Sunday 20 November 2011.Five test the new Suffolk Punch route . . .

. . . . . now with added altitude. After the ride, exhausted and drained, I said to Justin
"I don't like your altitude"

"It's not my altitude" he replied "it's your attitude. That's the problem"

Then we made up, and became firm acquaintances again. Though as you will have realised, I made it all up.

There is much concern, these days, over 'elder abuse' as it is sometimes called (ask a social services professional, they'll tell you why) (that's as in "why it's called 'elder abuse' " rather than why there's too much of it about. Though they can probably tell you that too). The casual classification of those over (say) sixty five as being barely sentient, aged, wrinkly is all too prevalent.

There is a reason for raising this topic at the beginning of a blog about cycling. And that reason is the passing of the indefatigable, ubiquitous and ever-youthful Justin into the Pensioner zone with his 65th birthday. He has joined the senior echelon of the Wednesday ride and will from now on be referred to as a 'Pensioner'. As in 'Plucky Pensioner'. In time he, like the rest of us, will graduate to the higher level of patronisation which is 'Elderly '.

Cyclist in collision, Pensioner falls off of bike (this is local press), elderly man tumbles from pushbike.

Happy Birthday Justin.

Because we met at Thurston at 09.00, and because we intended to experience the full 'Suffolk Punch Experience' we cycled into Bury via Mount Rd and the cyclepath. We saw (and waved to) the Espresso Ride hammering Eastwards through Moreton Hall. We didn't feel it necessary to actually go to the HQ.

Merits of our route through Bury were discussed as we rode out along Southgate St and towards Horringer, taking the left turn at the foot of the Horringer climb, in the general direction of Whepstead. Just before we were to take the right turn towards Rede, my chain came off. I should mention at this point that I was riding Pearson the Fixie (just to show that I wasn't taking all the climbing too seriously) and descending at 26mph which is about 134rpm. I looked down and saw the chain was swinging from side to side in a harmless-seeming way, unbroken. I shouted to my chums that I had a problem. Then the still-rotating sprocket grabbed the chain and wound it tightly round the drop-out (which someone might be tempted to point out is actually a slide-out, being a track-end) and locked the back wheel. The road was wet, and slimy with mud - so I slid. "Here I go" I thought, trying to control the skid with opposite lock, first one way then the other and then the first one again, not wishing to actually fall off. The likelihood of a tumble seemed very high but, incredibly, I came to an almost stop and actually achieved what can only be described as a track stand, managing to get my foot out in time to catch the falling bike. So there I was, leaning on the 'bars, amazed at my good fortune. Just a bit disappointed that the other four had missed my bike-handling display. Being the true friends that they are, they readily believed me. But it's just not the same, is it?

Not certain of the cause. Having ridden fixed fairly regularly for around ten winters my chain has only come off once before. And I didn't fall off the other time either. Of course, the wheel had pulled over - but was it the cause or the effect? The RH wheelnut wasn't fully tight, however, and just might have been the cause.

Brief pause for re-shipping of chain and swift check of possible damage, less delay than your average puncture, then off we go to Rede and, eventually Hawkedon. Right at the T junction and follow the route through Stansfield and up to Poslingford. I always know that I'll get dropped these days, so I wasn't surprised this time - but I did recover in the later, less steep stages. The visibility is still quite poor, and patchy. I find that I can actually see better without my prescription Ray-Bans. We climb over the summit above Hundon, reasonably together - we are going at the speed of the slowest, even when he can't keep up - and descend to Stradishall. Right and Left across the A143 and carry on through Wickhambrook on the B1063. There is a puncture. When we set off I replace the Ray-Bans. Before we reach Cropley Grove, I'm struggling to see, so stiff them in a back pocket, beneath the WSW Gilet. Up Ousden Hill (feels less challenging than I remember) and head for Hargrave then Chevington and up Weather Cock Hill to the finish of the Horringer Evening '10'. Back across the A143, up Whepstead Hill. Here I committed an error of etiquette. Pete beat me to the top, and I heard myself saying
"I know I'm still off form, because I used to count on getting to the top of this climb first"
After a pause for thought, I apologised. In my defence I would mention that cyclists are frequently self-obsessed, though that that's not really a defence for being a boorish plonker. Sometimes you can be riding alongside a local hotshot who normally wouldn't give you the time of day if it was at the finish of a race and, to break the ice, you ask how his weekend went. He tells you. Pedal stroke by pedal stroke. Lasts five miles. Then he pauses and says "But that's enough about me. What do you think I should be doing to improve? "

On, On, On.

At the top of Wheaptead Hill we turn right, and keep going all the way to Hartest. Then we turn left. Yup, Hartest Hill. One chevron. Last time I tried this (on 72.5" gear) I came to a standstill for the first time in my adult cycling life. Today I'm on 66" (even if you no nothing at all about this arcane measurement system, you can see that there's a big difference) and worried that I'll be able to make it. But only worried in that way that you know you'll do it, but there might be a big effort involved. Then the road rears up in a way that I don't ever remember, and it's foot out time. This takes a bit of planning, on fixed. The feet are rotating (albeit, slowly) the whole time, so you must unclip and plant the foot all in one movement - and on the side that you are leaning. Then the car behind passes you while you try to pretend that you have experienced an unexpected mechanical. Then (because remounting on a 15% gradient isn't an option) you have to walk to nearly the top.

But that's enough about me, how do you think I should have handled this problem?

On, on, on.

Down towards Shimpling and right to Bridge Street. Don't stop at the Rose Bar & Tearooms, excellent though it is. Force yourself across the A134 and up the jolly old climb towards Lavenham and tea. The Guildhall Tea Rooms is a quality National Trust venue, with friendly and welcoming staff (if slightly confused at times). We timed our arrival to perfection, just ahead of a booked party of motorcyclists. There was an amusingly confused moment when the lady who was serving me was handed a plate bearing the sausage roll ordered by the motorcyclist behind me in the queue. My lady solved this by serving the chap behind me first, and appearing to forget that I had already ordered. Good job I wasn't Peter, is all I can say. This wasn't the only hitch at the tea stop; I realised that my prescription Polarising Ray-Bans were no longer in my back pocket under my gilet. Remember my mentioning the glasses earlier? I must have missed the the pocket and, at some point when Tom Tom wasn't behind me with his hawk-eyes, they must have fallen out. Well, damn.

The Motorcyclists look huge in their leathers, carrying large helmets, filling the room. When they remove their huge jackets, they are still - all of them - large. We no longer worry about the five of us taking up too much room, with our Lycra clothing and small, lightweight helmets (or caps) because at least four of us look vanishingly slender as we sit nibbling our scones. The mist and gloom had lifted before we reached Lavenham and the town is looking tourist-brochure perfect.

We turned down the little street beside the Great House Hotel & Restaurant (a favourite for Susan and I when we have something to celebrate; that something is sometimes just being able to go out for lunch). As m'colleagues weave their way down the steep and narrow street, I realise that something isn't quite right in the handling department. Yup! it's a puncture. At least it's a front. The others are out of ear shot so I just get on with it. The business of changing a tube is rather complicated by the gradient (I could have gone back to the square, but I'd have been out of sight if my chums came back to look for me, and they would have had to climb the hill just to find out . . . .oh this so long winded, you know what I'm getting at). Chums appear at the foot of the climb, ascend to offer help and banter. Puncture fixed off we go, tried and tested route home with no more nasty surprises. Near Thorpe Morieux Peter gets a puncture, we hear a barn owl. I see it briefly alight on the top of a tree, but cannot check properly without distance glasses (see above). My recognition is contradicted. Average age of heaven knows what and we're disagreeing what we can see. "In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king" . The sun still shines and were we stand there is warmth.

We opt-out of returning to HQ, and just head for home. A grand ride, if taxing. Sixty-several miles and, without Hartest, quite do-able. If I train between now and February 2012, and can climb Hartest without coming to a standstill, I'll ride fixed like today.

SJH.

Wednesday 16 Novenber 2011. Altogether now . . almost

A misty start, and a shaky one as we head north east from Thurston. Straight over crossroads at Pakenham, then left just past the Manor to cross the A143 at the point that actually has the best visibility. And we have a puncture. Front wheel. However, takes a while to find the cause so, with just 2 miles covered so far, it's already 9:35. Things can only get better.

As we descend towards Livermere, Dawn feels spooked by the fog and turns for home (or, rather, that's what I thought was going to happen). A bit further on we realised that Glenn Morris had also departed.

The group seemed to gel, and singling out went smoothly. This was encouraging since we were about 15 riders. No incidents with cars, no further punctures. TT took us on an unchallenging loop to Bressingham, keeping off both main roads and tiny lanes. By the time we tottered into Blooms we discovered that Dawn and Glenn had changed plans and come straight out to the café. I had to mentally readjust as the till and service was now on the right hand side of the huge horse-shoe shaped counter. Quite a few of us enjoyed a hybrid baked product, the lovechild of a brief fling between a scone and a rockcake that had acquired a mild cinnamon habit and some glace cherries. Many culinary successes began with a mistake. I mistook marmalade for apricot jam, and the result was delicious with my rock-scone. The sun was coming through as we left, turning right towards Diss then left down Freezen Hill for a route that stayed north of the A143 until Ixworth. We stayed together to the end.

An uneventful ride was just what we needed after the last few incident-packed wednesdays (and I forgot to mention Justin getting shotgun pellets in his Gilet last week!) but it makes it hard to create a story.

Sorry

SJH

Wednesday 9 November '11. A ride of two halves . . .

. . . . one Café and some punctures. Due to pressure on my time since Wednesday the detail of this ride in largely good weather is a little hazy. Because we were (probably) over twenty riders, and because last week's ride was a tumble-strewn fiasco largely caused by similar numbers, it was decided that we should split into two (I seem to remember being the last to be selected) and that we would all go to Hollow Trees, but not necessarily by the same route. Justin and Peter's group rolled out first followed by us. We were fortunate in having TT on our side (we wouldn't get lost) plus Glenn Morris to assist with punctures.

We had a couple of punctures en route, most notable was the one suffered by Dawn which was caused by a huge flint. So huge was it that Glenn insisted that I take its photo. The result was out of focus, so won't be displayed - but rest assured that it could have been mistaken for a Saxon arrowhead. It later came to light that Glenn had lost his plastic wallet containing credit card etc. There's no sign in my photo of anything similar lying on the ground, but we could have a 'spot the plastic wallet' competition. After realising his loss while standing in the queue at Hollowtrees, Glenn went back to have a look - without success. He didn't seem to have been away long enough to have reached the spot in the photo. What an unfair thing to happen to one who is always so ready to help others.

The puncture had happened on a section of road that was a new experience even to TomTom! We took a left in Boxford, before Cox's Hill, that looks like a footpath in front of a row of very old houses, which then widens to a lane, then narrows again to - what do you call the next size down from a lane? Then becomes a lane with very tall grass down the middle. We reached a T junction, went left. I assumed that we had met a more substantial road. I was extremely wrong. It got smaller again, and extremely steeeep. Then went down, then up and then Dawn had her puncture. Which brings us back to the café in the previous paragraph. The other half of the ride left after about 15 minutes, and we stayed for the usual 'slightly too long'. Tony Panting put some more air into his tyre, stopping short of admitting to possible puncture - which, inevitably, it turned out to be about five miles later. We are entering that part of the year when puncture-prevalence is at its highest. It will last until April or, even, May. Time to buy new tyres.

SJH

Wed. 2nd Nov. 2011 Three Tumbles and a puncture

Our first was Ron Fisher in Haughley, our second was Peter S-W approaching the A140 crossing, and our third was TomTom at the Dog crossroads in Norton, when all were stationary. Yes, amazingly these were all tumbles. Ron isn't quite clear how he found himself heading for the tarmac as we edged our way through a queue of traffic at roadworks in Haughley. He was on his own, at the front of the second group. My picture shows Justin fettling Ron's steed.

Poor Peter S-W got caught as the penultimate rider in the line as a 'hesitation' near the front as we singled out for a following car was magnified (as on motorways) as it moved back to become an emergency stop. TomTom would rather not discuss his incident. It is a sad fact that the slowest of falls is still capable of inflicting pain. Sharon mentioned the 'Commando Roll' but it takes practice to learn how and presence of mind to remember to put it into practice. I vividly remember Brian Starr losing his balance as we all stood around in the Square at Cesenatico waiting for our guides to arrive. He fell, yes, but disconnected his other foot as he went down, rolled away from his bike and stood up in one smooth movement.

Our destination was Wickham Market, and the excellent Café that has taken over from the excellent lady who used to run it and who now has another café - tiny, but excellent - near the far corner of the Market Square. We rode through beautiful autumnal countryside on tiny lanes of TomTom's choosing. I was keenly aware that I should be taking some autumnal pics for the 2012 Calendar (did I mention that before?) but I've come to realise that I have far too many shots from the back of the bunch, and I'm reluctant to get into organising 'ambush' shots from ahead.

Excellent time at the Wickham Market Café. They coped well with 18 or so riders. Justin kept intoning "Café of the year Café of the year". I went for the two scone strategy to ensure sufficient fuel for the rest of the event/race/clubrun. The scones were just the correct side of firm - I'd say they weighed twice as much as last Sunday's at Mistley. So I had the equivalent of four. A senior moment (and at this point, because I've not mentioned it so far this year, I would like to point out that I aso have the option of blond moments making life twice as hazardous) I ordered an Espresso instead of a Cappuccino. Boy was I glad I made the error. It was without doubt the best Espresso I've had this year. Glynn, you should've been there.

It was getting a bit late when we left, and I compounded this by my tyre going down within 150 yds of the Café. Pretty rapid tube change despite the Conti tyre being very tight on the Mavic rim. I normally carry a device for levering tight tyres over rims, but I'd left it behind. Mark H whipped out something that impressed us all. It looked like an oversized crochet-hook with a large shank/handle. He was so swift that we didn't really get a chance to inspect it. Mark made it clear that he couldn't possibly take it out again, on the same principle that people used to think Sherpas observed with their Kukris - that should only be taken out in anger [a brief Google has established this as a myth. They're used for chopping wood as well as enemies] All Mark would confirm was that he bought it from Taurus Cycles in Cambridge in the 1980s.

We rode steadily, with a welcome tale wind all the way home - but somehow I didn't arrive until
after two o'clock. Justin and I had discussed this earlier, we feel that we must get home by one o'clock in general. Maybe we spend too much time sitting down in the Cafe?

An observation following this ride. Crashes take up more time than punctures. Having made that statement, here are a few more that you'll hear on a clubrun and during the tea stop. This is by no means a complete list, and contributions would be most welcome. Remember that these nuggets of wisdom are only ever expressed as absolutes. Just think about this recently published result of a comprehensive survey: a cyclist will develop five new strongly held beliefs for each year (after the first one) of regular club riding.

"Ride close, but not too close, faster, but not too fast, don't dawdle, slow down, junction, take care, keep going, keep moving, hole right, hole left, turn left, on the left, on the right, single out, line out, left front, right front, puncture, keep tight move in, move out, look behind, look ahead, do this at all times/not at all/never. No! Not like that, like this. Or this. Or that. And another thing to bear in mind at all times/when you're tired/ at the beginning of every ride/throughout a group ride/when on your own/riding a two up, when you're training, don't over train, get the miles in, no substitute for mileage,train smart not long, running ruins your riding, cross-training gives you flexibility, always/never stretch before/after exercise, your saddle's too high/low, did you know you were lopsided on the bike? Did you know your brake blocks are back to front/your tyres should be the other way round, your levers are too high/too low, your 'bars are too wide/narrow? Riding in the rain improves your sex life, racing saddles make you impotent, you shave your legs to look like a racer, facilitate massage/make wound dressing easier, because your mates do it, it's more aerodynamic, always/never have a good meal before and/or after a ride,a dump before your ride will save more weight than a carbon fibre bottle cage - or frame."

SJH