No reference to punctures (please God and all his saints and any other denomination I can think of), today was a day to avoid the steep stuff. Skip and I had planned a trip to Wells via Cheddar gorge, and then back. For her, it was a way to exercise without going to a gym (currently without air conditioning) whereas for me it was a chance to cycle for three days in a row, as practice for next week's Tour of Wessex, albeit with lower mileage.
The arrangement to meet got us out of bed and down to the Square by 10AM, but it was there that hangover (her) and lethargy (me) intervened, and it was over to default mode. Glastonbury it is then.
And very pleasant it was too. Loads and loads of cyclists of all types, including roadies, mtbers and even a brace of tandems all out and about in the hot sunshine.This included the ToW organiser who passed us near Godney going in the opposite direction. He was being pursued by Mr White van man, busily chatting away on his mobile (van man that is), so much so that he only realised we were coming at the last minute. For once my serenity on such occasions (ahem) deserted me, and I told him to think about calling later.
Anyway, on to Glastonbury for coffee and cake(more cyclists outside the cafe) and then back via the moors to Mark and Cross. I had to loop out of Axbridge and back up the by-pass to ensure I hit 40 miles for the trip, making over 140 miles for the last three days. If I had been playing idiots vs cyclists the score would have been in the order of 75-1, which makes for a pretty good day in my book.
Bike clean, me clean, food in, all I need to do now is have lots of sleep and avoid all ill people and I'll be fine for the weekend. No problem. Gulp.
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/34241226
Sunday 23 May 2010
Saturday 22 May 2010
Fun in the Sun
It's official, summer is here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I have banned anyone in the office from complaining about it being "too hot" because after the longest winter since the Little Ice Age, or Krakatoa erupting or something like that, finally we have temperatures worthy of the month of May. Yesterday I rode to work and back, and as usual on such occasions I was leaving the house at about 6.30AM. Even in the gilet and skullcap I was overdressed, and by the time I came home, circuitously and hill-climbingly via Backwell Hill and the airport, it was humid, sticky, buggy and boiling.
A great thing happened on the way in yesterday. I don't think this could happen to anyone else but cyclists-an impromptu group of total strangers (if 3 constitutes a group) came together for a short time, rode together, shared some work, got our collective speed up, and then as our paths dispersed, we went our separate ways with just a simple shout of "cheers, see you". From Backwell to Ashton Park, about 5 miles I'd say, we had co-operated, taking turns on the front, with not a word spoken, we all knew what to do. I don't think any other sport in the world could do that.
My route to/from work: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/34044435
So today, leaving at the comparatively late hour of 8.45AM for an Axbridge Cycling Group outing, (as in bike ride, rather than something Tatchelesque- although it would be an interesting activity, a group of cyclist going round the country revealing people's closet-like tendencies), I knew summer kit was the order of the day.
Mrs MMAM says that almost exclusively I am scruffy and pay little heed to what I wear outside of work and cycling. This morning she even accused me of being stuck in a 19880s-fashion time warp. But she has a point about the cycling clothes, and after much faff, I settled on my new outfit, a very fetching red, white and black Giordana two piece. Problem though. What to do about the head? Being follically-challenged I needed to cover up to protect me from the sun. But as we were levels-bound I also knew I wanted some protection from the flies. So I adopted a pirate-style buff thing and suitably attired I headed down to Axbridge.
A peloton of 8, including two newbies, both of whom looked suspiciously fast. And that was before they even moved. One, who is a third my age, shall be known as "The Perfect Generator" because he generated so much power with barely any effort whatsoever. Of course I can ride over 100 miles in a day, and I'd like to think I have some endurance advantages. But I'm kidding myself really. When you are 45 the best you can do is to compete against yourself. And Knight of the Realm obviously, but then he's even older than me.
The PG's Mum was pretty good too, and despite one of our fastest ever rides, the two of them lived up to my suspicions without seeming to break sweat. I broke loads, in fact I'm still breaking it now, two hours after I got back.
It was very hot and a flat route down to Burnham and back was just what we needed. Skip describes it very well:
http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201005
After the ACG went their separate ways I continued, doing a loop up through Puxton, Weston and Banwell, to take my total mileage to 56 miles for the day, and 101 for the two days. I feel under prepared for next week's Tour of Wessex, so I'm hoping lying on the sofa will be the perfect preparation. Rest is important too, after all. Perhaps I'll have a dream about being young again, and winning the Tour de France. Or more likely dream about cleaning my bike, which I really must do, where's the sponge?
Here's Charlie:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/34102578
I have banned anyone in the office from complaining about it being "too hot" because after the longest winter since the Little Ice Age, or Krakatoa erupting or something like that, finally we have temperatures worthy of the month of May. Yesterday I rode to work and back, and as usual on such occasions I was leaving the house at about 6.30AM. Even in the gilet and skullcap I was overdressed, and by the time I came home, circuitously and hill-climbingly via Backwell Hill and the airport, it was humid, sticky, buggy and boiling.
A great thing happened on the way in yesterday. I don't think this could happen to anyone else but cyclists-an impromptu group of total strangers (if 3 constitutes a group) came together for a short time, rode together, shared some work, got our collective speed up, and then as our paths dispersed, we went our separate ways with just a simple shout of "cheers, see you". From Backwell to Ashton Park, about 5 miles I'd say, we had co-operated, taking turns on the front, with not a word spoken, we all knew what to do. I don't think any other sport in the world could do that.
My route to/from work: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/34044435
So today, leaving at the comparatively late hour of 8.45AM for an Axbridge Cycling Group outing, (as in bike ride, rather than something Tatchelesque- although it would be an interesting activity, a group of cyclist going round the country revealing people's closet-like tendencies), I knew summer kit was the order of the day.
Mrs MMAM says that almost exclusively I am scruffy and pay little heed to what I wear outside of work and cycling. This morning she even accused me of being stuck in a 19880s-fashion time warp. But she has a point about the cycling clothes, and after much faff, I settled on my new outfit, a very fetching red, white and black Giordana two piece. Problem though. What to do about the head? Being follically-challenged I needed to cover up to protect me from the sun. But as we were levels-bound I also knew I wanted some protection from the flies. So I adopted a pirate-style buff thing and suitably attired I headed down to Axbridge.
A peloton of 8, including two newbies, both of whom looked suspiciously fast. And that was before they even moved. One, who is a third my age, shall be known as "The Perfect Generator" because he generated so much power with barely any effort whatsoever. Of course I can ride over 100 miles in a day, and I'd like to think I have some endurance advantages. But I'm kidding myself really. When you are 45 the best you can do is to compete against yourself. And Knight of the Realm obviously, but then he's even older than me.
The PG's Mum was pretty good too, and despite one of our fastest ever rides, the two of them lived up to my suspicions without seeming to break sweat. I broke loads, in fact I'm still breaking it now, two hours after I got back.
It was very hot and a flat route down to Burnham and back was just what we needed. Skip describes it very well:
http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201005
After the ACG went their separate ways I continued, doing a loop up through Puxton, Weston and Banwell, to take my total mileage to 56 miles for the day, and 101 for the two days. I feel under prepared for next week's Tour of Wessex, so I'm hoping lying on the sofa will be the perfect preparation. Rest is important too, after all. Perhaps I'll have a dream about being young again, and winning the Tour de France. Or more likely dream about cleaning my bike, which I really must do, where's the sponge?
Here's Charlie:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/34102578
Sunday 16 May 2010
Zas Zsa Gabor's hardest sportive
Did Ms Gabor ever do a cyclosportive? The image, whilst strangely compelling is nonetheless very apt for my efforts in yesterday's Black Rat challenge-Bristol. I'm sure I don't have to spell it out for you do I? Oh all right.
It has been a great day today, at last it's beginning to feel like Spring. But yesterday morning dawned cold, damp, windy and Mr Kettley (does he still do weather?) said it could only get worse for us. For once he was right because by the time I got to Backwell school it was raining properly and black clouds were rolling in from across the Severn Estuary.
The Black Rat organisers had done a reasonable job though, and because it was fairly local I had decided to pitch up just before 9AM, and I was able to get started fairly soon after arriving. The route warmed up well with 5 or so miles round the North Somerset levels:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/North_Somerset_Levels
and it was apparent that the wind was howling across the moors. So I took shelter for a short period behind a couple of Cardiff University students. Nice chaps but not accustomed to group riding as they failed to indicate pot holes in the acceptable manner and I quickly realised I needed to follow their last-minute swerving technique if I was to remain puncture free.
In any case they were doing the 100km ride and quickly zoomed off, leaving me with an equally-accommodating veteran bunch that carried me to the base of Brockley Coombe. I did do a turn on the front to be fair, but once the road pointed up, the group split apart and it was solo city for almost the whole of the rest of the ride.
Last Thursday I had ridden to and from work, coming home the long way so that I could recce the road down from Felton to the Chew valley and up out of East Harptree.:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/33179693
I was glad I had done that for two respective reasons. First, I knew where the gravel was on the descent, and second I knew what to expect on the climb. Although early in the ride I think it was the hardest climb, about a mile and a half at an AVERAGE of 10%, with a sticky patch steeper than that in the middle. I was glad it was early on.
Once up on the top of the hill, and by now fairly wet, I got pretty cold, despite taking Skip's oft-repeated layering advice. Problem was I thought I would be taking them off through the day as it warmed up, not needing more as it cooled down. Across the top, down through Charterhouse then stopping at Lillypool cafe (for the first time ever as it's a bit too close to home normally)for the feedstop, before down Shipham Hill, into Cheddar.
Because another event was taking place there, Cheddar gorge was closed to motor traffic, which was an absolute joy. I decided to do the whole climb on the wrong side of the road, just because I could. Something for the grandchildren, oh yes.
The 100km riders peeled off at the top of the gorge, before we headed down the hill towards Rodney Stoke. Not, I'm glad to say, the gliding club hill, the other one. Steep and straight enough to deteriorate my brake blocks significantly, although they stopped me short of the A371, the sunday-driver's paradise. Now down onto the levels again, and the second brief opportunity to get a group going. This time, three of us did all the work in a loop back to Wells, getting up to 20mph at times.
It was then that the ride got seriously tough. Old Bristol Road. Never climbed it before, been down it a fair few times, and with over 50 miles in the legs, it proved testing as i ground up in the bottom gear. Over the top again and another steep descent down to West Harptree, before a left turn through Compton Bishop, Ubley and Blagdon. Another up, past Chew Valley HQ, to top of Burrinton Coombe, and down to the second feedstop. At "Bad Ass Bikes". It's for Mountain bikers, bless them (I used to be one so I can take the mick).
From there it was across to Wrington, up and over it's eponymous hill, across the plain to Kingston Seymour, Clevedon (up inevitably past the golf club there), up (inevitably) past Skip's Dad's house near Portishead, before the last big push up to Failand. The hill in lanes I'd not been on before, just seemed endless and by now I was fair exhausted.
All that was left was for my final sprint (or what passed for one after 100 miles) back though Wraxhall and Nailsea to the school and I was done. I'm still waiting for my official time, I think it was around 7 hours 20, with my computer recording 7.07 of moving time for the 103 miles, and the officials saying about 6500 of climbing. Charlie played up again, but I think my time was pretty good really given the terrain, conditions etc. The official standards for gold (5 hrs 20) and silver (6 hrs 20) are about the same as for the White Horse challenge, 13 miles shorter and about 3000 feet less climbing. How did they get that then?
I am sure there are tougher sportives, more climbing, longer mileage, bleaker terrain and all that. The difference with this one was the frequency of the hills. I was chatting with someone from work who also took part (just the 100km though) and he concurred. They seemed to take the route to every hill they could find in order to find another hill. So I never got into a good rhythm.
Some of the hills very steep ones, albeit short and sharp. So this meant that with the exception of two very small stretches, no groups were forming at all, so no drafting, no coasting and no recovery. So like Zsa Zsa, I did this one all alone, and factor in a fair breeze (as ever for cyclists it was always a headwind), plenty of rain, coldish temperatures (especially up at the altitude on Mendip)it made for a pleasantly hard and challenging day.
All that was actually pretty fine and dandy. However, and it is a very big however, what is inexcusable, heinous, generally egregious organisation and utterly, utterly wrong is this. THE ROUTE CROSSED OVER ITSELF!!!!!!!!!
I often see it said by cyclists that the idea of a local sportive is one that doesn't appeal. Their idea being that why should they pay money to cycle their own roads. I can see the point, but for me, this sportive was one of the best because it MADE me do all these hills and that route in one go. For starters I did actually find some new roads where I had never been before.
But there is more than that. Because I'd entered, paid my money and plodded round, I felt honour-bound to complete. If it had been a training ride I would have bailed at around mile 70, or worse, looked at the rain first thing and put it off for another time. Not only would I have missed the camaraderie from riding with 600 strangers (less the 5 from work who entered) but also I would never have tested myself.
The main thing was I enjoyed it, even more so now I have had a loaf of bread and six packets of pasta. Roll on the Tour of Wessex. I'm still recruiting domestiques if you fancy doing just one day. No? Oh well, me and Bunny will just have to share the work then.
Here's Charlie:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/33487902
It has been a great day today, at last it's beginning to feel like Spring. But yesterday morning dawned cold, damp, windy and Mr Kettley (does he still do weather?) said it could only get worse for us. For once he was right because by the time I got to Backwell school it was raining properly and black clouds were rolling in from across the Severn Estuary.
The Black Rat organisers had done a reasonable job though, and because it was fairly local I had decided to pitch up just before 9AM, and I was able to get started fairly soon after arriving. The route warmed up well with 5 or so miles round the North Somerset levels:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/North_Somerset_Levels
and it was apparent that the wind was howling across the moors. So I took shelter for a short period behind a couple of Cardiff University students. Nice chaps but not accustomed to group riding as they failed to indicate pot holes in the acceptable manner and I quickly realised I needed to follow their last-minute swerving technique if I was to remain puncture free.
In any case they were doing the 100km ride and quickly zoomed off, leaving me with an equally-accommodating veteran bunch that carried me to the base of Brockley Coombe. I did do a turn on the front to be fair, but once the road pointed up, the group split apart and it was solo city for almost the whole of the rest of the ride.
Last Thursday I had ridden to and from work, coming home the long way so that I could recce the road down from Felton to the Chew valley and up out of East Harptree.:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/33179693
I was glad I had done that for two respective reasons. First, I knew where the gravel was on the descent, and second I knew what to expect on the climb. Although early in the ride I think it was the hardest climb, about a mile and a half at an AVERAGE of 10%, with a sticky patch steeper than that in the middle. I was glad it was early on.
Once up on the top of the hill, and by now fairly wet, I got pretty cold, despite taking Skip's oft-repeated layering advice. Problem was I thought I would be taking them off through the day as it warmed up, not needing more as it cooled down. Across the top, down through Charterhouse then stopping at Lillypool cafe (for the first time ever as it's a bit too close to home normally)for the feedstop, before down Shipham Hill, into Cheddar.
Because another event was taking place there, Cheddar gorge was closed to motor traffic, which was an absolute joy. I decided to do the whole climb on the wrong side of the road, just because I could. Something for the grandchildren, oh yes.
The 100km riders peeled off at the top of the gorge, before we headed down the hill towards Rodney Stoke. Not, I'm glad to say, the gliding club hill, the other one. Steep and straight enough to deteriorate my brake blocks significantly, although they stopped me short of the A371, the sunday-driver's paradise. Now down onto the levels again, and the second brief opportunity to get a group going. This time, three of us did all the work in a loop back to Wells, getting up to 20mph at times.
It was then that the ride got seriously tough. Old Bristol Road. Never climbed it before, been down it a fair few times, and with over 50 miles in the legs, it proved testing as i ground up in the bottom gear. Over the top again and another steep descent down to West Harptree, before a left turn through Compton Bishop, Ubley and Blagdon. Another up, past Chew Valley HQ, to top of Burrinton Coombe, and down to the second feedstop. At "Bad Ass Bikes". It's for Mountain bikers, bless them (I used to be one so I can take the mick).
From there it was across to Wrington, up and over it's eponymous hill, across the plain to Kingston Seymour, Clevedon (up inevitably past the golf club there), up (inevitably) past Skip's Dad's house near Portishead, before the last big push up to Failand. The hill in lanes I'd not been on before, just seemed endless and by now I was fair exhausted.
All that was left was for my final sprint (or what passed for one after 100 miles) back though Wraxhall and Nailsea to the school and I was done. I'm still waiting for my official time, I think it was around 7 hours 20, with my computer recording 7.07 of moving time for the 103 miles, and the officials saying about 6500 of climbing. Charlie played up again, but I think my time was pretty good really given the terrain, conditions etc. The official standards for gold (5 hrs 20) and silver (6 hrs 20) are about the same as for the White Horse challenge, 13 miles shorter and about 3000 feet less climbing. How did they get that then?
I am sure there are tougher sportives, more climbing, longer mileage, bleaker terrain and all that. The difference with this one was the frequency of the hills. I was chatting with someone from work who also took part (just the 100km though) and he concurred. They seemed to take the route to every hill they could find in order to find another hill. So I never got into a good rhythm.
Some of the hills very steep ones, albeit short and sharp. So this meant that with the exception of two very small stretches, no groups were forming at all, so no drafting, no coasting and no recovery. So like Zsa Zsa, I did this one all alone, and factor in a fair breeze (as ever for cyclists it was always a headwind), plenty of rain, coldish temperatures (especially up at the altitude on Mendip)it made for a pleasantly hard and challenging day.
All that was actually pretty fine and dandy. However, and it is a very big however, what is inexcusable, heinous, generally egregious organisation and utterly, utterly wrong is this. THE ROUTE CROSSED OVER ITSELF!!!!!!!!!
I often see it said by cyclists that the idea of a local sportive is one that doesn't appeal. Their idea being that why should they pay money to cycle their own roads. I can see the point, but for me, this sportive was one of the best because it MADE me do all these hills and that route in one go. For starters I did actually find some new roads where I had never been before.
But there is more than that. Because I'd entered, paid my money and plodded round, I felt honour-bound to complete. If it had been a training ride I would have bailed at around mile 70, or worse, looked at the rain first thing and put it off for another time. Not only would I have missed the camaraderie from riding with 600 strangers (less the 5 from work who entered) but also I would never have tested myself.
The main thing was I enjoyed it, even more so now I have had a loaf of bread and six packets of pasta. Roll on the Tour of Wessex. I'm still recruiting domestiques if you fancy doing just one day. No? Oh well, me and Bunny will just have to share the work then.
Here's Charlie:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/33487902
Saturday 8 May 2010
Brownie Points
Today was supposed to be a longish ride to prepare for next Sunday's "Black Rat Challenge", but circumstances put paid to it as we shall see. The other order of the day was for hills. I got those in OK, although would have liked to do a few more.
I started out by cycling in to Winscombe and out along the Sandford Road. From there I could turn up the long road that crosses the A38 en route to Shipham. I think it's about the longest continuous uphill ride you can do around here, with the exception of a couple of downhill stretches. Up through Shipham, and then up towards Tynings Farm, up the short pitch of 16% hill, then gradually up and along towards Charterhouse.
It was at this point that I found myself in the road section of an endurance Mountain Bike race. One of them even had the temerity to overtake me, big bloke he was, looking like one of Bristol's finest. So I drafted him for a bit, then attacked on the short rise into Charterhouse itself. That'll learn him.
The race seemed to start in a field by the AONB Mendip centre, and our paths continued conjoined as I was going to the highest point I could get to on skinny tyres, by the two telephone masts. By now there was a whole throng of them, and for all their big gears they couldn't keep up with me on my superlight frame. Actually, they'd probably been at it for 24 hours or something insane, so were doing really well to still be awake, never mind riding a bike.
As I headed back down the hill, they crossed into the other world of cycling, mud, rocks, off-road stuff. I used to cycle there myself when I was a baggy-trousered cyclist, but seeing them today made me realise how it's Lycra for me now. Mountain biking is fun, but nothing beats the thrill of zipping down Burrington Coombe at 35 mph.
Why do we cycle? For fitness? Yes. To get from A to B? For sure. To be social and meet people? Of course. I don't know about anyone else, but for me cycling has become an expression of pure joy, even going up the hills. All this talk of suffering is nonsense. For starters lycra, particularly black lycra, can make most of us 40 somethings pretend just for a moment, that we are winning a mountain stage, or a sprint on the Champs Elysee, and I love it.
From there it was on to Butcombe and up towards Winford and Dundry Hill, that was the plan. Except a puncture, or more accurately a dodgy valve on the tyre, intervened, and I discovered two things. First, my Conti tyres are not so easy to get back on the wheel, and second, my wife is lovely. I struggled for close on an hour to get the darn thing back on, but I just couldn't get that last bit of tyre over the rim. I'd love to hear from anyone with a similar problem otherwise it's new tyres time.
Eventually I called the support crew, who wonderfully brought me a spare wheel. Just in time, because now winter is here again I was starting to get distinctly chilly in the north-east breeze with matching drizzle. So spare wheel on, I cut the ride short and headed back via Wrington a, Langford and a quick diversion up through Rowberrow. RPM saw me and claimed I was speeding through the village, but I was not intending to, just trying to get home before the rain. Which I didn't. Charlie has the route, which for all it's brevity was nearly 30 miles with a fair bit of climbing:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/32599089
I started out by cycling in to Winscombe and out along the Sandford Road. From there I could turn up the long road that crosses the A38 en route to Shipham. I think it's about the longest continuous uphill ride you can do around here, with the exception of a couple of downhill stretches. Up through Shipham, and then up towards Tynings Farm, up the short pitch of 16% hill, then gradually up and along towards Charterhouse.
It was at this point that I found myself in the road section of an endurance Mountain Bike race. One of them even had the temerity to overtake me, big bloke he was, looking like one of Bristol's finest. So I drafted him for a bit, then attacked on the short rise into Charterhouse itself. That'll learn him.
The race seemed to start in a field by the AONB Mendip centre, and our paths continued conjoined as I was going to the highest point I could get to on skinny tyres, by the two telephone masts. By now there was a whole throng of them, and for all their big gears they couldn't keep up with me on my superlight frame. Actually, they'd probably been at it for 24 hours or something insane, so were doing really well to still be awake, never mind riding a bike.
As I headed back down the hill, they crossed into the other world of cycling, mud, rocks, off-road stuff. I used to cycle there myself when I was a baggy-trousered cyclist, but seeing them today made me realise how it's Lycra for me now. Mountain biking is fun, but nothing beats the thrill of zipping down Burrington Coombe at 35 mph.
Why do we cycle? For fitness? Yes. To get from A to B? For sure. To be social and meet people? Of course. I don't know about anyone else, but for me cycling has become an expression of pure joy, even going up the hills. All this talk of suffering is nonsense. For starters lycra, particularly black lycra, can make most of us 40 somethings pretend just for a moment, that we are winning a mountain stage, or a sprint on the Champs Elysee, and I love it.
From there it was on to Butcombe and up towards Winford and Dundry Hill, that was the plan. Except a puncture, or more accurately a dodgy valve on the tyre, intervened, and I discovered two things. First, my Conti tyres are not so easy to get back on the wheel, and second, my wife is lovely. I struggled for close on an hour to get the darn thing back on, but I just couldn't get that last bit of tyre over the rim. I'd love to hear from anyone with a similar problem otherwise it's new tyres time.
Eventually I called the support crew, who wonderfully brought me a spare wheel. Just in time, because now winter is here again I was starting to get distinctly chilly in the north-east breeze with matching drizzle. So spare wheel on, I cut the ride short and headed back via Wrington a, Langford and a quick diversion up through Rowberrow. RPM saw me and claimed I was speeding through the village, but I was not intending to, just trying to get home before the rain. Which I didn't. Charlie has the route, which for all it's brevity was nearly 30 miles with a fair bit of climbing:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/32599089
Sunday 2 May 2010
Bank Holiday weather strikes again
Last night I must have gone to sleep and woken up eight month's later. In February. Or at least you'd have thought it was with the cold wind, intermittent squawly showers and all round gloom. But no, this was the archetypal English Bank Holiday weekend in all its glory. The day I had arranged to meet Skip at 8.30AM in Axbridge for a ride.
I made some plans the night before, but the weather, my fatigue, her dislike of hills, put the kybosh under all of them. We did a circuit of Weston, and I offer this apology to Skip, who did most, no, all of the hard work. That was when she wasn't leaving me for dust. Except it was too wet for dust. Of course, as I type this, the sun is coming out, the ground is drying up, and it's turning into Spring again. Maybe.
Not a particularly eventful ride, but the company, when I could keep up with her, was pretty good. Because of the early start, there was no coffee stop (all still closed) and I guess I may have pushed myself a bit yesterday. Interestingly my average speeds from the two days cycling were about the same. Yesterday I felt like a jet-propelled Mark Cavendish, and today I felt like I was crawling though treacle.
C'est la vie, voila Charlie:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/31930696
I made some plans the night before, but the weather, my fatigue, her dislike of hills, put the kybosh under all of them. We did a circuit of Weston, and I offer this apology to Skip, who did most, no, all of the hard work. That was when she wasn't leaving me for dust. Except it was too wet for dust. Of course, as I type this, the sun is coming out, the ground is drying up, and it's turning into Spring again. Maybe.
Not a particularly eventful ride, but the company, when I could keep up with her, was pretty good. Because of the early start, there was no coffee stop (all still closed) and I guess I may have pushed myself a bit yesterday. Interestingly my average speeds from the two days cycling were about the same. Yesterday I felt like a jet-propelled Mark Cavendish, and today I felt like I was crawling though treacle.
C'est la vie, voila Charlie:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/31930696
Saturday 1 May 2010
Lord of the Flies
All cyclists are interested in the weather. This interest ranges from mild to obsessive depending not just on the individual, but also on the proximity of the next ride. Of course, because a Bank Holiday weekend was approaching this inevitably meant poor weather forecasts. For reasons that are fairly Byzantine, involving family arrangements, lawn mowers and the need to drop a car in at the Toyota garage, it was difficult to integrate the optimum weather forecast with a ride this weekend.
Tomorrow, Skip's hectic life had allowed a cycling window which I wanted to join her in jumping through, so if I was to fit in two rides, today had to be the day. So the Eagle-eyed amongst the three readers of this blog will notice that today's ride started in Weston, at Howard's Toyota to be precise. I did toy with starting Charlie off at home and making it look like the first 8 miles of the journey were done at speed, but that would be cheating.
After just 2 minutes I was stopped by a man on a bike with panniers, going the other way, asking for directions in a Geordie accent. "I'm trying to get to the bridge over Chepstow, canny lad". OK, he didn't say "canny lad" but the rest is true. I just love this, if Bunny is reading, he will know what I mean. From April until August I get asked this sort of thing all the time, because it is LEJOG season. It gives me the opportunity to give advice on routes, swap stories and wish people well on their journey to the bleak place at the tip of Scotland. Best thing today was, this chap was heading for Hereford, which is where we stayed on the first Saturday too, so it gave me a warm nostalgic glow.
Today was a chance to do a few hills-Bleadon (twice), Brent Knoll, Mudgley via Dagg's Lane and finally up to Priddy from Wookey Hole via Ebbor gorge. Dagg's Lane is closed to traffic as the bridge at the base is unsafe, and for now it's still accessible by bike. Judging by the rate at which the tarmac is cracking up and being invaded by moss and other foliage, it won't be rideable soon. So if you want to tick that one off your list (and at 22% it's a feather in any one's cap), I'd do it soon if I were you.
Whilst I'm in the warning business, the road around Blakeway (Kid Gate Drove to be precise) is littered with broken glass. Luckily I got a warning from a walker, but there are a couple of patches where shards extend all over the road, so I had to stop and carry the bike for about 20 yards.
It was odd how Brent Knoll seemed awash with "Vote Conservative" posters, whereas a few miles further on in the villages around Wedmore and Wookey, it was all "Vote Liberal". I don't think there can be anything tribal about it, but it was very marked how the posters seem to take over a village and not allow the other hue in.
It is now fly season. Despite the falling temperature, it was still warm and humid enough for them to be out, with large swarms in the countryside. I collected quite a lot by virtue of the suncream which I sport between April and September, and quite a few took a fancy to my legs too. I think I'll have to wear a buff or get one of those helmets with a mesh. My wife teases me about my largish front teeth, but they came in handy today as a wasp bounced off them before he could get down my throat.
In between the hills I made pretty good time, but that hill out of Wookey is a toughie. It peaks at about 20%, but averages around 12-15% and just seems to go on and on. I felt OK though and was able to get home via Cheddar gorge pretty quickly. The Bank holiday had brought the grockles out, usually without their brains, but I was restrained and patient. I did overtake one car, the driver of which was looking anywhere but the road ahead, and going at the speed of a wheelbarrow laden with cabbage.
Best of all, the rain held off till after I got home, and although the forecast is shocking for tomorrow, at least one of this weekend's rides was dry. That is a meteorological result!
Here's Charlie's route:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/31820859
Tomorrow, Skip's hectic life had allowed a cycling window which I wanted to join her in jumping through, so if I was to fit in two rides, today had to be the day. So the Eagle-eyed amongst the three readers of this blog will notice that today's ride started in Weston, at Howard's Toyota to be precise. I did toy with starting Charlie off at home and making it look like the first 8 miles of the journey were done at speed, but that would be cheating.
After just 2 minutes I was stopped by a man on a bike with panniers, going the other way, asking for directions in a Geordie accent. "I'm trying to get to the bridge over Chepstow, canny lad". OK, he didn't say "canny lad" but the rest is true. I just love this, if Bunny is reading, he will know what I mean. From April until August I get asked this sort of thing all the time, because it is LEJOG season. It gives me the opportunity to give advice on routes, swap stories and wish people well on their journey to the bleak place at the tip of Scotland. Best thing today was, this chap was heading for Hereford, which is where we stayed on the first Saturday too, so it gave me a warm nostalgic glow.
Today was a chance to do a few hills-Bleadon (twice), Brent Knoll, Mudgley via Dagg's Lane and finally up to Priddy from Wookey Hole via Ebbor gorge. Dagg's Lane is closed to traffic as the bridge at the base is unsafe, and for now it's still accessible by bike. Judging by the rate at which the tarmac is cracking up and being invaded by moss and other foliage, it won't be rideable soon. So if you want to tick that one off your list (and at 22% it's a feather in any one's cap), I'd do it soon if I were you.
Whilst I'm in the warning business, the road around Blakeway (Kid Gate Drove to be precise) is littered with broken glass. Luckily I got a warning from a walker, but there are a couple of patches where shards extend all over the road, so I had to stop and carry the bike for about 20 yards.
It was odd how Brent Knoll seemed awash with "Vote Conservative" posters, whereas a few miles further on in the villages around Wedmore and Wookey, it was all "Vote Liberal". I don't think there can be anything tribal about it, but it was very marked how the posters seem to take over a village and not allow the other hue in.
It is now fly season. Despite the falling temperature, it was still warm and humid enough for them to be out, with large swarms in the countryside. I collected quite a lot by virtue of the suncream which I sport between April and September, and quite a few took a fancy to my legs too. I think I'll have to wear a buff or get one of those helmets with a mesh. My wife teases me about my largish front teeth, but they came in handy today as a wasp bounced off them before he could get down my throat.
In between the hills I made pretty good time, but that hill out of Wookey is a toughie. It peaks at about 20%, but averages around 12-15% and just seems to go on and on. I felt OK though and was able to get home via Cheddar gorge pretty quickly. The Bank holiday had brought the grockles out, usually without their brains, but I was restrained and patient. I did overtake one car, the driver of which was looking anywhere but the road ahead, and going at the speed of a wheelbarrow laden with cabbage.
Best of all, the rain held off till after I got home, and although the forecast is shocking for tomorrow, at least one of this weekend's rides was dry. That is a meteorological result!
Here's Charlie's route:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/31820859
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