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

Now we are Six . . . A small but Perfectly formed Ride

On Saturday several riders took part in the Suffolk Byways Audax. Jonathan Howe was one of them. Knowing that Deane rode out to the 200k Mildenhall event a while back, maybe Jonathan felt that this was the way it should be done. Anyway, and for whatever reason, he rode out and back, covering 160 miles in total, arriving back in Bury as dusk fell and mere moments before rain fell. 09.00hrs saw Jonathan on parade for more miles. He confided that he felt that he ought to show his face, knowing that several regulars might be missing. Maybe there should be an award for such selfless action - perhaps a statuette of a cyclist banging his head repeatedly onto the handlebars?

Our select band set off as eight - Gareth, Pauls Rooke & Callow, Ed, Tristan, Dr Tom, Jonathan et Moi. Paul C talked me out of repeating my previous bright idea of Horsecroft Lane followed by every climb I could find (followed by my self-destruction) in favour of a more relaxed Newmarket Road, Westley Rd, Saxham sort of a route. At Wickhambrooke we swung along a loop that took us south of Newmarket and through to Dullingham where we went left along to Brinkley then hurtled down hill to Six Mile Bottom. I can't complain about the descent, I chose the route and I decided to ride a fixed gear of 72.5". My maximum of 30mph is 140rpm - but, as I say, that's my problem. By this time we had been six for about an hour - Gareth and Paul R having headed off to fulfill domestic commitments - and all five of my chums were waiting for me at the Bottom (6 Riders, 6 mile. Now we are Six). Dr Tom new his way around this area, having done a year's worth of Cambridge Clubruns - but, being a gentleman he allowed me the illusion (delusion?) of continuing to lead the ride today. Anglesea Abbey provided its light and airy ambiance and decent food. I provided the light relief when I shook my 'Fentimans' fizzy orange drink to mix up the sediment before unscrewing the cap (the fiasco's orange?). I thought everyone was looking at me in a concerned manner - they were aghast that anyone could be so stupid. The remaining Paul (Callow) provided paper napkins, the others dried their eyes from tears of laughter and Paul took a photo. I look as if I'm about to play the piano - an impression reinforced by the shades worn indoors. They're prescription, honest.

The journey home was the usual flat route, with a mainly following wind - I think that my 'souplesse' needs some work for this sort of riding. Who knows, eventually I might even be able to stop banging on about fixed. Ed, who considers 53 x 13 a medium gear, was responsible for quite a bit of pain when we allowed him on the front, Paul was Captain Sensible. The difference between 22 and 25 mph can be measured in discomfort as much as speed.

We had (Ok, I had) been talking of an early finish, but I must've taken us further than I thought on the way out because by the time I got home I'd done 76, just like last week. This distance may also be because I bottled it and turned left for Lackford rather than face the Cote de Risby Gallop - I think it may well be further via Lackford.

Next week, Hill Climb (check the web site)