An amiable gathering at New Green Centre, Thurston developed into a ride of thirteen (oo- er) that left at a socially well-judged 12 minutes past 9. It is very hard to define exactly what makes a ride work as a group. I'd better define what I'm taking about here, it's not 'work' as in the break that that worked together to average over 28mph for the whole of stage 7 of the Tour of Britain; it's 'work' in the social sense. An easy atmosphere, not an over-the-top bonhomie with braying laughter. It is of course, a combination of personalities, just the right balance of sweet and dry, bubbly and placid; and this can vary according to the mood-on-the-day of the of the riders as well as the basic compatibility of those riders. So, we were all the right people, and all in the right frame of mind (or else hiding our inner torment very effectively)
Whatever it is, on Wednesday the 14th September was this whatever it is. S0, into a brisk westerly, with joy in our hearts and a spring to our pedalling we set off. Richard Seggar was back from Yorkshire with tales of strong winds and lashing rain on high places. He was initially uncharacteristically short on inspiration, so we conferred, he and I, and the general shape of a ride (in broad terms) began to emerge as an
initial sketch capable of being modified on the wing. Peter Heath had named Newmarket as preferred bidder for the Café stop. I kept my reservations to myself, but it turned out to a good choice. Richard's variations on our theme were well-judged, taking as they did a weaving course in and out of well ridden routes. A warp to the conventional weft of rides (one could say, if sufficiently pretentious) which lead to several attempts at second guessing which way to go at familiar junctions approached from an unfamiliar direction and departed from in the least expected. What harmless fun this was .
"Left"
"No! Straight ON"
"Left"
"STRAIGHT ON!!"
The final approach to Newmarket was down Duchess Drive (this used to be an essential part of the course for the Divisional Road Race Championships in the 70s and early 80s - though, obviously, they went up it. If you ever get the chance, do ask Neil Dykes to tell you about the time that . . . . . .) This descent is about 3/4 of a mile long, which is quite enough for me on 66" fixed which means that at 27 mph I'm touching 140rpm. I'm not asking for sympathy, I actually like it because it's harder, and anyway, think how much more work I do on the average clubrun? I can keep myself warm with the downhill revs plus the glow of smugness as I think thoughts like "freewheeling is for wimps". Of course, if a long descent is immediately followed by another climb, then I'm sh*ft*d; the legs just don't want to know. When this happens I do try not whinge about being dropped. Honestly I do.
Coffee & Co in Newmarket has much in its favour. It's in a quiet backstreet near the church and has bright aluminium tables & chairs outside. Historically, the downside has tended to be a
difficulty coping with groups of 18 cyclists turning up all at once. One one memorable occasion they had obviously decided to do all the drinks, followed by all the food (or it may have been the other way around). This meant that each cyclist had to be visited twice - and located, and asked what they had ordered. Now we can be particularly gormless in this department, it has to be said. "Skinny Latte?" - silence, no reaction. Waiting person moves around repeating the question. All the cyclists carry on chatting. Finally, only one person hasn't been asked "what did you order sir?" (we chaps tend to be even more self-absorbed than women). Cyclist reacts as if woken from deep slumber "Skinny Latte" he will reply, slightly indignantly - as if the question was a bit impertinent. Reader, I what whereof I speak, we ran a restaurant in a previous life.
On this occasion, Peter Heath who was (as ever) first in the queue, took the bull by the horns and, though I (second in the queue by means of sprinting through the other riders in the final quarter mile) didn't catch his opening gambit, but I did hear "Come on! Get your act together!". Now Peter can get away with breathtaking bluntness like this and, with female staff, will be rewarded with smiles and laughter and (even) occasional coyness. I could see, through the kitchen, th
at extra silver tables and chairs were being removed from a storeroom and placed outside; food and drinks came as a unit for each of us . . . and fast. Quality of food is always high, and prices reasonable. With this level of speedy service we have only ourselves to blame if we stay too long over our tea stop.
We took a variation of standard routes home, using the 'old A45' to Kentford then right, up to Gazeley and the lovely back road to Barrow. By the time we were descending from Barrow there was a natural split developing which in the end left Richard S, Peter Gay and self to make our own way - by way of right at Westley crossroads up to Horringer, and then down towards Bury and across to Nowton and towards Rushbrooke. We reckon we did about 9 extra miles or, as Richard put it "Spent a pound to save a penny" My total was 63.8 miles. A delightful ride. SJH
Whatever it is, on Wednesday the 14th September was this whatever it is. S0, into a brisk westerly, with joy in our hearts and a spring to our pedalling we set off. Richard Seggar was back from Yorkshire with tales of strong winds and lashing rain on high places. He was initially uncharacteristically short on inspiration, so we conferred, he and I, and the general shape of a ride (in broad terms) began to emerge as an
initial sketch capable of being modified on the wing. Peter Heath had named Newmarket as preferred bidder for the Café stop. I kept my reservations to myself, but it turned out to a good choice. Richard's variations on our theme were well-judged, taking as they did a weaving course in and out of well ridden routes. A warp to the conventional weft of rides (one could say, if sufficiently pretentious) which lead to several attempts at second guessing which way to go at familiar junctions approached from an unfamiliar direction and departed from in the least expected. What harmless fun this was ."Left"
"No! Straight ON"
"Left"
"STRAIGHT ON!!"
The final approach to Newmarket was down Duchess Drive (this used to be an essential part of the course for the Divisional Road Race Championships in the 70s and early 80s - though, obviously, they went up it. If you ever get the chance, do ask Neil Dykes to tell you about the time that . . . . . .) This descent is about 3/4 of a mile long, which is quite enough for me on 66" fixed which means that at 27 mph I'm touching 140rpm. I'm not asking for sympathy, I actually like it because it's harder, and anyway, think how much more work I do on the average clubrun? I can keep myself warm with the downhill revs plus the glow of smugness as I think thoughts like "freewheeling is for wimps". Of course, if a long descent is immediately followed by another climb, then I'm sh*ft*d; the legs just don't want to know. When this happens I do try not whinge about being dropped. Honestly I do.
Coffee & Co in Newmarket has much in its favour. It's in a quiet backstreet near the church and has bright aluminium tables & chairs outside. Historically, the downside has tended to be a
difficulty coping with groups of 18 cyclists turning up all at once. One one memorable occasion they had obviously decided to do all the drinks, followed by all the food (or it may have been the other way around). This meant that each cyclist had to be visited twice - and located, and asked what they had ordered. Now we can be particularly gormless in this department, it has to be said. "Skinny Latte?" - silence, no reaction. Waiting person moves around repeating the question. All the cyclists carry on chatting. Finally, only one person hasn't been asked "what did you order sir?" (we chaps tend to be even more self-absorbed than women). Cyclist reacts as if woken from deep slumber "Skinny Latte" he will reply, slightly indignantly - as if the question was a bit impertinent. Reader, I what whereof I speak, we ran a restaurant in a previous life.On this occasion, Peter Heath who was (as ever) first in the queue, took the bull by the horns and, though I (second in the queue by means of sprinting through the other riders in the final quarter mile) didn't catch his opening gambit, but I did hear "Come on! Get your act together!". Now Peter can get away with breathtaking bluntness like this and, with female staff, will be rewarded with smiles and laughter and (even) occasional coyness. I could see, through the kitchen, th
at extra silver tables and chairs were being removed from a storeroom and placed outside; food and drinks came as a unit for each of us . . . and fast. Quality of food is always high, and prices reasonable. With this level of speedy service we have only ourselves to blame if we stay too long over our tea stop.We took a variation of standard routes home, using the 'old A45' to Kentford then right, up to Gazeley and the lovely back road to Barrow. By the time we were descending from Barrow there was a natural split developing which in the end left Richard S, Peter Gay and self to make our own way - by way of right at Westley crossroads up to Horringer, and then down towards Bury and across to Nowton and towards Rushbrooke. We reckon we did about 9 extra miles or, as Richard put it "Spent a pound to save a penny" My total was 63.8 miles. A delightful ride. SJH
Every time you freewheel, a kitten dies
ReplyDeleteJust read your comment after a freewheel-powered ride. Should I shed a tear?
ReplyDelete