Friday 30 December. Last Ride of 2011, best scones of the year

I thought that, since I was up at 07.30 for a 09.30 kick off, I could fit the beautiful new Conti Ultra Gatorskins that I bought for Pearson for Christmas before setting off. Ah, but he's very dirty, with signs of rust on some shiny bits like track nuts, due to salt no doubt. So it was a bike wash, then. Boiler suit over cycling kit, porridge on the stove, rush about gathering cleaning stuff, bike on stand, hot water and detergent, citrus de-greaser, brush, sponge, cloth to get into the crevices, dash back to kitchen and turn down heat on porridge, give it a stir, add a drop more milk, cover and leave on low heat, remove wheels, apply citrus to oily bits, lather the rest, hose down (water is VERY cold as I hold my thumb over the end - the simplest and best "hose attachment" I know), check porridge, switch off heat. Crickey! 08.15, clean spokes and hubs, replace old tyres with new, (changed mind about putting new tubes in), inflate tyres, back to kitchen, put porridge in bowl to cool (saves breath, ha ha) refit wheels adjust chain tension, click rear mudguard stays into fixings, set brakes, attach speedo, time has lurched to 08.50, take bike to house, gather milk and maple syrup, rip off boiler suit, momentarily unable to find my special spoon (can't possibly eat it without) find spoon, give more food to cats (three) to avoid tripping over them, 09.03 start gulping porridge, 09.10 stack porridge bowl and teacup by sink, no time to wash up - wife asleep recharging energy cells depleted by six days of catering for family gatherings of 7 to 17 souls hope no fuse blown by sight of dirty dishes, 09.15 pedal to garage for papers, back to house, throw them into kitchen, pause; check phone, camera, money, clean handkerchief, bottle on bike, make the gilet decision following test of temperature without boiler suit on the paper-run, leap on bike, 09.19, pedal like hell, after four minutes settle for merely brisk pace, up the hill through Tostock, gasping for breeeeaaaath, settle to cruise setting, slow down miserably going over A14 bridge, down into Beyton, get into a purposeful position just in case they're looking. Check watch 09.28. Whew. Plenty of time.

Five of us go to La Hogue, destined to be Tea Stop of The Year. Weather was sunny to start with, but the mercury was sulking at zero celcius. However, with the help of the early sunshine the temperature rose, and normal longsleeve Club jerseys were sufficient when combined with a gilet (see above) over and several layers beneath.

We took a version of the normal return route for our outward leg. There was all the usual mud from the Sugar Beet harvest, and a fair few puddles to avoid. The high spot was probably spotting Jeremy Waterson's head and shoulders poking out of a manhole in a driveway as we rode through Livermere. As WSW MTB co-ordinator Jeremy will be no stranger to mud and discomfort; it was good to see someone who was prepared to get out there and help the economy.

At La Hogue we enjoyed quite the finest scones of the year. Slightly crusty on the outside, still warm from the oven, and maintaining their integrity when spread (important in so many activities, I feel) these baked beauties were imbued with perfect flavour from correct amounts of salt and sugar plus a good balance of fruit. The place was extremely busy overall, but the Café had plenty of room. As I enjoyed butter and jam on my scone, accompanied by a large cappuccino with chocolate on top, I couldn't help but notice my neighbour's spartan black coffee, no food and bare knees. Are you quite mad Gerry? I admit that I very rarely wear shorts even in Summer and never if it's below about 18c but, shorts? In December? Even the warmest December since 1886 or whatever it was? Oh, all right then. Not quite so deranged - but do think of those knees old chap.

My proposals for a more challenging route home were (quite correctly) over ruled and we went roughly the normal way back. 52 miles at a steady pace (coupled with my first run for over a month, yesterday) meant that my legs had had enough, thank you.

So, the final Blog of 2011, completed with five hours to go. Tomorrow is another year, so here's to many successful miles in good company, personal bests and achievements.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!



SJH

Sunday 18 Dec. 2011: Four set out, Three turn back.

Mince Pie Run Day. -4c. Ice on the walk to the garage for my paper, just like yesterday. Tony, Justin and Ron Fisher are due to come up the road to collect me - after a 'snow check'. I had been busy defending to wife and daughter the apparent rashness of going out when I had pronounced the previous (almost identical) day's weather as "far too dangerous". Me and my big mouth, eh?

They arrived, without incident, it would seem that there is rather more salt about than yesterday. We decided on a route that kept to main-ish roads that would (or should) have been treated. Down the 1088 to Elmswell, then follow the road to Stowmarket and from there follow the 1115 towards Bildeston. So far so good and companionable. It didn't seem quite so cold as we rolled along. We realised that we needed a plan that went a bit further than "let's avoid the lanes" and reached "so what route that avoids the lanes do we need in order to reach to Rattlesden?". As we were about to descend the little hill at the end of Hitcham it was perfectly plain that we should just turn round and go back, and then go left at One House then left again to the warm sanctuary of the Five Bells. We reckoned on about a 12.15 arrival.

Then it began to snow, so we were smugly happy with our decision to turn. The snow got a bit heavier. Smugness was replaced by plain relief. Then I got my puncture. Rear, of course - what other sort would one get in weather like this? Tony Panting's pictures tell the story, and my traditional cyclists' head wear doing its traditional thing of moving upwards coupled with the reading glasses essential for finding the flint that turned out to be the cause give me a distinctly "Bah Humbug" aspect. And, dear readers, that would exactly reflect my mood.

Fingers now numb with cold, gloves no longer even damp proof and a good half hour's ride home, we made another decision; we would go straight home. Ron Fisher, being made of stearner stuff and riding his mountain bike opted to follow plan B release 1, whilst we grovelled home on plan B release 2 (I had an additional reason to want to go home - I'd realised while fumbling in pockets for my specs that I'd left my money behind, and the generosity of others might not be able to keep pace with my need for alcoholic consolation) I was home by about 1.15, relieved and soon revived. Tony emailed on Tuesday to say that he had a chest cold - he had been suffering quite badly on the home. Get well soon, Tony

SJH

Wednesday 7 December 2011. High wind in Suffolk. Peter decides on Cafe of the Year.

A reduced number assembled for the opening of our sealed orders for the day. There would be no need to split up and we would be huddled pretty close for all of the way to our tea stop, which was revealed to be at La Hogue.

We followed our recently popular climbing route which takes us via Welnethams Gt & Lt, Whepstead and eventually Ousden and (depending on how intrepid we feel) round to the south and west of Newmarket or, as in this case through to Moulton and Kentford. Though the headwind was pretty tough, when it was a sidewind it was definitely more challenging - some of our lighter riders were experiencing directional problems as we passed gateways and hedge gaps. Definitely a tea-break wheel-turner this, as we would get a substantial tailwind home. We met the Cambridge Wednesday contingent at La Hogue, and I chatted to my old friend André Marsh. Only later did it really dawn on me that one group was going to face a massive headwind home. And it wasn't going to be us.
Rolling along comfortably on 72.5" gear (this link will allow you to make your own calculations. My combination was 51x19) was great, all the way to Cavenham, when we turn left. On the shallow descent to Lackford the wind was precisely behind us, and I wound up the revs to around 135rpm and overtook an unsuspecting Ron Fisher at 29mph. He woke up and was soon on my wheel of course - and I can't maintain those revs for very long. When I contemplate the achievements of Tony Doyle and the late Zak Carr I am completely humbled since since Zak averaged over 130rpm for 53 minutes. At the moment I can just about manage the 3minutes on the end. That link is truly fascinating, do follow it.

SJH

Sunday 4th December 2011. We are introduced to a new Café, and are Proud to have an HQ.

In case there are rumours that we are a rival ad hoc club run, let me say, right away, that this is the official Café Reconnaissance Ride. We sample the Tea so that you don't have to. We were the Infamous Five, and Long Melford was our goal. Fine Foods, on the west side of The Street. Appropriate, I pointed out, that we seniors should stop here in Long Melford, since the speciality of this small town is antiques.
We spent a few minutes in the Café (while our redoubtable Yorkshire hostess prepared our scones and tea) calculating our average age (yes, sad isn't it. We'll soon be in that irredeemably sad category of old Codger who fixes strangers with a hard stare asking "And how old d'you think I am?" and you'll be in trouble if you guess over the actual - or, even, too close below) the answer - if you can remember where we were before that last parenthetic detour - was 68. Which I suppose makes me a mean cyclist.
The feel of the room is very 1950s and, despite a lot of mass-produced repro nostalgia (and as we all know, nostalgia isn't what it used to be) very authentic. I think this is down to the hostess's attitudes and the slightly bare look, with cream walls and some green detailing which was the green that was ubiquitous during the first fifteen years after what we oldsters merely call 'The War' with no qualification. To us there are other wars that do have a title, Crimean, Boer, First, Korean and so on, but The War is only ever the '39-'45.
Our hostess impressed us when, during a discussion of tea strengths and the effect of hard and soft water on this, she said
"Well, my tea supplier made my blend specifically for the water here".

It's definitely that "My tea supplier" coupled with "My blend" that sets this lady and her establishment apart.

But there was more. Casting an eye over our club outfits, the lady of the house asked
"In a club are you?"
"Yes, West Suffolk Wheelers in Bury St Edmunds"
"Do you have a club room or a hut where you meet?"

With pride, and thoughts of our Chairman Barry St Edmunds, we explained our recent elevation to the ranks Clubs With Huts. How shaming, how embarrassing the conversation would have been if we hadn't had an HQ to our name.

SJH

Wednesday 30th November 2011. Hollow Trees

A chilly start, and not over warm at any time there was, however, sunshine and beautiful landscape to enjoy. It was decided that we were about the right size of group remain as one, and it was decided that Peter would lead us to Semer, where Woodlands Café operates at Hollow Trees Farm.
It was one of those rides where every time I felt convinced that I knew which way we would be going, the direction changed. Every anticipated right became a left, and vice versa; every expected village or town was avoided. Favourite lanes were shunned in favour of more 'main' roads - but then a previously unknown byway would be introduced. Kept us on our toes. Thank you Peter.
On one particularly picturesque section of this route one of our number experienced a punctured inner tube. The sun was by now delivering unseasonal warmth and, as you can see from the pics, we were in a near perfect spot for puncture repair. Some of our number rode up the road , then back, then up the road again and so on - partly out of politeness, not wishing to swell the throng of onlookers (thus possibly embarrassing the victim), and partly to keep their finely tuned legs in perfect condition (or so they might have us believe). The lane was narrow, and any group of stationary riders (however few) will always expand to fill the road available and, at the approach of a vehicle will take a maddeningly long time to sort themselves out of the way (the very behaviour that, when exhibited by pedestrians, makes cyclists extremely cross) Thus, having over half the ride cruising round in a holding pattern is a good thing. This ride though very beautiful, and enjoyable, and in weather that was unbelievably clement for the last day of November is not, in fact, the main topic of this blog.

The main topic is Hollowtrees itself. What concerned the ever-discerning Mercoladisti was a perception of a slight slippage in the maintaining of standards. Chloe's accueil is peerless as ever. The was scones lacked lacked the feel of fresh. Though we had no reason to doubt that they had been made on this morning, it seemed to be more a question of recipe and method. Had they someone in the kitchen with a more commercial background?

Some have reservations about the layout following the recent refurbishment - the area that had previously been the servery remains the same size and, having no windows yet retaining three walls has rather the feel of a cupboard. We feel that maybe, just maybe, the coveted crown of Wheelers' Café of the year may well pass to another organisation. The criteria are quite complex and the catering quality is but one of these. One criterion is beyond the control of the establishment and that is location. Well, not just location (this would feature such variables as wonderful views, peaceful outside seating and so on) but proximity. Ideally, no further than 20 miles from Bury St Edmunds and, to be even more picky, to the west or south west. It's no use having a supposedly favourite café that we rarely visit. Now La Hogue has the location thing sewn up, with the possible exception of the return route to Bury. It takes moral fibre of the carbon variety to launch into a long route home after the café stop, so that leaves the variations of Red Lodge and Tuddenham which gives around 18 miles return which, when combined with a 40 mile outward leg gives a good ride. Even better if you live (as I do) 7.5 miles east of Bury. So, we had a great ride, discovered a failing in our favourite watering hole, changed an inner tube and maybe thought of a new Café of the year.
SJH

Sunday 27th November. Ambushed at La Hogue

It was only Peter, TomTom and I who decided at the last minute that we might go out for a gentle 'pootle', to return with the brisk (14 - 17 mph) westerly wind, possibly from La Hogue.

We went via Beyton, west parallel to A14, past the Plant Nursery and through the Rougham Estate past Blackthorpe Barn (where there was much Christmas activity already - car park attendants in their huge hi-vis coats, even the odd Tree being carried to a waiting car) then through to Nowton.

Some ingenious moves wound us through to Horrringer, Westley crossroads and up to Barrow - where we met the full force of the 15mph wind on the ascent. From Barrow through Moulton and Kentford . . . to La Hogue, and the prospect of a wind assisted return trip. Just as we were savouring the first sips of tea and nibbles of scone - il Cappuccini arrived. Barry came and sat at our table; I assured him that, despite appearances, we were not in any way a renegade unofficial club run. We were merely three like-minded cyclists who happened to have discovered a degree of congruence in our intentions of a Sunday morning. I think it possible that all I succeeded in doing was to convince our chairman (Barry St Edmunds) that I was barking.

We left just ahead of The Ride, I had turned my wheel round to raise my gear from 66" to 72"
- fending off the usual banter about the length of time it takes to change gear and other hilarious observations concerning the invention of multiple gear systems - so that I could maximise the benefit of a tailwind. As is usual, we turned left at the end of the road to La Hogue to Chippenham (incidentally, this road does continue to the A11 enabling the brave to join the Norwich-bound carriageway at a T junction. Before the dualling, it was possible to cross the A11 and continue in a straight line to Moulton. But what's the point of short cuts, when we're trying to cover as many miles as possible, as opposed to merely reaching a destination. For the sake of the argument I'm ruling out Café stops as destinations) In Chippenham we turn right (east) along the little lane that joins the road from Freckenham to Red Lodge (which has turned into something resembling Toytown). As we left Toytown we caught a glimpse of a group of riders crossing from right to left. It was il Cappuccini, who must have taken the alternative route (I won't bore you with a description - it's a dull choice) which put them about a quarter mile ahead of us. The inevitable happened (TomTom would say that it was in no way an inevitability since I am an adult capable of exercising free will) and I gradually increased our pace (a less aggressive term than speed) until the group ahead very gradually came closer. It can be very hard to gauge how quickly (or not) one is catching up with other riders until they are within a couple of hundred yds. Then it is important to only go as fast as is necessary to maintain the rate of gain. Quite absorbing really, in an incredibly boring sort of way. Before we reached Tuddenham we were upon them. First group of four or five at the back, neat and compact, then Barry with John Dumont, then another three, then ones and twos further ahead. A classic Wheelers clubrun, at a disorganised point in the ride. All rides get these moments, it can be fatigue, inattention or a mismatch of abilities. We lightheartedly joshed them as we passed, mainly the old chestnut about riding "all over the road" or "four abreast". I can't remember the last time I was in a group that caught, passed and rode away from another. OK they were the more mature in their attitude, but hey! It was a blast. We turned left to Lackford and never saw them again.

SJH

Wednesday 23rd November. The search for the most expensive stop is over . .

. . . . but it's still high quality at the Cavendish Tearooms. Taking one of the selection of lumpy routes to Cavendish (there is no other sort) and again climbing the Col de Poslingford, Ron Fisher mentioned that this was the fourth time that he'd climbed it on consecutive rides. He seemed to take it in his stride. At Clare we passed through in a westerly direction and turned left to follow the lanes eastward, roughly parallel to the main Clare - Cavendish rd. There was a call that there had been a puncture, it was Dawn's and TomTom went back to assist Dawn and Chris, and the message came through that they would follow the main road.
Our main group arrived first at Cavendish Tea Rooms, and the puncture party were about ten minutes later. The usual huge scones (though perhaps a touch hard from overcooking) and I went for a cappuccino (always a pricey option - but what the hell . .)
Service varies between order at the counter pay on exit and full table service, then pay on exit. Today it was order and pay at the counter, so I had my fiver poised between finger tips as the pleasant lady said
"£6.45 thank you"
OOps. I only had that fiver. However I did have TomTom who was at my elbow, in funds and feeling sufficiently generous to subsidise me in my extravagance.
I think that this is now the most expensive tea stop yet enjoyed. Normally, I am intensely relaxed about food prices when eating out, and am only very rarely caught out by a disconnect between expectation and reality. This was one of those rare occasions. A sharp-intake-of-breath moment, shall we say. This a beautiful space in which to spread ourselves out at large blond wood tables that can seat a dozen or more without a crush. A blazing wood fire when appropriate, views across a very nice garden all ease the pain in the purse that it seems to have become. When first discovered, this place seemed a bit too cheap for the amounts of food provided; as an ex-catering professional I thought that if it was to survive, something had to give, portions or prices. They've made the choice.

We toil back on the usual route from Cavendish, up water lane and via Glemsford. Always a challenging route and, as you get more tired, closer to Bury and need of some comfort - there is none. Whichever variation of the final run-in involves a succession of little ascents. But this is why we do this, why we are out on a Wednesday; pain and discomfort endured for the future benefit that it will bring. What future benefit is that? Feeling slightly less pain and discomfort on the run-in to Bury. If not next time, then eventually.

SJH