2011 Suffolk Punch Reliability Ride

Report on the West Suffolk Wheelers & Tri Club

Suffolk Punch Reliability Trial
Sunday 6 February 2011

Last Sunday, 85 riders signed on for the annual Suffolk Punch reliability trial, organised by the West Suffolk Wheelers and Triathlon Club. The record number of entrants was partly due to riders wanting to catch up with their training after the hard winter; but perhaps mainly because the entry fee had been waived, and riders were asked for donations towards the East Anglian Air Ambulance – who had provided valuable assistance at a club-run accident in early January.

This year’s Suffolk Punch followed the same 55 mile route as last year’s - and took riders out through Hawstead, Lawshall, Shimpling, Hartest, Hawkedon, Clare, Stradishall, Wickhambrook, Dalham, Ashley, Newmarket, Moulton, Ousden, Hargrave, Whepstead and back through Hawstead. Plus a 40 mile option which missed out the Dalham/Newmarket loop.

First to arrive back at Nowton Village Hall were Ron Fisher, Jonathon Sjolin and Steve Willet, having covered the 40 mile route well within the 15 mph average speed time limit. It was good to see Ron riding so well, as he was one of the three riders injured in the January accident. 16 other riders made it back inside the 15 mph average, while 14 came in at 13 mph and another nine at 11 mph.

Next it was the turn of the 55 mile groups to arrive back. Hot on the heels of the 40 milers, were five riders from the 18 mph group, who had made light work of the strong winds and endless hills, and returned in under three hours: Jonathan Howe, Brian Phillips, David Giffin, Dale Sturman and Simon Daw turned in a remarkable performance. Remarkable too was the performance of the Wheelers’ rising young star, Alan Trolove. He had hung on to the flying quintet until the climb up through the Newmarket Gallops, where he lost contact. He stayed focused and came home with two minutes to spare for an 18 mph average. Brothers James and Paul Rooke also rode strongly to get just inside the cut-off time. Lee Sturman didn’t quite make it; however, for much of the ride he was alone with no one to share the work into the wind.

23 riders achieved the 15 mph average, three the 13 mph (including the Wheelers’ resident photographer and artist, Stephen Hill, who in spite of laying awake the night before memorising the route, managed to go off course and clock up the extra miles that made all the difference to his time), and two the 11 mph. Eight didn’t finish the ride and three were outside the time limits.

Another successful event, made even better by the generosity of the riders who contributed almost £600 towards the vital service provided by the East Anglian Air Ambulance. Thanks also to the cake-makers and tea ladies, who helped in the riders’ recovery process.

Justin Wallace 7 February 2011

15 of us lurked about near the New Green Centre in Thurston - the car park was locked (presumably a Seasonal Issue) so those in cars were parked provocatively - but not a problem of our making. After so much ice following quite a bit of snow, we were pathetically grateful for the single-figure positive temperature and thick mist. Personally, I'd have been content with driving rain and half a gale after a month off the bike. Peter was in charge, and had emailed the hard core the day before to warn us that the ride would be at a moderate to modest pace because (a) Peter has had back and chest problems in December, and isn't feeling quite the thing, and (b) because he apparently accosted a young runner called Mary Narey recently and persuaded her to come and join us on her bicycle for her first ever ride with a group. Turning into quite the Derbyshire Don Giovanni is our Pete. One to watch. I say no more. Another to watch will be Mary elle meme who kept up well in trainers and toeclips, and will be a very handy climber pretty soon (though tall, Mary doesn't look as if she has problems fighting gravity)

We kept to fairly main roads to avoid possible remains of ice, but as far as the standard of driving we witnessed it was turkey season. At least three vehicles, at various times, charged into the gloom to pass all of us, only to meet another vehicle coming the other way - both cars coming to a halt (luckily)on each occasion. One Turkey managed this twice - the second time the small truck approaching him broke with convention, and didn't stop, so it was a very near miss indeed. Many cars passed while going round blind bends. We saw far too many displaying no lights - including a dark blue saloon with blue light on the roof! On our return journey we took to larger lanes rather than smaller main roads, and the first car we met immediately pulled to the side of the road and stopped for us to go through. There's a lesson here, maybe.

We experienced the Dawn of the age of the puncture, as the poor girl suffered two within half an hour. Her bike had been serviced by Nathan (he delivered it to New Green - what service) and the first punctured tube was replaced by Richard Farrow. I'm not making any sort of a point here, except perhaps that Dawn is innocent. Anyway, the second replacement tube survived the remainder of the ride. And was fitted by RF. Why am I writing this rubbish?

We rode through Lavenham and on (eventually) through Monks Eleigh to tackle the climb followed by false flat that would take us to our Café of the Year 2010 at Hollowtrees farm, Semer. A break formed on the climb and, with some determined work by Ron Fisher and Justin we managed to drag back Glenn Morris who was gamely making a solo bid (on the same fixed gear of 72.5" as myself) for the Café Prime. Now lined-out, Justin was doing a handy impression of an egg whisk as he showed the beginnings of his Marmotte form. Just don't Peak too early Justin. Justin's son Jack was commendably tolerant of his Dad's juvenile behaviour, even though he had to suffer with lack of quality miles, and riding about twice as much bicycle in the form of his recently commissioned Bob Jackson. Tea was welcome, and we were welcomed warmly by the wonderfully cheerful staff.

Out into the gloom again, and back down to Monks Eleigh, along to Lavenham and thence home via Preston, Brettenham and Rattlesden (almost). Back by 1pm, with 46 miles on the clock (it's looking a bit pale around the display, so may need a new battery, so maybe I really did 56 or, even, 66?). A quick hose down for the bike, lunch, and a deep, hot bath. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh.

What with gloves and five layers of clothing, I couldn't handle the camera well enough to adjust the white-balance. It would have sounded a bit precious to bring everyone to a standstill just to make an adjustment. So, no picture. But there may be one if I put this on the Blog, I feel a drawing coming on

SJH

Wednesday 15 Sept 2010: A Dawn Flight

There are cultures where it is the convention to talk of your "miserable house" , "ugly, ill favoured wife" or "unsuccessful and untalented husband" so that you don't incur the wrath of whichever spiritual omnipotence (a.k.a. God) that you worship. This may have been an unfortunate misunderstanding of the expression "The Lord thy God is a Jealous God".

As an extension of this, we will sometimes avoid making remarks that might sound pretty crass if things go badly "I haven't had a puncture in months" "I never hurt myself badly if I fall off my bike" "I feel invincible today" or "I know, this is all going SO well, let's invade Russia".

Tempting fate, giving a hostage to fortune, speaking too soon.

I did that today. Chatting to Ron Fisher I said "back in the 1980s we used to be pretty worried by very strong wind, but these days it never crosses my mind to (say) cancel a ride because of a brisk breeze". About half an hour later, poor Dawn D'Amarco was blown sideways, and fell head first into a deep ditch. Sorry Dawn.

The remainder of the ride was conducted slowly and with caution. We had tea at the Lakeside Café at Onehouse (that may not be the correct name, but it IS a Café, and it IS by a Lake. The sun was now out, and still had enough warmth for us to spread ourselves around outside. There was a definite French feel to the set up. French people a passionate about fishing (among many other fields of endeavour) and Cafés by fishing lakes are frequently encountered, and they tend to be basic. If I say that this one was basic, I mean them no harm. It was friendly and informal in a manner that lacked any hint of self consciousness. And the sun was shining, which always helps. Under normal circumstances I would consider it too close to home for a 'proper' tea-stop. On this day it was just what was needed.

SJH

Ride For Luke, 12 July 2010

The reason for this short but enjoyable ride was a sombre one. Luke Southgate was but one of the casualties of the war in Afghanistan, but to his parents on the Mildenhall Estate in Bury he was everything, their hero, their son and their loss.

West Suffolk Wheeler and indefatigable Ultra-Man triathlete Simon Bourne had just returned from a multi-charity ride, accompanied by friends based at RAF Honington, which had taken them from the Rock of Gibraltar to Bury, with a tribute to Luke as the mainstay of his efforts. We were there on Angel Hill as representatives of the Wheelers, invited by Simon to lead a ride over the final miles to RAF Honington.

Now, Simon has connections. He served with the RAF Regiment (whose base is at Honington) as a PTI (Physical Training Instructor) in the 1980s, and subsequently with the Police in Bury, again as a PTI. He could be described as a man hard enough to be able to teach the hardest men how to be hard. These two parts of his life meant that not only were we allowed onto Honington base, but also we were escorted all the way by three Police motorcyclists and a Traffic Car. Simon and his partners on the 'RockRide' looked remarkably fresh, despite 1,600 miles that included 35 degree temperatures through Spain and hauling themselves over the Pyrenees.

There were, as far as I could ascertain, 20 WSW riders in full Club Colours, plus RAFCC members and Police cyclists making a total that the East Anglian Daily Times claimed to be 50 - and who am I to contradict that respected Organ? We had been promised a Police Escort and, by Jove, we got one. Three motorcyclists whizzing to and fro, stopping traffic at lights and roundabouts, plus the car following behind. This luxury took some getting used to - the automatic reaction to these hazards being to slow down in preparation to stop - but we soon got the hang of it, and decided that this was the one missing element from our Clubruns. We turned left onto the Mildenhall Road Estate, and negotiated the traffic-calming system that seemed to be based entirely (and thriftily) on the use of neglected potholes, to reach Luke's family's road. His family were gathered in a group on the verge outside their house, clapping and cheering. We felt very moved and extremely humbled - after all, we'd only ridden from Angel Hill, and felt unworthy. It was Simon and friends who had done all those sweltering miles.

As we rode along, I was asked by Forrest McCracken (weapons systems specialist in USAAF, recently returned from Afghanistan, Wheeler for over a year) "what's the significance of Gibraltar?". I flannelled a bit then moved up the peleton to ask Simon.
"Rock Apes" he said. "Used to be based on Gibraltar in the early days, so the RAF Regiment are known as the 'Rock Apes' ". The link will fill you in with two versions of this.

As we entered the Base, we passed the Primary School; all the teachers and pupils were lined up on the verge waving, cheering and clapping. Again, we Wheelers felt that we should be keeping a low profile. There was, understandably, a bit of a delay at the gate, then were escorted by a landrover round the whole of the perimeter road. It's around four miles! The hangar that was our destination was, well, huge. Like an aircraft hangar, in fact, and it contained yet another cheering crowd, this time mothers and pre-school children. Even more moving. Some of us driven to pretending to mop the sweat from our brows as we dabbed our eyes.

A tremendous experience.

SJH

A Cautionary Tale; (Never Volunteer)

On an elevated roundabout over a stretch of A11 which was, with its off-white concrete carriageways, reminiscent of the first Autobahnen of1930s Germany (only a thundering Auto-Union setting a speed record was missing), I was doing my time in the service of our sport by pointing down the slip road as each rider rounded the corner.

After 20 minutes of combined photography and arm-waving, my panama hat was lifted from my head by the strong Southerly wind, and flung onto the tarmac between me and the traffic-island. Instinctively, I leapt from the verge to pin down the escaping hat. My sandal hooked itself on the raised curb and I was propelled in an arc to a two-point landing; those points being right knee and the palm of right hand (which was still clutching my camera). This hand-camera combo hit the hat dead-centre. So at least I had range and direction spot on. There was blood. From hand to camera and from knee through trousers. And the camera seems to be mortally wounded, with internal injuries, though bearing only the tiniest scar on one corner of its case. It had, however, vomited its battery onto the tarmac.

Well damn, is what I say. Over the following two and a half hours I had time to dwell on the well-spent morning, unable to take photographs to make the time pass, and glancing at the blood oozing through my best fifteen year-old Gap chinos.

The event? Well, there is the (probably apocryphal) story of the journalist interviewing Abraham Lincoln's widow after the President's assassination at Ford's Theater in 1865 "But apart from that, Mrs Lincoln, what did you think of the show" - in other words, momentous though it all was, the National '100' had ceased to be my main concern.

The event? (take II) The CTT National 100 mile Championship was won by a thundering Auto-Union called Michael Hutchinson in a very fast time indeed (which may have been 3 hrs 26 mins). The chap from the Chelmer CC who started just one minute ahead of Hutch at 149, took about an hour longer to finish. Don't get me started on seeding for National TTs. Too late, I've started so I shall finish: they insist on approving what you've laid out, then criticise the end product when armed with hindsight in the form of a result gained by a rider several days after the start sheet has been published. The point of all this rambling rant being? We had to hang around for a very long time at the end, and I wasn't in the mood.

Also, Julia Shaw broke womens' event record with another extremely fast time that I am ashamed I can't remember, So well done everyone. Just remember, cycle racing can be dangerous - even if you're only marshalling.

Mind how you go now SJH.

Espresso Ride 27 June 2010. Wickham Market three ways.

First I must apologise for lack of photos - I didn't notice that my camera was set to video, so snaps are tiny video clips. I'll maybe check them. Secondly, I would like to acknowledge the help of my son, James, (right) without who's co-operation I wouldn't have got extremely drunk on Friday night(Falling-over-in-the-garden-in-slow-motion-at-4.15am- but-avoiding-the-pond drunk) and wouldn't have started this ride, 30 hrs later, still pretty severely dehydrated.

We were 14 in sunny Cornhill, namely (in no particular order) Paul Callow, Barry Denny, Julian Colman, Julian Long, Ron Fisher, Ron Fisher's Optician (CTC T shirt - Ron later confessed that even he couldn't remember the poor guy's name) Richard Stiff, Stephen Cleale (who turned for home about 5 miles short of the "tea break")Deane Hill, Richard Farrow (on another trip from Marlborough) Adi Grimwood, Jonathan Howe - fresh from an upside-down End to End ride ('JOGLE' ?), and myself SJH. With the wind south-ish but promising to be changeable. Julian bravely took the initiative and announced an outing to Wickham Market, leading us smartly out of town in a generally eastwards direction. Adi then hit the front, and gave every impression of re-living his Lotus Series at Hethel the previous Wednesday, dragging us all in his not inconsiderable wake at a rate equivalent to covering over twenty miles in a single hour.

The pace remained rapid most of the way to Debenham, where occurred the first minor difference of opinion on the route. I suggested a 'right' that cut a corner and avoided a blind junction, but Julian prevailed and we took the two sides of the triangle and passed the exit of my suggestion. To Julian's credit, he acknowledged his error. His other error was to admit of any error at all when leading a ride. When this sort of problem arises, and you're faced with that tricky blind right turn, you take the ride left. Without pause, thus putting the smart-arse (me) firmly in their place. You then face busking a route-recovery over the next few miles - but everyone on the ride still has faith in you, so it's worth the effort. After all, at the end of the day, what it all comes down to, if you think about it, not being funny, is; if you were worried about extra distance you wouldn't have left Cornhill on the first place, now would you?

There were a few dissenting voices drifting up from the rear of the peleton at one or two route-choices, but overall, I felt we were well on course. At one point, however, I heard Deane voicing a strongly negative view of a left that we were taking. It later became obvious that he'd gone his own way, and taken Richard Farrow with him.

We carried on until, about to pass Easton Farm Park, we stopped and thought about going there for tea. This was vetoed because of the likelihood of Deane and Richard waiting for us in Wickham-Mkt. Shortly, we swept into Wickham Market market square, hot, thirsty and ready for scones. The Café was shut. I've found a photo of happier times; a Wednesday, when it was open

We piled into a Newsagent/Sweetie shop for what sustenance we could find. Adi found 'Quick Energy ' Capsules reduced to 50p each. He and I bought two each. Since it said on the label 'do not take more than one dose per day' we took it that they would be effective. I put one in my bottle (re-filled with water from a pack that Julian had bought for two pounds. Thanks Julian, I owe you a Tea) and necked the other as soon as I got home. Adi also found the ice creams, and bought what I think was a Magnum Double-Caramel. Sugar-rush or what?

Richard Stiff won the Samaritan Award, for pumping up the rear tyre of a young man who asked for help. Apparently he had gone to a 'cycle shop' round the corner, and the man had said "I'll sell you a pump, but I make my living selling bikes not mending them". One day (we thought) he'll get his comeuppance (if there is any justice in this world. Oh dear, he probably won't, then).

A short stop then, 15 minutes, tops. Retrace to Easton and - guess what? - well most of you were there, so you know that we split properly this time. This wasn't a trial separation, it was a divorce, decree absolute and all. I'm still not certain how I came to be following Adi, Richard Farrow and Julian Long on the left hand choice, but I fancy that it was because it was the way we came out. The right-hand faction had their choice endorsed by Ron's Optician who Knew Routes due to lots and lots of Audax-ey rides (so Ron told me on Wednesday).

Just as our sinistral breakaway reached what I knew to be the route home, Adi took us in a curve, back onto the Wickham Mkt- Needham Mkt road which he felt would be quicker. Well, it was certainly faster. As we started a 'through-and-off' chain, I could feel that I was fading fast (or should that be "slowly"?). Adi gave me aid at this point. Usual stuff about concentrating on the wheel in front. I've tried that a few times, and I can now reveal that it doesn't work unless one ALSO has a bit of energy left. Adi could now see that "the power of the will" was useless without "the power of the legs" and was kind enough to push me a few times, which was help most gratefully received.

By Needham Mkt I'd run out of drink and needed a shop. No shop. But a pub! the image of a pint of shandy was irresistable. Down in two goes, never touched the sides, as they say. Others trouped in for health-giving mineral water, and there was good-natured merriment at my expense (I think that was what it was). Tottered home with the help of my chums with 74 miles completed. Tried to look human at family lunch. James had been rowing at Cambridge in the morning - but then he had 7 other blokes to help him, so it hardly counted.

SJH

Espresso Ride 20 June 2010. Return of the Blogger

So where did May go? What happened?
But I'm back on the keyboard, and here we go.

It was a cold day for Fathers, but the wardrobe decisions ranged from shorts'n'short sleeves to longs'n'long - that is from June to early March. We March Hares were the most comfortable on the way out, whereas the June Bugs were more at ease on the run home.

We listened, with feigned sympathy, as Dean told us about his struggle on the Bury '100'. 4h 35m glued to Brian Phillips' wheel "he was going like a train" wailed our Sunday Tormentor. Some of us wore sympathetic expressions, but not all.


Having counted the names on the register, I have a total of 11 names - but someone said there were 14 of us - if you read this and your name's missing, tell me. There were the two 'Syngenta' gentlemen (is one of you Simon?) riding strongly in preparation for London-Paris (in a planned two days), guest appearances by Richard Farrow (ex Wheeler and currently Chippenham & District)No one was able to come up with a route. The wind was from the North West, and I'd told Deane that we would NOT be going to Ely (the otherwise logical destination). So I led the group out via well travelled routes towards Knettishall and beyond. At the point when Mark (who had ridden in from Gazeley and was thus some 18 miles ahead of the game) asked me how far we were from the tea stop, I realised that we were heading in a rather more northerly direction than I had planned. "I reckoned on another ten miles, to give us between 30 and 35 miles before tea - and then 20-25 afterwards" I reassured him. "yes, but how far is it going to be" countered the ever-direct Mark. "Ten miles" I replied, whilst concentrating on a silent prayer that I might be right. We were heading towards Attleborough, but I was rescued by a sign to Old Buckenham to our right, which meant that we could join the B1077 Diss-wards . We were picking up the first signs of a tailwind at this point and, 4 miles short of Diss I took a punt on a left across Boyland Common - which gave us a full-on tailwind and bursts of 28/29 mph with sweeping bends and good visibility. My choice was vindicated by Sharon's local knowledge (though I only found this out after we were committed). We were within a mile of Bressingham, a destination often greeted with "Oh, not again", and yet those at the front still had no idea which way to turn (sorry, I can be quite waspish at times) . We arrive at refreshment within the estimated ten miles, and on time (11am). Rather more efficient service at Blooms, and excellent scones (that seemed to have been crossed with rock cakes). Paul bought (and ate, see picture) a confection that resembled a chocolate vuvuzela. I note from my snaps that several riders look tired. Note on Vuvuzelas; I think that this could be the third person plural of an irregular, reflexive, French verb "vous vous Zela".

Our return was by means one of the more direct routes, and taken at a fairly brisk, wind-assisted pace. After I had peeled off at Norton, and gone through the side gate into our garden, I realised two things. (1) No one was at home - which I should have remembered and (2) I was still feeling fresh, and could have gone with the group back to Bury, and clocked a total of 76 instead of 62 miles.

In the bathroom was a card and present from Polly, my photo captures the scene

SJH