Improvisation

It was cold again today. What a ludicrous way to open a post, of course it was cold, we are in the middle of the coldest prolonged spell since records began, or some likely statistic like that. It was more remarkable that it was warm yesterday, over 9 degrees C in London and probably close to that here.

9AM this morning, it was near freezing according to my HTC phone, and there was ice on my car. But the sun was shining, and there was no fog. Time to hook up with the ACG for an official ride which I was route-planning for. (Please excuse the poor grammar in that last sentence, I'm rushing and multi-tasking at the moment, so it'll have to do.) But the road looked reasonanly safe, which I took as a good sign, given it gets no sun between 1st December and 31st January.

Down in the Square there were six of us (Me, Skip, Knight, Doc, Boots and Shipham MTB), and we were meeting Wonder Boy from last week at a cafe the other side of Bridgwatwer. My initial plan was scuppered by the information that part of the route had half a ton of hedge clippings all over it. So we headed out past the Webbington Hotel and across towards Brent Knoll.

Shipham MTB was going for it, but he wasn't moving that fast when his bike suddenly slid from under him on a corner and down he went. It was now apparent that there was ice everywhere there was shade, except on main roads. He seemed OK but quickly discovered his bike wasn't. His gear shifter was kyboshed so all he had was top gear. He headed for home.

So we adapted the plan and decided Brent Knoll was not a good idea, and headed over to Mark on a south-facing road. To Rich's Cider cafe for a nice chat and bacon sandwich, by which time Knight had peeled off to go and sell stuff to Christmas shoppers in the gorge in his sparkly new shop. Actually I don't know if it is sparkly but I'd hope so, it is Christmas after all.

After putting the student fees issue to rights, we headed out on a loop through Bason Bridge and Burtle, via Westhay and Blackford to Cocklake and the sprinting road. It had been a delightful ride, lots of chatting with Wonder Boy sprinting off on a long leash, and having to wait for the codgers to catch him at junctions.

As we bombed into Clewer Wonder Boy was off. Skip told me to chase him, and in my head I knew it was pointless, but eventually I had to try didn't I? Doc had fallen out of the back by now, but Boots sat on my wheel as we tried vainly to chase WB down. Like I said, pointless. WB went off to plough up and down the gorge, whilst the rest of us headed for the sofa. Skip is doing a sportive with him in April, I think her best bet is not to let him eat anything before or during the the ride. That way, as there is not an ounce of fat on him, he might blow up after 40-50 miles, leaving Skip to sail on by and bring him in on HER wheel. Maybe not.

I looped around Winscombe on the way home, coming up the hill the hard way, to keep the legs in. It's been a good week, just over 80 miles all told, and that magic countdown now standing at 53.28 miles to go. No problem.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/59482853