Today I awoke sore and tired, and of course having lost an hour into the ether of British Summer Time. Straight away the Rouleur household was into panic mode as we had all agreed on a morning trip to watch Rango at a cinema on the outskirts of Bristol. And it is a great film, slightly surreal for a children's movie, but it does have Jonny Depp, Ray Winstone and Harry Dean Stanton amongst the cast. If you like your entertainment Zen, you should go.
I saw almost all of it, I think I missed only a couple of minutes while I was dozing. But that probably added to the whole experience in any case. By the time we were travelling home it had turned into a really nice, sunny Spring day. And the roads were full of cyclists. I should be resting, but I don't get an opportunity to ride in daylight during the coming week, and it might be raining next weekend. I just couldn't make up my mind when we got home with the TV and sofa looking very inviting too, should I stay or should I go?
Well, what would you do?
So now I am even sorer and tireder, but it was a really great ride, and despite doing the Gorge, the HNP on Mendip, Long Lane (easy Wrington Hill) and then a few lumps and bumps on the way back, I was OK.
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/75378835
I thought a lot about the census while I was riding, I am confronted by this monstrous intrusion of questions as i type this, and I have to fill it in today apparently. Not sure if they would know if I filled it in tomorrow, but as you know "Conformity" is my middle name.
Don't get me wrong, I love questions, I make my living through asking them, encouraging others to ask them, and know when and when not to ask the right one. I just wish they could have asked a few interesting ones instead of all the drivel about numbers, ages, occupations, blah, blah, blah. So here, just for fun, are the ten random questions that occurred to me this afternoon:
1. Why do black clothes make you look slimmer than you really are, and white ones make you look fatter?
2. How important is size?
3. Did Lance Armstrong take performance enhancing drugs that contravened the rules?
4. Was there really no room at the inn, or was that dramatic licence?
5. What persuaded Anekin Skywalker to cross to the dark side?
6. Who decides when the clocks go forward and back?
7. How many Kings of England were actually called George?
8. When do children start tidying their rooms without being asked?
9. How many cyclists were out today in North Somerset, and who was that large group near Churchill school?
10. What is the Church of England for?
Feel free to add a comment and ask you own question, in fact I'll give a virtual prize for the best one, right where is that form?
Sunday, 27 March 2011
Saturday, 26 March 2011
She's a rebel, she's a saint, she's the salt of the earth and she's dangerous
But I call her Skip. Happy Birthday, and like all good long distance communications, I'm sorry that I can't be there tonight, but after today, I can barely walk, never mind drink. Is that plausible enough now?
Today was an Axbridge Cycling Group Birthday ride celebration and (for me at least) recovery ride after doing a few hills yesterday. Official Mendip rouleur complaint: I ordered flat! Quite a group assembled in the Square this morning. I'd got up a bit early to warm up and test my stamina by cycling down into Winscombe then up to Shipham before delivering Skip's present so she, or I, didn't have to carry it round with us.
I didn't have a problem buying it, not what I would have chosen for myself of course, but then presents are for the receiver. I did toy with buying some cycling kit, and went to elaborate lengths to try and pretend I was buying stuff for my Mum to make sure it was the right size. But, and it's a big but. Buying clothes for women is fraught with hidden, no very visible dangers. For one thing, Skip, well she's a rebel, and most cycling clothes for the ladies are pink or mauve and very twee. Or any that aren't are unavailable, and people at work told me not to risk buying a blokes pair of bib shorts.
The size thing is a minefield. What is a size 12 exactly? Apparently if you buy size 12 and it's too small, that's no good, but if you go for 14 that could be insulting. And, while no-one cares about how they look on a bike as much as me, I really didn't want to get it wrong. She does colour co-ordinate her nail varnish after all.
So I went for a set of DVDs about he who must not be named in case the over-litigious Texan actually reads my blog. Which I doubt, but I read he gets e-mail alerts every time his name is mentioned on the web. A bit like googling yourself for the paranoid.
So the ride, well we went round the levels, up to Catcott and Shapwick, down to Sweets and then up a new hill on the way back from Panborough. Back past the windmill and down Notting Hill. Boots was route plotter and manged to find some roads that would put Paris-Roubaix to shame, as well as a nasty climb which had hitherto been hidden.
I'd like to think I did my stints on the front, because for some reason we were on it today, the reason being we were either trying to keep up with, or impress Superman and Superwoman (see entry on 13 June 2010). They don't come out with us much and when they do we always seem to be busting ourselves to pretend we are really good cyclists, just in case they never come back. I think.
I did spend a lot of time looking at the back of my fellow cyclists today. Take Skip for example,
http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201103
A very clean rear, of her bike, gleaming derailleur, and smaller profile than last year. (Actually I have no idea if that's true, I always look at her knees and brakes, as i am a gentleman, but Bunny says so, and he's married, aren't you Bunny?).
The Knight of the Realm, who joined us for ten miles before peeling off to his shop. Absolutely filthy. Haven't you got a sponge? Muc-off? Get the cub scouts round, no wonder your gears keep seizing.
Boots is slowly metamorphosing into a modern cyclist. New bike, made, I think, of carbon(?), he now hows an Endura top and today I noticed a matching water bottle. One day the saddle bag will be gone and he will sport a sleek helmet and lycra shorts. Mark my words.
Superman and Superwoman have their national flag proudly etched onto their top tube. But was that a stars and stripes I spotted down near the bottom bracket?
The Shipham MTB, who is not even from Shipham, so after his performance today is now officially King of the Hill, today he committed a heinous crime allowing his yellow shell jacket, poking out of a rear pocket, flapping in the breeze, like a 1920s dancer.
And me? Well I was the worst offender today and none of you even noticed. Or at least you didn't comment. Or perhaps you couldn't care less, but I feel furtive, like a thief who has got away with it but still feels guilty. For this morning on entering the shed, I found the K-1's front tyre completely flat. Time was a factor, so I made a decision. Quicker than you could say, "where's the team car" I put one of the original wheels on. With deep section aero rims. Another brand for heaven's sake!!!
I'm sorry, I've let you down, I've let the Symmetrical and Matching Standards Board down, but most of all, I've let the tyre down............sorry.
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/75186118
Today was an Axbridge Cycling Group Birthday ride celebration and (for me at least) recovery ride after doing a few hills yesterday. Official Mendip rouleur complaint: I ordered flat! Quite a group assembled in the Square this morning. I'd got up a bit early to warm up and test my stamina by cycling down into Winscombe then up to Shipham before delivering Skip's present so she, or I, didn't have to carry it round with us.
I didn't have a problem buying it, not what I would have chosen for myself of course, but then presents are for the receiver. I did toy with buying some cycling kit, and went to elaborate lengths to try and pretend I was buying stuff for my Mum to make sure it was the right size. But, and it's a big but. Buying clothes for women is fraught with hidden, no very visible dangers. For one thing, Skip, well she's a rebel, and most cycling clothes for the ladies are pink or mauve and very twee. Or any that aren't are unavailable, and people at work told me not to risk buying a blokes pair of bib shorts.
The size thing is a minefield. What is a size 12 exactly? Apparently if you buy size 12 and it's too small, that's no good, but if you go for 14 that could be insulting. And, while no-one cares about how they look on a bike as much as me, I really didn't want to get it wrong. She does colour co-ordinate her nail varnish after all.
So I went for a set of DVDs about he who must not be named in case the over-litigious Texan actually reads my blog. Which I doubt, but I read he gets e-mail alerts every time his name is mentioned on the web. A bit like googling yourself for the paranoid.
So the ride, well we went round the levels, up to Catcott and Shapwick, down to Sweets and then up a new hill on the way back from Panborough. Back past the windmill and down Notting Hill. Boots was route plotter and manged to find some roads that would put Paris-Roubaix to shame, as well as a nasty climb which had hitherto been hidden.
I'd like to think I did my stints on the front, because for some reason we were on it today, the reason being we were either trying to keep up with, or impress Superman and Superwoman (see entry on 13 June 2010). They don't come out with us much and when they do we always seem to be busting ourselves to pretend we are really good cyclists, just in case they never come back. I think.
I did spend a lot of time looking at the back of my fellow cyclists today. Take Skip for example,
http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201103
A very clean rear, of her bike, gleaming derailleur, and smaller profile than last year. (Actually I have no idea if that's true, I always look at her knees and brakes, as i am a gentleman, but Bunny says so, and he's married, aren't you Bunny?).
The Knight of the Realm, who joined us for ten miles before peeling off to his shop. Absolutely filthy. Haven't you got a sponge? Muc-off? Get the cub scouts round, no wonder your gears keep seizing.
Boots is slowly metamorphosing into a modern cyclist. New bike, made, I think, of carbon(?), he now hows an Endura top and today I noticed a matching water bottle. One day the saddle bag will be gone and he will sport a sleek helmet and lycra shorts. Mark my words.
Superman and Superwoman have their national flag proudly etched onto their top tube. But was that a stars and stripes I spotted down near the bottom bracket?
The Shipham MTB, who is not even from Shipham, so after his performance today is now officially King of the Hill, today he committed a heinous crime allowing his yellow shell jacket, poking out of a rear pocket, flapping in the breeze, like a 1920s dancer.
And me? Well I was the worst offender today and none of you even noticed. Or at least you didn't comment. Or perhaps you couldn't care less, but I feel furtive, like a thief who has got away with it but still feels guilty. For this morning on entering the shed, I found the K-1's front tyre completely flat. Time was a factor, so I made a decision. Quicker than you could say, "where's the team car" I put one of the original wheels on. With deep section aero rims. Another brand for heaven's sake!!!
I'm sorry, I've let you down, I've let the Symmetrical and Matching Standards Board down, but most of all, I've let the tyre down............sorry.
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/75186118
Friday, 25 March 2011
Seven o'clock in the morning and I've been riding the overnight train
Commuter run. That time of year when it's very cold, misty and silent in the morning, and very warm, sunny and noisy as anything in the evening.
What to wear? Do I need to tell you? I made sure I had detachable arms, detachable legs, hats, anything that you can detach quite frankly. Clothes not anatomy. It is most definitely spring though, and it was delightful to be riding in weather that is other than cold, ice, wet, fog, grime, you get the message.
On the relatively flat way in, I crossed over a bridge near Flax Bourton just as a beautifully sleek high-speed train was going underneath. I thought about waving to the window as it went, but chose not to. Somebody might wave back.
Then it was up Belmont Hill, with the mist down below, and the rising sun just starting to burn it off, it was really enjoyable. Over the suspension bridge and into Clifton, I was meeting the Princess for her inaugural commute into work. She has a (imagine lip curl) mountain bike, with (grimace) panniers. Actually I hope she never gets a road bike, she's a natural. Imagine Contador without the clenbuterol and with the build of a woman. And English, long blond hair, OK nothing like Contador, but potential to kick my butt.
On the way home I decided to do Dundry Hill in the daylight for a change, and although I had to put my clear shades on towards the end, and I had to slow down going down Long Lane because a bus was blocking my way (it's my hill don't you know) it was a great ride home. Best of all the overall route has a delightful frying pan shape. And that has to be good news.
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/75029677
What to wear? Do I need to tell you? I made sure I had detachable arms, detachable legs, hats, anything that you can detach quite frankly. Clothes not anatomy. It is most definitely spring though, and it was delightful to be riding in weather that is other than cold, ice, wet, fog, grime, you get the message.
On the relatively flat way in, I crossed over a bridge near Flax Bourton just as a beautifully sleek high-speed train was going underneath. I thought about waving to the window as it went, but chose not to. Somebody might wave back.
Then it was up Belmont Hill, with the mist down below, and the rising sun just starting to burn it off, it was really enjoyable. Over the suspension bridge and into Clifton, I was meeting the Princess for her inaugural commute into work. She has a (imagine lip curl) mountain bike, with (grimace) panniers. Actually I hope she never gets a road bike, she's a natural. Imagine Contador without the clenbuterol and with the build of a woman. And English, long blond hair, OK nothing like Contador, but potential to kick my butt.
On the way home I decided to do Dundry Hill in the daylight for a change, and although I had to put my clear shades on towards the end, and I had to slow down going down Long Lane because a bus was blocking my way (it's my hill don't you know) it was a great ride home. Best of all the overall route has a delightful frying pan shape. And that has to be good news.
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/75029677
Monday, 21 March 2011
Never stopped me dreaming
Well she didn't let me down, 96.82 miles of the Endura Lionheart sportive, based at Longleat. Unlike Charlie, who duly loaded up with the official route, cut out on one occasion and missed three miles of recording.
But that was about the only thing that went wrong with the day. It was almost an impromptu ACG ride, although the Liberator disappeared quite early up the first hill, to be seen later at the finish. Skip and I rode most of the route together, although I struck out on my own occasionally, and it was on my own, there were no groups today.
The main route into the Longleat estate was also the route out for the sportive, meaning we had to get up at stupid o'clock again, and in the gloom of the early start, there was faffing to be done about clothing. Hindsight proved me right almost immediately, as the steep starter climb warmed me up nicely, meaning the ditched warm layer was not missed. We all got off to a good start anyway and I may have caught a glimpse of three lions as I did my early morning lap of the Longleat estate.
And the weather got better, and better, and sunnier and sunnier. I even had a great number, clickety click. The countryside was fantastic too. Somehow, in our congested part of the country, the organisers had managed to find a pretty deserted patch. Apart from nice quiet roads (barring a short stretch of the A303) that is, with great surfaces for the most part.
There are many things that make our country great. Marmite. The Radio times. Early closing days. Stiff upper lips and mustn't grumble (I know, I know, this is aspirational). But I have discovered a constant in my life that I thought had left. Where would this country be without the humble village hall? Harvest festivals, cub scouts, parish councils, youth clubs, teenage parties, cricket teas, and now, sportive feed stops.
It gets better. The Women's Institute supplied us with cakes, in particular the chocolate and banana version. All the cakes had their creator's name by the side, and it is with regret that I can't remember who did my sponge of choice.
To be fair, by the time of the last of the three, yes three stops, I was on water and jelly babies, but I got up King Alfred's Tower without stopping and the last draggy climb called Gare hill.(as in long rather than a male hill dressed as a woman). There is significance in the name though, it was almost certainly the site of a meeting place in Anglo Saxon times, where the local freemen would vote on important decisions, proto-democracy before the Norman Yoke.
Skip has done a great blog on the ride here:
http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201103
Today I was ravenously hungry and my backside feels like it's been dancing with a cheese grater, oh happy days! It is amazing that despite having done lots of sportives in the past two years it takes a bit of re-acclimatisation to get back into the swing of things. I'm sure I'll be fine by the weekend.
My official time was 7 hours 10 minutes but my cycling time (according to my ever-reliable cateye) was 6 hours 26, reflecting how much time I spent enjoying the landscapes, particularly Fovant Down, sight of the regimental chalk badges, and a traction engine rally in Wilton. There were some fantastic bridges too, I do love a bridge, a lot of today's were those little stone ones over shallow water courses. Very common at the base of chalk escarpments.
So lots to see and do, besides riding my bike. Come to Wiltshire for the day and see history, beauty and listen to the wind, the larks, and not much else.
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/74152946
But that was about the only thing that went wrong with the day. It was almost an impromptu ACG ride, although the Liberator disappeared quite early up the first hill, to be seen later at the finish. Skip and I rode most of the route together, although I struck out on my own occasionally, and it was on my own, there were no groups today.
The main route into the Longleat estate was also the route out for the sportive, meaning we had to get up at stupid o'clock again, and in the gloom of the early start, there was faffing to be done about clothing. Hindsight proved me right almost immediately, as the steep starter climb warmed me up nicely, meaning the ditched warm layer was not missed. We all got off to a good start anyway and I may have caught a glimpse of three lions as I did my early morning lap of the Longleat estate.
And the weather got better, and better, and sunnier and sunnier. I even had a great number, clickety click. The countryside was fantastic too. Somehow, in our congested part of the country, the organisers had managed to find a pretty deserted patch. Apart from nice quiet roads (barring a short stretch of the A303) that is, with great surfaces for the most part.
There are many things that make our country great. Marmite. The Radio times. Early closing days. Stiff upper lips and mustn't grumble (I know, I know, this is aspirational). But I have discovered a constant in my life that I thought had left. Where would this country be without the humble village hall? Harvest festivals, cub scouts, parish councils, youth clubs, teenage parties, cricket teas, and now, sportive feed stops.
It gets better. The Women's Institute supplied us with cakes, in particular the chocolate and banana version. All the cakes had their creator's name by the side, and it is with regret that I can't remember who did my sponge of choice.
To be fair, by the time of the last of the three, yes three stops, I was on water and jelly babies, but I got up King Alfred's Tower without stopping and the last draggy climb called Gare hill.(as in long rather than a male hill dressed as a woman). There is significance in the name though, it was almost certainly the site of a meeting place in Anglo Saxon times, where the local freemen would vote on important decisions, proto-democracy before the Norman Yoke.
Skip has done a great blog on the ride here:
http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201103
Today I was ravenously hungry and my backside feels like it's been dancing with a cheese grater, oh happy days! It is amazing that despite having done lots of sportives in the past two years it takes a bit of re-acclimatisation to get back into the swing of things. I'm sure I'll be fine by the weekend.
My official time was 7 hours 10 minutes but my cycling time (according to my ever-reliable cateye) was 6 hours 26, reflecting how much time I spent enjoying the landscapes, particularly Fovant Down, sight of the regimental chalk badges, and a traction engine rally in Wilton. There were some fantastic bridges too, I do love a bridge, a lot of today's were those little stone ones over shallow water courses. Very common at the base of chalk escarpments.
So lots to see and do, besides riding my bike. Come to Wiltshire for the day and see history, beauty and listen to the wind, the larks, and not much else.
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/74152946
Friday, 18 March 2011
I'm all out of faith, this is how I feel
On Sunday I have to make a decision between two beautiful choices. I love both of them dearly, but as will all difficult choices, I have to do some nailing of colours to masts, and pick one.
I am conflicted for they both offer different things. They are both stunningly gorgeous, sexy, and slim. Bot can do things to me that I dream of for days afterwards, the touch of their skin under my hands has me swooning.
One is flighty, twitchy, skittish and plays a bit fast and loose. The other more comfortable but still quick, more upright, less noisy, but, and here's the rub, a bit less dependable than previously.
So despite all this beauty it is the reliability that makes the choice. And I'm not as torn as i thought. At least the recent reliability anyway. The Red Madone it is then for the first proper sportive of the season, the Endura Lionheart at Longleat House, just shy of 100 miles, that's the plan. Loads of people from work are doing it too, well at least three anyway. Along with Skip, and the Liberator. So it should be a good day, particularly if i can get on the Liberator's wheel for the day.
Today I took it easy in terms of route into and back from work, going via Congresbury and Long Ashton. It was pretty damp and dismal on the way in, but lovely on the way back, and amazingly I managed an average far in excess of anything else i have done this year. Worryingly everything seemed to flow very nicely, which, in my superstitious manner, means I'll have a stinker on Sunday. Oh well, it's not a race is it?
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/73692804
I am conflicted for they both offer different things. They are both stunningly gorgeous, sexy, and slim. Bot can do things to me that I dream of for days afterwards, the touch of their skin under my hands has me swooning.
One is flighty, twitchy, skittish and plays a bit fast and loose. The other more comfortable but still quick, more upright, less noisy, but, and here's the rub, a bit less dependable than previously.
So despite all this beauty it is the reliability that makes the choice. And I'm not as torn as i thought. At least the recent reliability anyway. The Red Madone it is then for the first proper sportive of the season, the Endura Lionheart at Longleat House, just shy of 100 miles, that's the plan. Loads of people from work are doing it too, well at least three anyway. Along with Skip, and the Liberator. So it should be a good day, particularly if i can get on the Liberator's wheel for the day.
Today I took it easy in terms of route into and back from work, going via Congresbury and Long Ashton. It was pretty damp and dismal on the way in, but lovely on the way back, and amazingly I managed an average far in excess of anything else i have done this year. Worryingly everything seemed to flow very nicely, which, in my superstitious manner, means I'll have a stinker on Sunday. Oh well, it's not a race is it?
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/73692804
Sunday, 13 March 2011
The best you can do is to fake it
ACG time again today and my first ride since going back to work, and since the Mad March Hare last Sunday. I'd joked about being a coiled spring, but in reality I felt more like a coiled slug. After a heavy lunch, no, after lots of heavy lunches. Because, dear readers I am carrying a bit too much extra baggage after the winter. Bunny was kind enough to imply some of it may be muscle, and that is true, as my waist is about the same size, but this year I have lacked a bit of discipline to avoid the metaphorical sausages.
It was also the first outing of the year for the Red Madone (OK, I give in, my inner pedant has won over my desire to be idiosyncratic), given the front mechanical mess that is Kinetic 1 at the moment. I'd dropped the latter off for a full Spring service at Leadman's LBS yesterday, so out came the Trek today. Bit of getting used to, especially the saddle, but a pretty good alternative I'd say.
We made quite a peloton (I have totally capitulated here) today, seven of us in total. Doc, on his first outing for a while, Skip, Boots, Shipham MTBman, and his two MTB mates, Figgy (because despite his diminutive and almost Moss-like frame, [less attractive, considerably less attractive, but equally skeletal] he never stopped eating, in particular a packet of fig rolls flapping out of his back pocket) and Broadway Danny Rose. (You'll work it out). The official start of Spring is not until 21st March, but today's weather was decidedly Spring-like.
I had suggested some hills, so it was up the gorge, with Figgy disappearing into the distance, and I found it harder than usual. We re-formed and bombed across the top, through Priddy and then down the Old Bristol Road into Wells. From there we went up through the Horringtons, which was as painful as it sounds for me, with Figgy disappearing into the distance. You can see the pattern can't you?
Once on the top again, it was a short hop to another new cafe, Hartley's cafe bistro (according to itself) on the B3135 between the A37 and A39. We briefly debated the five criteria for my cafe of the year competition, and yes, I do intend to seek feedback from others. It's a nice place, bit of a lack of cake, but reasonably-priced bacon sandwiches more than made up for it. It also has a farm shop, with some interesting cider, but no way it could fit into my jersey pocket.
Anyway, my criteria are:
1. Value for money (not the cheapest, but the best value)
2. Cleanliness (includes toilets)
3. Friendliness and service, and how cycle-friendly they are
4. Quality of food and drink, and range and particularly how good is the cake?
5. General ambiance and quirkiness, eco-friendly, landscape views, ethics etc.
If you don't like it, start your own contest!
Once out of the cafe, despite the sunshine, I was a bit cold, perhaps because we started with the descent of the fabulously-named Binegar Bottom. Down through Chewton Mendip, then Litton and East Harptree, we then hit that particular hill, and it was here I felt I was going backwards. Figgy disappeared into the distance, then Boots disappeared into the distance, and my legs felt like they were made of lead.
This got worse and worse as we formed a group across the Mendips, and then down from Tynings Farm to descend Shipham gorge. The stats are quite good given all the climbing, but I feel shattered, which is amazing given I haven't ridden for a week. But, and it was a big but, the "G" stands for Group, and sometimes you can't make it on your own, and I must say I really enjoyed being out with the Group today, a really friendly bunch, and a jolly good ride.
As predicted West Ham have just been knocked out of the FA Cup, so I can now go and slump on the sofa for a couple of hours. Bring on the Lions......
http://connect.garmin.com/player/72799601
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/72799601
PS There must be a better way to post these links, if anyone knows, can they let me know please....:-)
It was also the first outing of the year for the Red Madone (OK, I give in, my inner pedant has won over my desire to be idiosyncratic), given the front mechanical mess that is Kinetic 1 at the moment. I'd dropped the latter off for a full Spring service at Leadman's LBS yesterday, so out came the Trek today. Bit of getting used to, especially the saddle, but a pretty good alternative I'd say.
We made quite a peloton (I have totally capitulated here) today, seven of us in total. Doc, on his first outing for a while, Skip, Boots, Shipham MTBman, and his two MTB mates, Figgy (because despite his diminutive and almost Moss-like frame, [less attractive, considerably less attractive, but equally skeletal] he never stopped eating, in particular a packet of fig rolls flapping out of his back pocket) and Broadway Danny Rose. (You'll work it out). The official start of Spring is not until 21st March, but today's weather was decidedly Spring-like.
I had suggested some hills, so it was up the gorge, with Figgy disappearing into the distance, and I found it harder than usual. We re-formed and bombed across the top, through Priddy and then down the Old Bristol Road into Wells. From there we went up through the Horringtons, which was as painful as it sounds for me, with Figgy disappearing into the distance. You can see the pattern can't you?
Once on the top again, it was a short hop to another new cafe, Hartley's cafe bistro (according to itself) on the B3135 between the A37 and A39. We briefly debated the five criteria for my cafe of the year competition, and yes, I do intend to seek feedback from others. It's a nice place, bit of a lack of cake, but reasonably-priced bacon sandwiches more than made up for it. It also has a farm shop, with some interesting cider, but no way it could fit into my jersey pocket.
Anyway, my criteria are:
1. Value for money (not the cheapest, but the best value)
2. Cleanliness (includes toilets)
3. Friendliness and service, and how cycle-friendly they are
4. Quality of food and drink, and range and particularly how good is the cake?
5. General ambiance and quirkiness, eco-friendly, landscape views, ethics etc.
If you don't like it, start your own contest!
Once out of the cafe, despite the sunshine, I was a bit cold, perhaps because we started with the descent of the fabulously-named Binegar Bottom. Down through Chewton Mendip, then Litton and East Harptree, we then hit that particular hill, and it was here I felt I was going backwards. Figgy disappeared into the distance, then Boots disappeared into the distance, and my legs felt like they were made of lead.
This got worse and worse as we formed a group across the Mendips, and then down from Tynings Farm to descend Shipham gorge. The stats are quite good given all the climbing, but I feel shattered, which is amazing given I haven't ridden for a week. But, and it was a big but, the "G" stands for Group, and sometimes you can't make it on your own, and I must say I really enjoyed being out with the Group today, a really friendly bunch, and a jolly good ride.
As predicted West Ham have just been knocked out of the FA Cup, so I can now go and slump on the sofa for a couple of hours. Bring on the Lions......
http://connect.garmin.com/player/72799601
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/72799601
PS There must be a better way to post these links, if anyone knows, can they let me know please....:-)
Monday, 7 March 2011
Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise
Yesterday I went to do the Mad March Hare sportive in the middling counties of Warwickshire and Worcestershire.
Marvellously I did it with Skip and Bunny, all of us riding pretty much together the whole time. Nothing beats cycling with your mates, chuntering away about this, that and the truly pointless. Yesterday I didn't convince them at all that fox hunting and opera are tools of oppression of the elite to keep the masses in their place. But who cares? I enjoyed myself.
And we are all blogging, cut and paste the links down at the bottom. It was also a very early start, and five hours sleep the night before, for long, tedious reasons, and a leaving do the night before that are not ideal preparation. But it was OK, and I didn't need to do anything but give Skip a good listening to for a couple of hours on the motorway, which made it a lot easier for me. I also realised a stop in the M42 services is better than a portaloo for those essential regular preparations, but if you look at this picture of me at the top of the hill-climb, you'd have thought I hadn't bothered:
http://sportivephoto.thirdlight.com/viewpicture.tlx?albumid=295851&pictureid=14600787
Notice that I am numberless, mainly because I couldn't find the energy, will or patience to tie fiddly numbers in the early morning cold, and you can't get your number out of a jersey pocket when cycling up a 15% hill. Unlike the downhill, which seemed to be a bit novel. Skip enjoyed it anyway, but then she had matching nail polish. Matching to her jacket that is.
http://sportivephoto.thirdlight.com/viewpicture.tlx?gsearchid=1299535602&pictureid=14600994
The ride was beautiful. Take churches. Straight pointed spires, a lightning rod to heaven, on the top of idyllic crests, with streams in the valley below. Spring flowers, clustered on lawns in the churchyard, bursting though the drab winter coldness as if to poke the devil's weather and say, "greyness will not defeat us, we are yellow and we will proclaim the spring".
Or bridges, no other nation on earth does bridges like us, just ask Isambard. We must have crossed the Avon (of the Stratford upon variety) a few times, and one bridge with its passing places for carts, its arches, its stonework, what more could you want? Do you know Avon means river? I love that. Saxon to Celt: "what's that called?" Answer: "Avon", Saxon names it the River River.
So there I was about 69 miles in and I got a taste of what it must be like to be Andy Schleck. My chain came off, for about the fifth time that day. Except this time one of the links was half-sheared and the rest was jammed in the front mech. A bike without a fully functioning drivetrain is like, well, it's like, a bridge without a river, or a church without a spire, they just don't work.
Except Andy Schleck has someone on hand to hand him a bike, he doesn't have to take it to his LBS on Saturday morning, or walk the last 3 miles to the HQ. But then he doesn't have mates like Skip and Bunny who will rescue him so he doesn't have to either. I had to walk about 3 miles before Bunny came and got me, but if it is to happen at least do it when friends are there. Thanks guys.
Still a good ride, and a DNF is a DNF, no matter what gloss my friends or the official timekeepers put on it (5 hours dead in the latter case, which is close to Bunny's 4-50 and Skip's 4-57). I don't care though, not now. I will look back on the day with a huge fondness, for riding together is as good as it has got for me. My time is respectable, given the preparations and early-season, but yes The chain was broken, but some other links have been forged a bit stronger I think.
Charlie and blogs below:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/71678941
http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201103
http://monmarduman.blogspot.com/
Marvellously I did it with Skip and Bunny, all of us riding pretty much together the whole time. Nothing beats cycling with your mates, chuntering away about this, that and the truly pointless. Yesterday I didn't convince them at all that fox hunting and opera are tools of oppression of the elite to keep the masses in their place. But who cares? I enjoyed myself.
And we are all blogging, cut and paste the links down at the bottom. It was also a very early start, and five hours sleep the night before, for long, tedious reasons, and a leaving do the night before that are not ideal preparation. But it was OK, and I didn't need to do anything but give Skip a good listening to for a couple of hours on the motorway, which made it a lot easier for me. I also realised a stop in the M42 services is better than a portaloo for those essential regular preparations, but if you look at this picture of me at the top of the hill-climb, you'd have thought I hadn't bothered:
http://sportivephoto.thirdlight.com/viewpicture.tlx?albumid=295851&pictureid=14600787
Notice that I am numberless, mainly because I couldn't find the energy, will or patience to tie fiddly numbers in the early morning cold, and you can't get your number out of a jersey pocket when cycling up a 15% hill. Unlike the downhill, which seemed to be a bit novel. Skip enjoyed it anyway, but then she had matching nail polish. Matching to her jacket that is.
http://sportivephoto.thirdlight.com/viewpicture.tlx?gsearchid=1299535602&pictureid=14600994
The ride was beautiful. Take churches. Straight pointed spires, a lightning rod to heaven, on the top of idyllic crests, with streams in the valley below. Spring flowers, clustered on lawns in the churchyard, bursting though the drab winter coldness as if to poke the devil's weather and say, "greyness will not defeat us, we are yellow and we will proclaim the spring".
Or bridges, no other nation on earth does bridges like us, just ask Isambard. We must have crossed the Avon (of the Stratford upon variety) a few times, and one bridge with its passing places for carts, its arches, its stonework, what more could you want? Do you know Avon means river? I love that. Saxon to Celt: "what's that called?" Answer: "Avon", Saxon names it the River River.
So there I was about 69 miles in and I got a taste of what it must be like to be Andy Schleck. My chain came off, for about the fifth time that day. Except this time one of the links was half-sheared and the rest was jammed in the front mech. A bike without a fully functioning drivetrain is like, well, it's like, a bridge without a river, or a church without a spire, they just don't work.
Except Andy Schleck has someone on hand to hand him a bike, he doesn't have to take it to his LBS on Saturday morning, or walk the last 3 miles to the HQ. But then he doesn't have mates like Skip and Bunny who will rescue him so he doesn't have to either. I had to walk about 3 miles before Bunny came and got me, but if it is to happen at least do it when friends are there. Thanks guys.
Still a good ride, and a DNF is a DNF, no matter what gloss my friends or the official timekeepers put on it (5 hours dead in the latter case, which is close to Bunny's 4-50 and Skip's 4-57). I don't care though, not now. I will look back on the day with a huge fondness, for riding together is as good as it has got for me. My time is respectable, given the preparations and early-season, but yes The chain was broken, but some other links have been forged a bit stronger I think.
Charlie and blogs below:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/71678941
http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201103
http://monmarduman.blogspot.com/
Saturday, 5 March 2011
Put on the bright suit Billy, head for the right side of town
While I have your attention I'd just like to mention the Black Rat Challenge in Bristol on 22nd May. Last year I entered this sportive (see my entry 16 May last year) and despite the damp weather I had a great time. The route has been improved for this year so give it a go. I have a conflict of interest, it's West Ham's last game of the season, unless they get to the Cup Final (and by raising the possibility I now know it won't happen), and if it's make or break time I may have to go, we'll see.
I think it is a great test to ride all your ,local hills in one go, we wouldn't normally do that, and by entering to force yourself to conquer them i think. Besides there's the camaraderie of strangers....and the honour of the ACG!
But Jeremy, the organiser of the Black Rat, did something amazingly kind today and replaced the glass tankard I got as a souvenir from last year. My son drinks out of it, although he's not onto the cider just yet. Given the family history it's only a matter of time, but the original tankard got smashed, and Jeremy gave me, in fact made a journey to give me, two replacements. Well, with kindness like that I think I'll have to enter his sportive now.
Speaking of rats I was in a bit of rat trap myself last night if the rumours about the establishment I was in are true. I'm now over this morning's hangover, and it has a vague connection to cycling in that I rode into Bristol last night, and home this morning, for my boss's leaving do. It was a very surreal occasion I can tell you (the do not the ride), but I'm not sure it's the idea carbo-loading for tomorrow's Mad March Hare. We'll see.
It's been great to be on holiday and ride during the week, in daylight, even if it has been a bit chilly. So yesterday afternoon as the last hurrah of that before I go back to work next week. The season starts now....
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/71323196
I think it is a great test to ride all your ,local hills in one go, we wouldn't normally do that, and by entering to force yourself to conquer them i think. Besides there's the camaraderie of strangers....and the honour of the ACG!
But Jeremy, the organiser of the Black Rat, did something amazingly kind today and replaced the glass tankard I got as a souvenir from last year. My son drinks out of it, although he's not onto the cider just yet. Given the family history it's only a matter of time, but the original tankard got smashed, and Jeremy gave me, in fact made a journey to give me, two replacements. Well, with kindness like that I think I'll have to enter his sportive now.
Speaking of rats I was in a bit of rat trap myself last night if the rumours about the establishment I was in are true. I'm now over this morning's hangover, and it has a vague connection to cycling in that I rode into Bristol last night, and home this morning, for my boss's leaving do. It was a very surreal occasion I can tell you (the do not the ride), but I'm not sure it's the idea carbo-loading for tomorrow's Mad March Hare. We'll see.
It's been great to be on holiday and ride during the week, in daylight, even if it has been a bit chilly. So yesterday afternoon as the last hurrah of that before I go back to work next week. The season starts now....
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/71323196
Wednesday, 2 March 2011
What I resist, persists, and speaks louder than I know
Do you know what my problem is? No I don't either, but if you find out, let me know.
It was one of those "best laid plans" type of days again. Meet Skip in the Square, same time as Monday, and cycle the same route as Monday, but in reverse. I made a strategic decision to put new tyres on K-1, as well as new brake blocks, in advance of the first sportive next Sunday. Moral of this particular story, don't start fiddly, annoying jobs at 10 o'clock at night when you are already tired.
Everything that could go wrong seemed to, I won't bore you with the details, for they seem trivial in the cold light of day, but at the time they all collectively drove me nuts. Being the obsessive type, I had to finish, and get the bike in a halfway decent state to ride this morning. I'd promised to meet Skip see....
But caffeine is a wonderful thing. Despite three hours sleep, a bitter north-east wind and distinct lack of sunshine, off we went up Shipham gorge, and across the top, down Burrington, Walled Garden cafe, Wrington, Ghostly Hill, Sandford and Winscombe.
I like the Walled Garden. I know it's expensive as cafes go, but as my Dad says, there are no pockets in shrouds. It has the best view of any cafe in North Somerset, and great armchairs. And it's on one of my favourite hills, and the scone I had today was superb. Chacun a son gout I guess.
http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201103
I'd just made the turn towards Barton when I noticed that our convivial chatter had stopped, and Skip was, well, not there. I waited a few minutes, and then turned back, to find her half a mile back fixing a puncture. Both her tubes, (missus) were also holier than thou, so I gave her one of mine. This didn't quite take as long as my fettling last night, but it had eaten into our limited time, and Skip's patience, and with one tube left between the two of us, we made a tactical decision to head for home by the quickest route. Which was up Winscombe Hill to my house in my case, and down the other side for her.
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/70890975
My problem? Sometime I don't know when to give up, and sometimes I give up too easily. But how do I know when I've got it right? That is my problem.
It was one of those "best laid plans" type of days again. Meet Skip in the Square, same time as Monday, and cycle the same route as Monday, but in reverse. I made a strategic decision to put new tyres on K-1, as well as new brake blocks, in advance of the first sportive next Sunday. Moral of this particular story, don't start fiddly, annoying jobs at 10 o'clock at night when you are already tired.
Everything that could go wrong seemed to, I won't bore you with the details, for they seem trivial in the cold light of day, but at the time they all collectively drove me nuts. Being the obsessive type, I had to finish, and get the bike in a halfway decent state to ride this morning. I'd promised to meet Skip see....
But caffeine is a wonderful thing. Despite three hours sleep, a bitter north-east wind and distinct lack of sunshine, off we went up Shipham gorge, and across the top, down Burrington, Walled Garden cafe, Wrington, Ghostly Hill, Sandford and Winscombe.
I like the Walled Garden. I know it's expensive as cafes go, but as my Dad says, there are no pockets in shrouds. It has the best view of any cafe in North Somerset, and great armchairs. And it's on one of my favourite hills, and the scone I had today was superb. Chacun a son gout I guess.
http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201103
I'd just made the turn towards Barton when I noticed that our convivial chatter had stopped, and Skip was, well, not there. I waited a few minutes, and then turned back, to find her half a mile back fixing a puncture. Both her tubes, (missus) were also holier than thou, so I gave her one of mine. This didn't quite take as long as my fettling last night, but it had eaten into our limited time, and Skip's patience, and with one tube left between the two of us, we made a tactical decision to head for home by the quickest route. Which was up Winscombe Hill to my house in my case, and down the other side for her.
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/70890975
My problem? Sometime I don't know when to give up, and sometimes I give up too easily. But how do I know when I've got it right? That is my problem.
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