Eight Old Men Suffer with Wind

I had had an idea. I needed a very small hinge, and had been told that the place to go was Partridges in Hadleigh. Since space wouldn't be a problem (I needed the smallest hinge possible) we could combine my shopping with a tea taken at "The Orangery". Everything hinged on gaining the agreement of the majority of the ride. Ask any politician, and he'll tell you that the electorate often arrive at the wrong answer. L'Equipe de Mercredi are a sensible bunch, and we set off for Hadleigh. Those voting in favour: Pete Gay, Peter Heath, Justin, Ron, Tony, T-T, Barry & SJH.

After a brief briefing with T-T, I risked leading us in the direction that I thought we'd agreed - until I went wrong, and T-T took the wheel and steered us faultlessly for the rest of the way. The wind was ferocious. Because we were riding through Suffolk, on rolling Suffolk roads, we were bashed and buffeted from each side in turn, then head on, with occasional whooshes of tailwind. Always a worry, getting a tailwind when you think you're riding into the proverbial prevailing. We made one of our increasingly frequent visits to Offton, turned right down the dip and up, then a left fork for the truly brutally steep climb towards Flowton. My veins, eyes and muscles swelled and popped with effort as the air rang to the sound of desperate downward changes of variable accuracy (and we all thought that indexing would bring an end to all that clattering and expleting). Richard T-T had the good grace to avoid 'The Channel'.

Now here's a thing; searching Google, I just typed 'Flowton, The Channel, Suffolk' - and the second entry was for my Blog about 'going with the Flowton' and linked back to the WSW website. A measure of success? I like to think so.

Cut to the chase. We've just breasted the summit of the Cote de Flowton, all now gasping for breath (possible exception Ron Fisher, who is showing excellent form after five weeks in Oz with no cycling - what else did he get up to?) and are avoiding The Channel, and heading broadly Hadleigh-wards. We join a road signposted 'Hadleigh 4' , then almost immediately left it by means of a right turn that said 'Semer 2 1/2'. All was, of course, OK, it was a short cut and a traffic avoidance ploy. Even more ferocious winds just before descending to Hadleigh, mostly crosswinds of the de-stabilising variety which we managed to survive. The Orangery was excellent, and in new hands since we used to use them regularly (we gave up after finding them closed a couple of times). We were called "gentlemen" by an imposing lass in waitress black. "Your scones are home made, aren't they? I'll have a fruit scone with jam, and a pot of tea - and I'd like a jug of HOT water with that please" thus, Peter Heath, Terror of the Tea Room and East Anglia's premier Tannin and Caffeine Critic orders. I can't resist another go at the bacon sandwich (about 50p more than at Dance Eats), came with the ketchup in a miniature version of the Dance Eats china container. White bread, which is only proper for a bacon sandwich. Heaven.

Now Richard (T-T) had guided us to Hadleigh; he pointed out the whereabouts of Partridges - and then delivered the final touch as we sat in the café "and you need to go upstairs for what you want". I think that is the finest touch so far in one of T-T's guided tours. Not just the town, nor merely the building, but the floor. Shaw Fox will be pleased to know that I found what I needed, and would therefore not leave Hadleigh in an un-hinged state.

The return journey was, as we suspected from the outward, subject to the same mixture of wind direction with only a modicum of tailwind and loads of the other varieties. The hardest bit of headwind was quite a surprise; we turned left after Ringshall (having taken the cunning wiggle round Wattisham Airfield) and met the 25mph sou'westerly wind head-on. Unfortunately, there had been a fast descent where I touched 30.6mph (158rpm). This, unsurprisingly, took quite a bit of the zippppp out of my legs for the ensuing short sharp climb - so I was already off the back when we hit the wind. Out of the saddle on the flat, doing 10mph!. Once all together again, we reached Felsham, and I bade my chums farewell - taking the route via Gedding & Drinkstone to reach home by around 1.30 with a mere 50-something miles on the clock.

An email from Tiger gave me news of possibly the most thrilling part of the ride

"After you left us we had what would be a grand finale for your blog of today.

Approaching uphill just before Hessett and Peters favourite 30 mile sign, I was puffing (or panting!) at the rear and thinking 'after the momentous efforts of today's tortuous ride surely nobody would be foolish enough to 'go for it'.

Justin and Ron were in front, Peter behind on the inside and Richard on his right me hanging on at the rear.

I could see Peter 'twitching' probably wishing he was on the outside. I then saw Richard change down into top and looking ahead for the sign. We got to the top and I thought to myself "I don't feel too bad can I surprise them from the rear? So as the road straightened out my brain sent the message to my aching legs - GO. I slapped into my big ring and belted past them all on the outside accompanied by blasphemous curses and unrepeatables. I was away and going like a maniac but I had committed the sin of going just a bit too early and it was a long way to the sign. Sure enough I became the leadout man and both of them tore past in the final yards with Richard taking the honours.

Justin and Ron saw these three mad arses bobbing and weaving flat out to Hessett and remarked afterwards

"amazing - that sprint was between a combined age of 205"!!!!!

A hard ride today but well worth it."

Whew - pretty vivid, Tony.

As a postscript:- I was checking WIGGLE (make Wiggle purchases vis the our Website and the Club gets a rake-off) and saw a saddle I liked the look of, available from 'Charge', makers of the Charge 'Plug' fixie. It's called the 'Spoon'; fair enough. Another is called the ' Knife' which seems a touch unfortunate. And then there is the 'STOOL' . . . . presumably available in brown.

Not many photos - a bit breezy for riding along with a camera in one hand, and we didn't have any punctures! - But at least some of us were happy

SJH

Off the front, out the back - and going with the Flowton

Cloudy, possibility of rain, ten riders ready to face the rigours of South Suffolk. Sharon had flogged her Bianchi, finally having faced up to the fact that, though beautiful, it was just too big. Riding a steel frame of a certain age proved no handicap. Jonathan Howe was back for more after an eventful Espresso ride on Sunday, Mike Cross provided the otherwise missing ray of sunshine


and Richard 'Tom-Tom' Seggar was our routemaster for the Mystery Tour. The others on the bus were Justin, Peter H, Jeff Agricole, Ron and our ever-perky 12-hour hero Tiger Tony. Checking bus-passes was your correspondent SJH.

No surprises in the early part of the ride, just the usual 'tom-tom' convolutions, twists, turns and steep, narrow climbs followed by equally steep and uncomfortably narrow descents. We've been through Barking before, and sometimes Somersham – but seldom Offton.

Hadleigh raised the spirits (I'd not heard where our tea-destination would be), and Peter shouted “The Orangery's open!” to retreating backs and deaf ears. More of that shortly. I had now prised the secret of our Tea from Justin. East Bergholt sounds like a long way from Bury;
well, whilst not being a huge way away it is very far from near. Then we met the horse. We saw it in good time for a cautious approach. We were encouraged when the rider, on seeing ten brightly coloured riders weaving about in the road, and knowing – as we could not – that his mount was unimpressed with our presence, wheeled round in the road and briskly retreated, and sought protection in a driveway. We all (so we at the front thought) passed safely.

I have today discovered that this wasn't the case. Poor Peter was stuck the far side of the entrance, as the horse proceeded to do all in its not inconsiderable power to unseat the unfortunate (and, Mark Harris would probably maintain, incompetent) rider. We cyclists stick together, look out for each other, and the Wednesday ride is veritable Band of Bikies. So I'll quote from Peter's version “Ron looked back and [saw] my predicament, so decided to use the opportunity for a pee.”

I'll let Peter continue

“I then chased after the group, caught up at a T junction, then called them to a halt so Ron wasn't left guessing [wasn't that p*ssing?] The three of you obviously didn't hear the many shouts to stop and just kept going. By the time Ron arrived you were out of sight and way ahead. Shortly afterwards the route took a left and across many fields we could see the three of you out of the saddle on a decent climb and obviously oblivious to the fact that you had left the group way behind. We decided this was your own bloody fault, you were too far ahead to do anything about
it anyway and kept going. Ride leaders really should look over the shoulder every now and again, especially after junctions to ensure the group is together".

Quite so Peter.

Justin, Jonathan and I were (see above) oblivious to all of this. We found this quite challenging little hill. Long enough to be interesting, and for my weight penalty of 2 ½ stone to become a bit of a problem. We stopped and waited, presuming a puncture. Ho ho! we cried, they're certainly a long way behind. Finally we decided to go back and look. No sign at all, of course, but we reached the left turn they must have taken, and followed the signs for East Bergholt.

Tea was excellent, and taken in two separate groups, eying each other across the (now) sunlit terrace. Having got into a jam of our own making, Justin and I tucked into scones with jam of the Café's making (we asked). Jonathan had something slight that came in little packets.



Home via Flowton and The Channel (see previous ride accounts), Ringshall, Combs, Gt Finborough and home. 69 miles, and the weather sunnier but still not hot. The pace was sufficiently comfortable to allow me to mow the lawns when I got back.

Just two punctures; one for Justin and one for Tom-Tom. This last was in Jack's Lane, and the victim gallantly told us to carry on without him. It is generally considered wise to keep a safe distance from a puncture sufferer, as the photo shows

SJH