables and chairs. At least here there is enough room - plus the great outdoors - unlike in the old days at No1 Delicatessen in Clare when the screaming and shouting was never more than a foot away. And the children were quite noisy too.
Jonathan didn't stay to tea, having pressing business to attend to, leaving the rest of us layabouts and parasites to munch and slurp our calorie replacements. Just replacements? You're kidding.
Back via the marginally more direct route of Kennett, Herrinsgwell and Tuddenham, then at Cavenham the Thurston-biased nature of Wednesdays asserted itself with a left to Lackford (Ron Back took the Bury route for Stanningfield) then West Stowe - Brockley (not Green) - Ingham - Ampton - Gt Livermere - Gt Barton (Ron Fisher took the right at the top of the hill) and Thurston. By this point, the indefategable Tiger Tony Panting had covered no fewer than 107 miles, having left home at 06.30 to get an extra 40 miles in. Yes, it's official, he's going to ride the ECCA 12 hour. And so is Jonathan, who has a complex plan to lift the (pre -2nd World War) Club 200 mile record on the way to completing his first '12'. Now I'm not a lawer, and Jonathan is, so I'm sure he's got it right, BUT, surely the fastest Club '12' would implicitly be the Club '200' on count-back (where the '12' exceeds 200 miles, natch). So to be on the safe side, Jonathan - make certain that you lift the '12' record as well (whatever it is).
Justin led us a merry ride through Suffolk and (even) Cambridgeshire, and a good ttime was had by all. My total was 75 miles. Must go now - off to France. SJH
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