The Wiggendish Ride. Wednesday 25 July 2012

Stephen Linden's contribution

Who's got the Picnic?

Peter bareheaded

Stephen Linden, Tom Cahill Smith, Ron Fisher, TomTom, Peter Heath, Dale Sturman, Tony Panting, Justin Wallace, Barry Denny, Peter S-W, Michael Lawson, Gerry Barton & me (SJH). Our prime mover for this jaunt into Essex and the Blue Egg Café at Great Bardfield was Peter Heath and we had been, in his email directive, encouraged to wear items of yellow or Union Jacks or anything that would celebrate the historic and astonishing success of the Sky Team in producing not just the Winner, but 2nd place and the Champs Elysées winner in the Tour de France. The title of this blog celebrates Cav as World Champion and regular at the Blue Egg, and Brad as the man who made history.

Peter without helmet!

 If our rendezvous at the earlier hour of 0830 had been a Féte, and our outfits were to be judged in the Fancy Dress Competition, then Tony Panting (left) would have been the undisputed winner. Note the aero modification to the helmet (Of course Wiggo had the Roundel on his TT helmet as his modification). 

One approach to re-hydration. . . . . .

The guilty tyre

Our route was a  joint effort by TomTom and Justin, with a dash of Kevin Flanagan on the way home.The pace seemed quite brisk, and I was glad that I had decided to use the Flandria (best bike). We rattled our way to Clare via Glemsford and Cavendish heading to Essex and a crossing of the main road that most of us still think of as the A604. A short way west of our crossing, just a hundred metres short of Toppesfield, there was a familiar "CRACK!!" from the rear of the peleton. Stephen L had a puncture. But it as rather more serious than a mere flint or thorn, both the tube and the tyre having split - when the tyre was eased off the rim on one side, the damage was far more extensive than the photo shows. As is customary, several of us explained to Stephen exactly why it was entirely his fault (we felt confident in this, since we knew that he only recently returned to serious cycling). Mainly, we accused him of causing damage when fitting the tube. We (well, Stephen mainly) now had a problem. No one (natch) had a spare tyre  (well, ok, some of us were displaying something along those lines - but not the thing we needed). The ride had begun to resemble one of those irritating team-building exercises, where groups randomly thrown together solve problem like crossing  a river using a box of tissues, insulating tape and some twigs. Justin nipped to Toppesfield while the rest of us ran through further possibilities. Mrs Linden was at London learning to be an Olympic Games Maker, Stephen only had enough cash for the tea stop, and no credit card. No one seemed to be able to do any of those tasks now possible with smart phones - not even find were we where - and this with more than one Garmin available! Someone remembered that we had passed Malcolm Borg's Cycle Clinic repair and sales business as we left Glemsford, Gerry had the phone number, and Tom Tom used his photocopied fragment of Suffolk and Essex to explain our position (in both senses of the word). At this point Justin returned to announce great news, he had found a man who would summon a Taxi to take Stephen and bike to a bike shop. No one was listening. It turned out that the man had already phoned for the taxi - so Justin had to nip back and get it cancelled. I thought that Justin handled this reversal with admirable equanimity. With Malcolm due to be there in half an hour, we were able to do what we had really wanted to do at the start; leave Stephen behind.
He would try to make his way to the Café (about 5 miles) and arrive before we had left.
We made a classic Wheelers Clubrun restart, with half a dozen of us dropping the other five . . . . and not noticing that we'd done so until we had a considerable gap. Re-forming into an orderly group we sped to Gt Bardfield and on, southwards, to The Blue Egg. There were a lot of cyclists on the outside area, and more inside, plus a few 'civilians'. We had just formed an orderly queue when Kevin Flanagan arrived -with impressive timing, having ridden directly from his home in Hundon. One of the special features of this place is the ability to cope with large groups with ease. The fifteen or so riders from the Cambridge CC Wednesday ride (fast chapter) who arrived very shortly after us were absorbed with ease. The food is reasonably priced and, with the exception of the scones (which are disappointing) is varied and of high quality. Ron's Bread Pudding was the size and shape of a lump of Belgian Pavé. TomTom and I had bacon sandwiches which, though a bit slow to arrive, were packed with more slices of cured pig than one could count without dismantling the two, huge, crusty and fresh white bread triangles. Stephen had passed on to Peter a Union Jack plastic tablecloth (we were impressed when he brought along a bottle of Champagne in an insulating bag within a small rucksack, with which to ply us in celebration of his sixtieth birthday the other week, so we shouldn't have been surprised at this attention to detail) provided us with a customised table and later, a backdrop for the group photo (sadly, without Stephen) I commandeered my old friend Tim Williams from the Cambridge group to press the button.

Stansfield. The moment they drop me . . .

Just as we were leaving, a sweat-soaked Stephen arrived having been riding hard all the way from Toppesfield.  Good service received from Malcolm, and payment deferred, plus advice that because the tyre appeared to have failed (it came away from the cord) there might be a possibility of compensation from Continental. We allowed him to go and fill his bottle from the standpipe on the outside seating area, and set off, with a slightly different route led by Kevin, which veered left before Toppesfield. Peter S-W has a rear puncture, and we settle down in the sunshine while it is fixed. No one thought to bring a picnic, though. After this leisurely repair we crossed the "A604" at Ridgwell and headed for Clare via Ashen. Still a Glorious ride in perfect weather. Though it was pretty warm I was pleased that I had managed to finish two bottles by the time we reached the café and already getting through the refills as we sped back. After Clare it was, as almost always, a right turn to go through Poslingford and up the hill towards Stanningfield. This was when I felt that something wasn't quite right, I dropped back rapidly up this short (but sharp) hill that normally (these days) I manage quite comfortably. And I'm on the best bike and all. Get back on before Stansfield, pass the group, charge the bank up past the church . . and die again. Peter S-W passes me, with his rear tyre partly deflated. I only catch a distant glimpse of the ride two or three times before they finally disappear over the summit of the Cote de Hawkedon (see picture). Between Stansfield and Hawkedon Stephen L catches up with me, and thanks me for waiting - what a tactful chap, or was it sarcasm? We rode together (he waited after each climb, even uneven road repairs were becoming a challenge by this stage) until the point where I turned left up to Whepstead. At least SL had sound reasons for feeling slightly sub-optimal, having had no tea stop and passing his previous longest ride distance at about 60 miles. He expressed the desire to spend the afternoon asleep in his garden before turning out to collect Mrs Linden from the last London Train at Cambridge.
It is said that history is written by the victors but, as I have said before in similar circumstances, clubrun accounts can end up being recorded by the loser who gets dropped. But I'm not going to complain, I knew my way home (always do). I just regret not having the opportunity to say 'goodbye'.. . . . . . .sob. . . . .
SJH   PS, I haven't got the hang of moving pictures around on this latest version of Blogger - as you can see. I hope for improvements, especially if someone out there has a few tips . . . . .

 . . . . . .and another

Stephen L & Dale at the start

What got missed out over the last two years . . . .

Yesterday I released the Deer encounter account from 2010. On closer examination of the dusty corners of the 'drafts' section of the ramshackle archive of the SJH blog I realise that there are fragments of this and that which could possibly bear the glare of daylight on the screens of those who follow (lately in vane) my accounts of life awheel.
SJH

7th April 2010 Peter H, Darren Fowler, Tom-Tom, Ron Fisher, Gareth Doman John Gould and SJH were joined by Tim from the USA, who is over on a visit - his son is recently returned from Afghanistan, is based at Lakenheath and a keen cyclist. Tim is keen, too, but hasn't done more than a handful of miles since last summer when he first switched to a road bike from ATB. He's done a lot of skiing though, and this kept him afloat for the close to 60 miles of undulating Suffolk that he endured this morning. The picture above was taken by a member of staff at 'Mere Moments' in Diss.

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14 April 2010. USA Tim was back for more, Al MacPherson dipped his toe into the wonder of Wednesdays and Darren turned up for the last Mercredi before a run of unfavourable shifts. Nathan was due back in Bury for a driving lesson, so would be turning back before tea.

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21st July 2010. Tony "Wrong-way" Panting. Two weeks b4 the Lynmouth flood in 1952 had stayed at cottage that was swept away. He could have been a statistic, instead of a legend. Thinking of legends - who else is having a sub-optimal farewell season?

New venue, old attitudes. Peter warns against parking in the car park - 'they' would want to charge, because 'they' wanted £15 for his Rambling group to park there. Also has seemingly-obligatory sign forbidding just about everything, starting with Cycling and including Ball Games except (possibly) walking (though walking too slowly might cause anxiety and suspicions of loitering). Keen to avoid the latter, we moved off at a modest pace pausing only for SJH to nip down to the Bus Shelter and check for riders in the wrong place. I note that the website hasn't been changed yet.

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(date about a week after the above) Justin, Jack, Peter H, Jeff Agricole, Dawn, Richard Muchmore, a guy named Paul on a first-time ride, Glenn Morris (the one who isn't Glenn Grant), Tom-Tom, Tiger Tony and me (SJH).  We met up at our revised venue of NEW GREEN (there is a sign to the New Green Centre, off Station Road in Thurston, on the Eastern side) and had a short but amiable discussion with the lady who looks after the Centre and its car park (we may not use it at present, but possibly at some time in the future we'll cut a deal involving a donation ) during which we tried to project an amiable , approachable impression.

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Thetford Garden Centre - in the grounds of Kilverstone Hall, which used to be the home of the Zoo that achieved fame via those stickers in the rear windows of thousands of ageing family saloons. I knew it well, but only because of the stickers - I never went there. Perhaps that was were they went wrong?

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4th August 2010. How far is it to the far side of Livermere from Thurston New Green? Not far, is how far, and it was the distance that we travelled before the first puncture. As the pictures show, Peter was having quite a tough time even though Tom-Tom was providing assistance. With all the latest techniques acquired at Elmy Cycles' puncture-repair seminar that he attended last winter, and with the aid of my now-famous tool (a putter-on-er-er of reluctant tyres) Peter was all done in a mere twenty minutes or so. Then it was noticed that Paul-on-his-first-Wednesday-ride had a flat rear tyre. This took a little longer. The scenes below took place outside Livermere Village Hall.

After a total stop of  nearly 3/4 of an hour the ride finally got under way. I didn't get as far as describing the remainder of the ride.

Richard sees something

Peter Models his Overshoe modifications

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8th May 2012. The day began with sunshine, then clouded over and then brightened. Perfect tactical weather to get the riders out of bed and into the car and off to the races. The rain came much later and, not for the first time the final race was run on wet roads with grey cloud overhead and pavements now emptied of spectators. The huge amount of snaps and vids I took filled memories and emptied batteries. I was taking the video for Michael Lawson to turn into a record of the day, so needed to begin with the setting-up, against a background of the village waking up. I took most of this with my compact Canon Ixus (nice and discreet) rather than Polly's proper video Cannon Legria  that I didn't yet fully understand. The results looked quite usable. I couldn't have imagined that I would lose nearly all of the stills and video taken . But I did. I got someone to recover most of the data - but there were quite random chunks that have gone forever.

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15 August 2010: How Dare Dat Deer Do Dat?

Buckley's Tea Room

This Blog was found down the back of a settee in my blog Archive. Unsent and unappreciated. Yes; the year is 2010!

With the wind from the North East, the logical route wouldn't be one that took us to the South West. However, when a new venue for tea is discovered it has to be visited at once. So Castle Hedingham it was to be. Justin led us with a directional fluency few could have questioned due to that part of Essex being considered another country to we West Suffolk-ers. We had a Tom-Tom in reserve, just in case a second opinion was needed, but he was able to relax in the bunch free of all responsibility. It was Castle Hedingham that we needed, rather than dear Sible, and the tearooms that some say used to be the site of Buckley-Saxon Cycles (and others muttered that the real site was "just over there") all we know is that the Buckley bit remains in the tea room title, and that the service was very friendly (if a touch confused and uncoordinated for the total approval of Peter Heath, our Teafinder General). We were surprised to find a startled-looking Mike Bowen and friends already seated! Part of the building was given over to Bric-a-Brac and Bygones, all for sale and some bizarre (a chest of drawers in the shape of a Cello anyone?).

As we set off up the fine main street (a touch steep for 'café legs') we past an early Georgian house with a Blue Plaque. I was just able to make out the name of one of my favourite twentieth century English artists, Eric Ravilious. The journey home seemed straight forward, if a little brisker than the outward run. Some miles after leaving Glemsford Tom-Tom took a right turn for a peaceful ride home at his own pace. Then it happened.

Tricia was riding on my right, and we were chatting about something or other that has now quite gone out of my head when it happened. I don't think that we could, in the cirsumstances, be expected to identify the Gender of the Beast. Mercifully, the number of the beast amounted to just the one, and it was most certainly a DEER As to the type of deer - follow the link, and you decide. All I know is that this face appeared from the right and just above handlebar height and attached to a very solid body. The animal being unavoidable a crash became inevitable and the result was regrettable.
I was lucky in landing mostly on the grass verge - swiftly followed by Barry and Adi. Tricia had a high gravel-rash score, specially her right (?) arm. Every one gathered round and, as you can see from the picture, my bike received a great deal of attention. Julian was very concerned that I had bumped my (unprotected) head, and I was very concerned that my front wheel was badly damaged - though probably rideable. Tricia felt it important that she start riding again at once (must be a horsey thing) and was escorted homewards by Julian Long - with a transfer to motor car driven by Mrs L chez Long at Gt Barton.
I was escorted home by a select and watchful group, my main concern was the amount of wobble in my front wheel. I was offered a lift home from Bury, but (as one does) I politely refused. I did, however, accept Justin's company for the entire route home.

SJH