I don’t want to tempt fate, but the sun is shining (although there’s a bitterly cold wind blowing) and everything outside is starting to look suspiciously green and verdant. Is this going to be the start of Spring or are we going to be back to the endless rain again next week?
Let's hope not, because I’ve really had enough of the wet, and I really need the allotment to start drying out so I can get some digging done. While I’m talking about digging, and the allotment, I managed to get up to the plot for a couple of hours on Sunday morning, and have finally managed to get the main season potatoes in the ground. Tradition states that you plant potatoes at Easter, but as Easter moves around, that seems like a bit of a stupid idea, and even more so when you consider that statistically it’s more likely to snow at Easter than Christmas. (I assume it stems from the fact that people had a day off at Easter which gave them time to do it). Either way, the ground was far too wet at Easter to even consider digging, although I did get some early spuds into big pots, and as a bit of an experiment buried some more in last year's compost pile to see what happens. But getting anything into the ground has had to wait until this weekend (which some years would have been Easter anyway. See I told you it’s a silly tradition). I note that the potatoes in the compost heap have already broken the surface, so we will see in a couple of months if they're any good, although I suspect not as I’m guessing that the slugs will get most of them. A few years ago I planted Pumpkins into the compost pile in a similar experiment and they did really well, so I think it’s worth a try and there’s nothing to lose except a couple of seed potatoes. The seeds in the greenhouse are all doing ok too. It’s surprising how much warmer it is in the greenhouse, sheltered from the wind and with all the glass radiating the sun's warmth. The summer bedding flowers that I pricked out into individual modules last weekend are starting to get established in their new homes and I’ve had to move the Sweet peas and most of the Cabbages, which are going great guns, into the cold frame to make space for other stuff. I’ve also sown French and Runner beans this week, which are now in the cold frame waiting for the sun to do its magic, and I think that that’s most of the early seeds sown for now. There’s still plenty of stuff to get sown directly into the soil once it warms up a bit, but for now, I think it’s time to get on with some digging, ready to start planting stuff out in the coming weeks.
Strangely, it’s been a quiet weekend on the running and cycling front too. Looking through all the events in the local area, there was nothing on either front for this weekend. I guess that the London Marathon is the focus of everyone's attention on the running front, but I don’t know why there’s no bicycling fun going on.
The fact that there’s no organised fun to get involved with doesn’t normally stop me though and this weekend has been no different. Last weekend I pushed my cycling commute home on Friday afternoon out to 60 miles, just to get a few more miles in, which worked quite well, so this weekend, with nothing else to do, I've taken that idea one step further and pushed it out to 170 miles (180 if you add in the ride in to work on Friday morning) with a night out in the hammock on Friday night to make it a bit more of an adventure. I sorted out what looked like a reasonable route one evening in the week, The plan being to head out straight from work on Friday afternoon. Before heading up to the edge of the Cotswolds, and then looping back to end up back at home on Saturday afternoon. So, to that end, I dug the camping gear back out from the loft where it’s been languishing, feeling lonely, since my little adventure at Easter and as soon as I could escape from work I was away. Friday afternoon, had a viscous, cold, wind, blowing that made for some really hard miles. With the predominant wind direction being South-Easterly, I thought that I’d get away with it, but for the first time in forever, the wind on Friday was somehow coming from the North-West, also known as straight in my face all afternoon! Not an ideal situation, but all character building stuff. Although if I’m honest, I think that my character has had enough building for the time being, and it would be nice if the wind and rain would take a break and the sun would just come out for a bit.
An afternoon of fighting to make progress against the wind saw me in Witney for tea time, where I treated myself to one of Lidl’s finest donuts as a reward for my efforts and spent a few minutes huddled out of the wind, trying to stay warm enough to enjoy it.
With a planned 170 miles for the two days I ideally needed 85 on the Friday to even the mileage out, and looking at the map as I munched on my doughnut, it seemed that 85 miles would see me somewhere between Burford and Northleach, which seemed achievable. As is often the case, as the afternoon turned towards evening the wind died away, and whilst the climbs between Witney and Burford were somewhat testing on tired legs, there was plenty to keep my mind occupied and distract me from the task in hand, as I passed through pretty little Cotswold villages with expansive views across the rolling countryside from the hill tops. By 19:00 I’d reached Burford and took the opportunity to pick up some water ready for the night and for my breakfast in the morning, as well as the obligatory bedtime cookie. (There’s no point in putting in all that effort if you can’t treat yourself once in a while is there?)
Pushing on from Burford with one eye open for potential overnight Bivvy spots I had a few really pleasant miles in the evening sun following the River Windrush as it made its way from its source to link up with the Thames at some point downstream.
Having discounted a couple of possible overnight spots, I finally found somewhere suitable to hang my hammock just as darkness was descending, and called it a day, with 87 miles on the clock (98 if you include the 11 in to work in the morning). Setting up for the night the skies were clear and the full moon provided plenty of light to see by. In fact it was such a beautiful evening that there didn’t seem to be much point in putting the Tarp up, and I settled into bed with a beautiful view of the night sky silhouetting the naked trees above with the stars shining through. Beautiful!
Less than an hour after settling down for the night I was rudely awakened by spots of rain falling onto my head and the wind whistling through the trees. The moon which had been so bright less than an hour ago was long gone, and I was getting wet!
Struggling back out of my warm sleeping bag I had a mad rush around in the dark to try and get the tarp set up before everything got soaked. Whilst the still strengthening wind tried its best to hamper proceedings by pulling things in every direction I didn’t want them to go in, and generally making a nuisance of itself. Finally back in bed again, I lay for a while listening to the wind in the trees and some Deer off in the distance calling to each other, before drifting back off to sleep. Now, I’m pretty sure that I didn’t dream it, but around midnight I awoke to the sound of footsteps on the road which was a few meters away. Between my arrival just after 20:00 and midnight there hadn't been a single vehicle passing down the road, but footsteps, that was strange. And not just any footsteps either, but the rhythmic footfall of a runner. Laying still, the footsteps grew louder, before passing along the road a matter of feet away from my little hideaway and progressing steadily up the hill. I’d say how strange, and I’m pretty sure that I didn’t dream it. But a runner, in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night, really? If it wasn’t for the fact that I’ve been that runner, progressing steadily through the darkness on more than a few occasions, I’d say that I was definitely dreaming. But in actual fact, I probably wasn’t, and it probably was someone else out on their own adventure through the night. Either way, dream or reality, good luck fellow adventurer, I hope your night time exploits were rewarding and enjoyable, and thanks for not disturbing my slumbers!
By the time the dawn chorus alerted me to the start of another day, the overnight wind and rain had moved on, and the day dawned, cold and clear, with the hints of a light frost glinting from the roadside verges.
Sitting in my hammock with a hot brew warming my fingers and watching the sun slowly rise through the trees is always a magical moment, and Saturday morning was no different. I couldn’t spend all morning swaying gently in the morning sun though, as there was still the small matter of another 85 miles to cover if I was going to get home today. So to that end I was packed up and on the road, with the cold, frosty, air nipping at my fingers by 06:30. With no sign of my night time companion I made steady progress along the quiet country roads as the inhabitants of the roadside houses slumbered on, blissfully unaware of my passing. Through Northleach, Cricklade and on to Royal Wootton Bassett where I stopped and joined the early morning shoppers to replenish my supplies and pick up a second breakfast.
From Royal Wootton Bassett it’s all familiar roads. Roads that I’ve ridden a hundred times before on days out and longer adventures. They're always different though and there’s always something to see that you've never noticed before.
That’s the beauty of travelling slowly, you’ve got the time to notice things that you’d never see in a car. They would either be gone in a flash or you’d be too busy looking at the road to even notice. Not by bike though. There’s time to look around, time to take in your surroundings and time to learn the lay of the land and how different places and roads interact with each other.
Lost in my daydreams, the miles ticked steadily along. Marlborough came and went, as did Hungerford. And before I knew it I was on the home straight. One more long drag of a climb, one more steep one, and then it’s all downhill from there.
There was time for one more brew stop first though. Another chance to sit in the sun whilst I waited for the kettle to boil and one more chance to sit with my back against a farm gate and watch the world go by for a few minutes. Before I knew it though it was all over. By mid afternoon I was back at home with another 85 miles in my legs, just as “The Emma” was getting up from her night shift. Plenty of time for a brew, sort my kit out and chill out for a couple of hours before tea time. And that, in my book, isn't a bad way to start the weekend. 170 miles, a night out in the Hammock, sunshine, moonlight nights, rain showers, stunning expansive views, the freedom of the road, strong winds and most importantly a few hours of freedom with nothing to worry about except turning the pedals and where to stop for a brew. That’ll do me, thank you very much!
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What are we going to talk about this week then blog followers? Well,I know for a fact that whatever I’m on about won’t be exciting as last week's adventures, but then every week can’t be spectacular can it, and to be honest, I think I actually got the best weather over the Easter weekend, because it certainly hasn’t got any better over the last week has it. As I mentioned at the end of last week's update, I was actually off work last week, and whilst I didn’t get up to anything special, I did manage to get a few odd jobs wrapped up and made some progress on both the allotment and the MX5 project. The MX5 stuff isn’t really worth mentioning and certainly isn’t worth any pictures, but I have spent more than a few hours over the last week on my back, scraping underseal and rust off the bottom of the car. Dirty, horrible work that will never be seen again once the rust has been repaired and it’s all been repainted and re-undersealed, but if it’s going to be saved, it's a necessity. In more interesting news, I’ve finally got round to replacing the fruit trellis on the allotment. This one's been on my to do list for a while, but I’ve been waiting on an opportunity to get the metal delivered when I was actually at home to take delivery. That opportunity appeared over the Easter break, so before I went on my adventure I ordered the stuff which arrived Wednesday night (typically having been in all day, I went for a shower at 18:30 and the delivery guy pitched up as soon as I got naked). Anyway, having used wooden posts for the trellis since I got the allotment, I’m now on at least the third set of posts, and some of these have rotten away already or are loose, so I’m giving up on the wooden post front and whilst metal posts are more expensive I’m hoping that they’re going to last far longer that the wooden ones do, and therefore over their life the costs will actually be better. Besides the metal ones look far better and are now at least 3ft in the ground so are solidly planted, something that you never seem to be able to achieve with the wooden ones. On other allotment news, the greenhouse is now in full Spring sowing mode and the benches are starting to fill up with seed trays. I’ve now got, Broad Beans, Sweetcorn, Spring and Winter Cabbage, Sprouts, Kale, Broccoli, Sweet Peas, Normal Peas, Summer and Winter Squash, Leeks, Spring Onions, Lettuce, Courgettes, Carrots, Beetroot, Parsnips and a selection of flower seeds in the greenhouse, with Tomatoes, Chilli’s, Cucumbers and Peppers all doing well on the window sill at home. All we need now is for it to stop raining for more than 2 seconds at a time to allow the ground to start drying out a bit and I’ll be able to get the Potatoes into the ground to join the Garlic and Onions, which have been braving the never ending rain out there all winter. I suppose we can’t have a blog update without some running or cycling fun though can we. So to that end, I’ve been running, and it wasn’t even my favorite sort of running. Sunday saw me lining up on the start line for the Southampton Marathon and if there’s such a thing as a good Marathon, then in my book, a road Marathon certainly isn’t it. That’s not to say that I wasn’t looking forward to this one. Just that 4 hours running round housing estates, industrial estates and other assorted city center infrastructure, doesn’t have quite the same appeal as 26 miles through glorious countryside, along muddy trails, out in the peace and tranquility of the countryside. Oh, and there’s always the little issue of 26 miles of running on tarmac being viciously hard on your knees and feet to contend with. Why do it then? Well to be honest, it was the only thing I could find to do on Sunday, to satisfy my need to punish my body on a weekly basis! I could have gone and run the Test Way Ultra, but I’d foolishly promised the day to visiting family months ago, so it was going to have to be either the Southampton Marathon on Sunday, or nothing for the weekend, and we can’t be having that can we. And besides, it’s good to do the odd road Marathon every now and again to remind me how much better trail running is! That said, and as I’ve already mentioned, I was actually looking forward to this. My late entry required an early start on Sunday morning as I had to get to Southampton to pick up my race number before the start. Expecting it to be busy I made sure I was there well before start time and had picked up my number and had plenty of time to get myself ready, wander around for a bit, and have a good warm up, before taking my slot on the start line ready for the off. If there’s one thing that I really hate about the bigger road races, it’s people's inability to start in the right group. Every big run always asks for a predicted start time when you enter, and then goes to a lot of trouble to try and sort out the start so you depart with runners that are capable of running at the pace required for your predicted finish time, which should lead to a smooth start and give everyone time to settle down, spread out and generally enjoy the first few miles. What actually happens, is the organisers go to all the trouble of trying to sort everyone out, but people are either incapable of being honest with their predicted time (I’m going to run sub 3 hours when my fastest ever time is 6 hours 30). Or just totally disregard their allocated start position in an effort to start at the front, despite the fact that your time goes on when you actually cross the line, and not when they say go, so it’s irrelevant where you actually start (you could be the last person over the line and still win, if you're the fastest runner). All of which means that instead of everyone getting smoothly away because you're all running at the same pace, there will be some idiot trying to do 6:45 pace in amongst those doing 3:45 which brings everyone to a halt while they try to get past and just leads to mayhem. Why do they do it? It happens at almost every big run, with Sunday being no different. As such instead of getting smoothly away when the man and the mayor with the big hat and loudspeaker said “Go” we spent the first couple of miles trying to get into a steady pace, whilst jostling around trying to get past those that are incapable of actually starting in the right place! While I’m having a rant the other big bug bears are the people that are incapable of running in a straight line (these will be the same ones that cant walk down the pavement in a straight line, and spend their time on the motorway endlessly going from 30 MPH to 90MPH and then braking before repeating the whole episode again). If they just ran in a straight line then everyone else wouldn’t have to keep swerving and slowing down / speeding up to get out of their way! And the idiots that think they need to stop in the middle of the road to get a selfie, or just as bad, swerve across everyone as you approach a drinks station, pick up a drink and then stop dead to take a sip from it (these will be the ones that stop dead in shop door ways, escalators and other inconvenient places or swerve across 7 lanes of traffic at the last second when they finally decide to pay enough attention to realise that they are about to miss their exit on the motorway too). Strangely, all of these phenomena appear to be specific to road running. It may just be that the average trail run has less participants, so it’s not so obvious, but knowing that you're going to spend half your run weaving around people, trying to avoid being tripped up, and generally having to try and pre-empt what those around you are going to do, tends to put me off road running (as if the boredom and smashing your knees isn’t enough). For me, it’s a bit like cycling in a group, it’s fine if everyone knows what they’re doing, but if not, it’s best avoided, or it’ll probably end in tears. That said, once everyone sorted themselves out and settled down, the first few miles, through a quiet Southampton, in the early morning spring sunshine was quite pleasant. What wasn’t quite so pleasant was when we turned into the wind, which was absolutely howling in off the sea. The crossing of the Itchen Bridge was particularly nasty, with the wind swirling around strongly enough to trip you up as it surged around your ankles, and the stretch along the promenade with what should have been views of the spring sunshine glinting off the Solent, was downright viscous, with the wind straight in your face, trying it’s best to push us back the way we had come. I settled into a fairly comfortable pace quite quickly though, falling in with the 1:45 half marathon pacers. A pace which whilst undoubtedly too fast for the full distance, felt fairly comfortable for the first half. Being a 2 lap run, it’s hard to know how you're doing in the big scheme of things. But, as the half way point approached and we peeled off for lap 2, it became clear that there weren't many runners doing the full race, as the majority went the other way! With the numbers considerably thinned down, and 1:45 on the clock for the first 13 miles, the second lap was going to be a case of trying to hold my pace for as long as possible, whilst trying to enjoy the endless city center roads for a second time. If anything the wind had picked up as we crossed the Itchen Bridge for the second time and battled our way around the promontory, a task made all the harder by having no one to hide behind and already having 16 odd miles in my legs. Having already been round once, I had a pretty good idea of what to expect on lap 2, including the long climb, at what would be mile 22 or 23, just when the mileage would be really starting to bite! Bite it did too. A long slog of a climb, which unsurprisingly hadn’t seemed quite so hard on the first lap! No pretty scenery to distract myself with. No distractions from the task in hand. Just an endless stretch of tarmac reaching ever upwards in front of me. Eventually though I reached the top of that endless slog, and turned onto the flatter terrain of the last few miles. Miles which ticked slowly down, until with 3:37 elapsed, the finish line hove into view. And I’m happy with that. I think that 3:37 is a fairly respectable time, and is actually slightly faster than I was expecting, having set off with the goal of 3:45 in mind. Maybe, I went out a little fast, and if I could have maintained the pace from the first half I’d have been closer to 3:30, but that was going to be a big ask.
Road running isn’t really my thing, so it’s hard to know how competitive you actually are until you put yourself against a measurable crowd. But I would say that considering the strong wind along the coastal section and the route. That 3:37 here compares favorably with my last road marathon, where I did a 3:34 at London in October 2022. So, I may be older, I’m certainly no wiser, but I don’t seem to have lost that much pace in the last 18 months either, despite having spent most of last year out injured, and I’m more than happy with 3:37. Maybe in another 2 years I’ll do another road Marathon and see how I’m getting on. But I’m certainly in no rush to repeat the experience. It’s much more fun off-road! I’ve just had a look at the spreadsheet, which I use to keep track of my running and cycling miles, and for Saturday 11th March 2023 it just says “The Dean 2023 – Brutal”. Which is an unusually short entry, but a fairly descriptive one in not too many words. That one word, tells me that it was a hard day out, probably with some inclement weather thrown in for good measure, and the word “Brutal” makes me wonder why I would ever think that putting myself through the same again would be a good idea? A question I asked myself on more than one occasion this Saturday! I’m sure that you can guess from that last paragraph, that Saturday was the 2024 edition of The Dean. A cheeky 300Km jaunt through some of the most picturesque scenery that southern England has to offer, and as we all know, picturesque normally means hilly! Starting from, and finishing at, an almost deserted car park on the outskirts of Oxford. It’s a long old loop (Just over 300Km to be precise, which is 195 miles for the imperial reader) taking in the Cotswolds, The Forest of Dean and the Severn Bridge, before heading back home via two white horses, Malmesbury, Marlborough and the luxurious Membury services on the M4, to end up back at that deserted car park. Even by Audax standards this is a “bare bones” event. There are no organised controls, no pampering, no rescue service and no one to hold your hand. It’s a cheery wave off from the start, and a stick your completed Brevet card in the box when you get back, type of event. Obviously in the 365 days between swearing that I’d never even think about taking on The Dean again, and entries opening for this year’s event, I’d completely forgotten that I was never putting myself through that again, and signed up. In fact, I was even looking forward to it! I did have a touch of second thoughts in the week. When looking at the weather forecast mid-week it looked remarkably similar to last year and the memories of being alternatively frozen, soaked, blown dry, soaked again, and almost frozen solid again, came flooding back. But, as the minus 6 bit seemed to be missing from this years forecast, I remembered that I was supposed to be a tough endurance athlete, (or something like that) and had better get on with it. Besides, if I pulled out due to the chance of a bit of inclement weather then A) It would obviously be the hottest, driest, nicest, March day ever, and B) What else was I going to do on Saturday (Don’t answer that, and yes I know that the grass needs cutting, the windows need cleaning, there’s an MX5 in bits in the garage, and it’s “The Emma’s” birthday tomorrow). Which is why I found myself dragging myself out of bed at 04:30 on Saturday morning, ready to be stood in a cold, damp car park, for an 06:00 start. Heading out of Oxford in the dawn light, with the birds singing, fellow cyclists all around, and the prospects of a good day in front of me, I wondered what all the fuss had been about last year. With the rolling countryside passing silently beneath my wheels, the breeze on my back, pretty Cotswold villages, their inhabitants still slumbering peacefully, to occupy my mind, and fresh legs, the early miles passed quickly and easily. The first control at Stow-on-the-Wold came and went without fanfare, and despite the long, dragging climbs through the Cotswolds towards Winchcombe slowing progress slightly, and necessitating a removal of layers, the flatter land towards Newent facilitated faster progress and I was at the second control at Newent before 10:30 with the first 100Km done. A quick sandwich stop at Newent and onwards, next stop Chepstow, but not before the small matter of the long, steep climbs up through The Forest of Dean. There’s no doubt about the fact that The Forest of Dean is a beautiful part of the country, with some stunning scenery, great places to visit and an all round mecca for anyone with a love of the outdoors. There is also no doubt about the fact that it’s bloody hilly. In fact, I don’t think that there is a single flat part in the entire area, and I’m pretty certain that it’s almost all uphill! Climb after leg sapping climb, lead up quiet county lanes, though heavily wooded hillsides. Birdsong and the sound of cascading water tried valiantly to drown out the panting as I pushed up another steep ascent. Lambs frolicked in roadside fields providing distraction as my heart tried to leap from my ribcage as the road continued steeply, endlessly, upwards. Eventually though, the scenery changed, and the view opened up to reveal the Seven estuary in all it’s majesty, the river, wide, dirty brown and fast flowing heading to same way as I was, towards the sea and the Severn Bridge. The descent into Chepstow was fast and over far too quickly, the climb back out the other side not so much, and the head wind, which was blowing strongly across the Severn Bridge was decidedly unwelcome, even more so as it was going to be my companion for the next 90 miles! Learning from last years mistakes, where I pushed on eagerly towards Malmesbury, and paid for it later. I took the opportunity to grab a burger from the Severn view services which are now eerily quiet since most of the traffic takes the newer bridge, and sat in the weak, early spring, sunshine, sheltered from the wind, enjoying a few minutes off the bike and watching the world go by. My memories from last year were of the leg between Chepstow and Marlborough being tough, and this year didn’t disappoint. Having turned into the wind at Chepstow, it looked like 90+ miles into a headwind was on the cards. Not the most attractive way to spend a Saturday afternoon, and it’s surprising how much harder pushing into the wind makes things. There’s not much you can do about it though, other than get your head down, try and distract your mind from the seemingly impossible task ahead, and get on with it. The miles came slowly through the afternoon. The traffic seemed heavier and less cooperative than in the morning, the hills, when they came, more uphill and harder, and the road surfaces worse. Tired legs played a part, the headwind wore me down, and as the time in the saddle grew longer so keeping the thoughts of stopping from my mind became harder. Eventually though Malmesbury arrived and with it the chance for a brief stop, and more importantly the chance discovery of Waitrose lemon and white chocolate hot cross buns. Man, if your ever in need of a treat, or a pick me up, these are the things to go for. Sweet, chocolatey, lemony, carb loaded goodness, oh yes! Pushing on, refreshed and revitalised (right), the wind was still a nuisance, and it’s a long uphill slog out of Malmesbury, but reinforced with hot cross bun goodness, my legs eventually dragged me to the top. There’s a couple of steep climbs between Malmesbury and Marlborough and I’m not going to pretend that I even considered expending the extra energy required to ride up them, instead opting for the opportunity to stretch tired leg and back muscles, by dismounting and pushing up. Sometimes that’s all that’s needed, a few minutes off the bike, a stretch of the leg muscles and a change of position and your good to go again, and that’s exactly what happened Saturday. By the time I got to Marlborough it was getting dark and I spent a few minutes sorting my life out, putting my head torch on, changing batteries and generally preparing for the dark. But, by the time I got going again a few minutes later, everything seemed better. The wind had died away with the arrival of the dark, those couple of minutes off the bike and the earlier walk up the steepest hills had worked wonders for my tired muscles, and the familiar road between Marlborough and the next planned stop at Membury seemed to help with a much needed injection of pace. The miles to Membury came easily. The road flowed beneath my wheels in the dark, the traffic had died away as everyone ran for home in case the bogey man got them in the dark, and the pool of light, which guided my way, held a comfort, restricting my vision to the meters in front, and focusing my attention to the road ahead. The tall mast with it’s evenly spaced red anti-collision marker lights, familiar from a thousand trips down the M4 to see “The Boy”, acted like a beacon from miles away, drawing me slowly closer to Membury, where the garage forecourt provided a proof of passage receipt, a bag of salty crisps and a few minutes of leg stretching, whilst the normal, car bound clientele, looked on at the strange cyclist magically transported into the midst of their world. Leaving Membury, there were just 30 short miles to go. The days back had been broken. The mornings climbs, and the afternoon headwinds, fast rescinding memories, as I pushed on towards Oxford and days end in the dark. A lack of concentration meant a missed turn in the dark, and an extra half mile added to the days total, before I realised that I was off track. A brief rain shower, reminded me how lucky we had been with the days weather, and the fast-flowing descent following the last of the days real climbs to bring us back over the Ridgeway and into Lambourn, left me with a glowing smile on my face, and the joy of feeling the wind in my hair, wind not caused this time by a headwind blowing in my face. As the clock swung though 22:30 and 16 hours and 30 minutes after setting off, I rolled back to a stop for the final time in the non-descript car park that I had left so many hours, and so many miles before. Tired, stiff, sore, but happy, with the relief and satisfaction, that, that, was the day done! And what a day it had been. I’m not afraid to admit, that this was another tough one. It would appear that my recollections from last year were spot on. It’s a long, hard, hilly day out. But with great effort comes great reward and sitting here a couple of days later I can only reflect on what a great day out it had been. I said to “The Emma” when I got home Sunday morning with stiff legs, aching muscles and a sore backside from my time in the saddle, that “I’m not doing that again, it’s brutal”. But, I said that last year too, and if I’m honest, they’re hollow words. Because sat here today typing this, I’m already thinking about next years “Dean”. Because, yes, it’s a tough day out, but it’s a brilliant ride through some lovely countryside, and at the end of the day, it’s never going to be as tough as it was in 2023 when it started at minus 6 and rained for most of the evening, and if I can survive that and come out the other side smiling, then I can survive anything! And anyway, what else would I be doing on a Saturday in early March? In other news, and you’ll no doubt be pleased to know that there isn’t much, I got some more seeds sown at the start of the week. So that’s 3 types of Tomatoes, 3 types of Chilli, normal Peppers, and a selection of flower seeds, all sat on the windowsills at home ready join the bits that I sowed in the greenhouse last weekend, once they’ve germinated, which moves us a bit further towards Spring in my eyes. I also note that the Pear tree in the front garden looks like it will have it’s first leaves in the very near future (which is about all that it ever has, as it’s never borne fruit) and the Apple, Plum and Cherry trees have some lovely looking buds on them too. That, and the fact that the hedgerows are just starting to turn green, the big willow tree that I pass on my run in to work is just coming into leaf, the farmers are busy preparing the soil ready for this year’s crops, and the little hedgerow birds all seem very busy, all continue to give me hope that the worst days of winter are almost behind us and things are soon going to start improving. And finally, I’ve never bothered to get a picture of this before, but it’s amazing how much bike chains stretch. Both of the chains in this picture start at the same point and are stretched out along the garden wall.
The one on the left has done a couple of thousand miles, whilst the one on the right is new. There’s probably a bit of life left in the worn one yet, but the last thing you want when your 100 miles from home is a chain failure, or for it to keep slipping out of gear, so it’s time for a new one!
It’s that time of year again, the evenings are starting to draw out, the weather has no idea what it’s doing (as if it ever does), and that means two things. Firstly, it’s time to start thinking about sowing the first seeds in the greenhouse, and secondly it must be time for the Steyning Stinger.
With the greenhouse clean, shiny, and looking better than it has done in many a year, I had a very pleasant couple of hours on the allotment Saturday morning sowing the first of 2024’s seeds. With the sun trying valiantly to break through the clouds, the birds singing from the hedgerow which borders my plot, and the Squirrels which inhabit the same hedge looking intently on, I dug the seed trays out of the shed and set too. 4 trays of Sweet Peas, a tray each of Spring cabbage, Sprouts, Broccoli, Kale and Winter cabbage, and two trays of Broad Beans. Followed closely by a packet of Leeks and a good sprinkling of Carrot seeds into an old recycling box, which will start off in the greenhouse and then get moved outside once the weather warms up a bit, got things off to a good start. I should probably have added the first of the Peas to that list too, but for some reason I omitted to pick them up with the other stuff and didn’t realise until I’d got to the plot and couldn’t be bothered to walk all the way back home again (which was extremely lazy of me), but there’s plenty of time yet and I’ll get a tray of Peas in when I go up next weekend instead. I really need to start thinking about sowing some flower seeds and the Chilli's and Peppers too, but they’ll have to live in the house for a month or so yet, which means I really need to wash some pot’s and trays before I can bring them home, and if there’s one thing I really hate (apart from painting) it’s washing seed trays, so that job can wait until next weekend too. The important thing is that were off to a start, and from here on in the growing season will pick up pace and my focus of attention will need to slowly move from hiding in the garage and workshop, to more allotment and garden related activities, and if I’m honest I really can’t wait. It’s been a long, damp, dreary winter, and finally seeing things starting to come to life, hearing the birds singing again in the mornings, leaving the house in the dawn light instead of the dark to cycle to work, and seeing the early spring bulbs bursting to life has been like a rejuvenating breath of fresh air in my life.
With the admin out of the way, I took the van down to Steyning on Saturday afternoon and took advantage of being that way by dropping in to see “Kathryn Stinks” and her tribe for tea, before settling in for the night, ready for an early start on Sunday morning.
I’ve run the Steyning Stinger marathon a few times before (2020, 2022, 2023) and if there’s a theme running through each run, it’s that it’s a hard, hilly route, with loads of ascent, and it’s normally muddy, slippery and wet underfoot. With the rain we’ve had in the past few weeks Sunday’s efforts looked like they were going to follow the same pattern, the only difference being that when I arrived at the start it wasn’t, raining, foggy, blowing a gale, but cold, crisp and still, with the promise of a glorious day to come. The Stinger’s unusual for an organised Marathon in that it has a rolling start, with the option to set off whenever your ready between 07:30 and 08:00, which to my mind makes for a relaxing start to the day. There’s no waiting around for the off, no jostling for position and no getting cold at the start, just turn up and go when you’re ready. Brilliant!
As expected, things were muddy from the off, but in the early morning sunshine, with a light frost glistening from the grass, conditions were pretty good considering the rain we’ve had over recent weeks.
The first few miles are fairly benign compared to what’s to come and provided the ideal opportunity to warm up stiff legs and settle into a steady pace, before the path goes steeply uphill for the first ascent onto the South Downs. The muddy, slippery path climbed steeply through the wooded hillside, hiding the view until sufficient height had been gained to reveal it in it’s true glory. Heart beating hard, lungs fit to burst, slip sliding through the mud, the trees came to an abrupt halt and the view opened up. Low laying mist littered the countryside, church steeples poking bravely through. Smoke rose lazily from chimneys far below as families went about their morning chores, and all was well in the world. I’ll take weeks of rain for the odd day like this. It might take some effort to run up the steep hillside, but it’s so worth it, and mid race or not, stopping for a few minutes to take it in in its full majesty was more than worth it.
I can’t spend all day taking in the view though, so reluctantly I pull myself away and continue onwards, slowly catching back up to, and gradually overtaking the runners who came past as I stood and stared. I can live with losing a few places and a bit of time though, there’s more to life than racing through it, and there’s no point in going to these places if I’m not going to take in the surroundings and make the most of the opportunities offered to me.
Another steep climb follows and then a flatter section and a long descent to reach the first checkpoint. On the flatter part I pick up another runner and we fall into conversation for a few minutes, discussing future plans, past adventures, and generally enjoying each other’s company to pass a few minutes as we progress steadily on.
I push straight on through the first checkpoint and loose my companion as I slog up the next long, steady, climb. He comes back past as I reach the top, and again stop for a few seconds to take in the view, and from there we spend the next few miles leap frogging each other, in a classic case of “The Tortoise and the Hare”. I’m slightly faster but quite happy to stop whenever an interesting sight catches my eye or a view requires my attention for a few seconds, whilst he pushes on, head down, pacing well, and then the cycle starts again as I once again tear myself away from whatever had my attention.
By the halfway mark the early morning frost had been burned off by the low laying sun, and despite steadily stripping off hats, gloves and layers, the day was warming up into a beautiful early spring day.
On the top of the downs, with the skylarks singing, the sheep grazing happily, and the sun beating down it’s hard to imagine that you’re only a mile or so from the traffic locked, congested, South coast. Look to your South from the hilltops and the entire stretch from Brighton to Worthing is one sprawling mass of housing and roadworks, wedged in between the South Downs and the Sea. Whilst a glance to the North is almost all open countryside until you reach the North Downs, some 30 miles to the North.
Contemplating peoples housing and living options, wasn’t getting the miles done, although it was certainly helping to pass the time. But as we drew closer to the urban sprawl and came into staggering distance from king car, so the paths became more churned up and muddy, where a thousand feet had turned the surface from hard packed soil to a slippery quagmire, reminding me again of our proximity to civilisation.
Mile after mile of slippery mud bought my average speed down, made my shoes heavy as it clung to the soles and sides, and tore at my calf’s as I plodded steadily on, slowly wearing away at my resolve and wearing at already tired muscles. The mud’s all part of the fun though, and somehow, it’s often easier to run on the slippery stuff, than it is to walk. An unfortunate slip on a particularly muddy section sent the person just in front sprawling, emerging seconds later from their unfortunate slip looking like the creature from the black lagoon, caked all down one side in wet mud. A quick check that they were OK and a double confirmatory “you sure”? Confirmed that no harm had been done, and once they were back on their feet we pushed on through the quagmire.
By the time the 22-mile mark had come and gone, the worst of the mud was behind me and all that remained was one more long hard slog to regain the high ground, followed by an easy couple of miles downhill back to the finish.
Twinges of cramp rippled through my calf’s as I slogged up that final ascent, paying testimony to the efforts of the day and possibly reflecting a lack of fluids over the previous miles, but as the slope slowly eased, I knew that the worst was over, and it was all downhill from here.
Plunging back down the slippery hillside through the trees, most of which have attained the size they have today in the past 35 years, having been flattened in the “Great Gale” in the late 1980’s, required some extra concentration to keep my footing on the slippery slope. One careless step now as I sped downhill could spell disaster and the phrase “more haste less speed” seemed apt.
Another mile across muddy fields and a final sprint to the finish and that was job done. 4:10 of muddy fun in the early spring sunshine, does it get any better than that? In this case, yes, because the real draw to the Steyning Stinger is that not only is it a brilliant route through glorious countryside with outstanding views around every corner, but you get a cooked breakfast at the end. And it really doesn’t get any better than that!
I’ve tried this year I really have, but I’m finally, and somewhat disappointingly, going to have to admit defeat. I’m not giving up and I’m going to keep chipping away at it, because at some point in the future I will get back on track. But for the time being, I’m going to have to surrender to the inevitable, and admit that I just can’t keep on top of the weekly blog updates at the minute.
There’s about 3 years’ worth of weekly waffle within these pages, and I’ve had a great time relating all my tales on a weekly basis, but for some reason, this year, I just can’t seem to keep on top of it. I think the main problem over the past few months has been work related. Being the idiot that I am, I can’t just sit back and do as little as possible, as many people seem quite content to do. If I see a problem, and I’ve got a solution, I feel compelled to try and sort it out, no matter how much extra work that creates for myself. That often comes back to bite me on the backside through, and recently I’ve bitten off a big old challenge at work, which has massively bitten me back. I’m winning now though, and starting to make a real difference, but over the last few months my work life has been one long fight to get things put in place to try and help the people that I’m supposed to be helping, whilst half of the people I have to deal with have tried to stop me, or make my task as difficult as possible, in order to make their own lives easier. Like everything in life, that has a knock-on effect, and I suppose the biggest knock on from that, is that having spent all day up to my neck in e mails and spreadsheets, the last thing I’ve really wanted to do is sit down in front of another keyboard and start tapping away at my bolg. Which is a massive shame, because, sitting here putting my thoughts into words is massively therapeutic, and without doubt, helps to clear my mind, and work through the trials and tribulations that daily life throws my way. There’s no point in struggling to keep on top of something which at the end of the day is only a vanity project though, and at the end of the day, I never set out to create a blog with multiple pages and weekly updates. I set out on this journey to update ‘The Old Cheese’ and a few other friends and relatives on what was going on in my life. To share a few pictures without having to resort to Facebook or such like, and generally make note of what I had been up to over time. to that end the self-imposed weekly update has really become a bit of a millstone around my neck at the moment. So, for the time being, I’m not even going to try and keep on top of the weekly thing, I’m just going to dip in and out, as, and when I’ve got time. And instead of weekly updates, it’ll just be a bit more irregular. I still love writing, and there’s nothing more satisfying than looking back at the older posts and remembering what I was up to at that point in time. So, I’m not going to give up, far from it, this little Blog project has become an important part of my life over the past few years. I’m just going to take the pressure off, be a bit more realistic in what I can achieve and do with my limited time and add updates as and when I can. So, to that end, let’s have a quick catch up on what I’ve been up to over the past 3 weeks.
Well, for a start there was the Punchbowl Marathon. That’s always a good little day out and despite the heavy rain shower, this year didn’t disappoint. 30 miles through the glorious Surrey countryside is always a treat, and rain or shine the long slow climb up to the Devils Punchbowl at Hindhead is always worth the effort. Even this year when the top was shrouded in mist and drizzle!
Despite the rain shower the distance felt good, and as with the Winter Tanners I managed to pace my efforts well, maintaining a steady pace throughout and covering the 30 miles in 5:22 which is a time that I’m more than happy with. I can’t just leave that there without saying a big thanks to all the marshals, who as usual went out of their way to make the day brilliant. It may not have been wall to wall sunshine, but a smiling face at the checkpoints as they check your number through, a big slice of cake and a refill of your water bottles and a cheery ‘Good Luck’ as you depart for the next one, more than makes up for a bit of drizzle.
I’ve had a couple of weekends of Audaxing too, to break up the running a bit, one of which went exactly to plan, and the other, well, maybe the less said about that the better.
First, we had the Chiltern Grit 200Km Audax from Aylesbury. I’ve ridden this one a couple of times before and it’s normally a good day out. From Aylesbury it’s a fast run down to Reading and back on major B roads to allow for the winter weather, followed by an afternoon loop to the North of Aylesbury, and I’d been looking forward to this one for some time. At the start I was still well up for the day’s adventures, but as soon as I set off, I knew that it wasn’t to be. I don’t know why but I just couldn’t get my head in the game. Within the first 30 minutes the time was dragging, and the lumpy, potholed, road surface was getting on my nerves. When you’re feeling good and the legs are working like they should, you can block out the relentless battering from the broken chip seal tarmac, the cars screaming past inches from your elbow, and the endless thumps and jarring on your wrists as the front wheel descends into yet another pothole that you can’t avoid because there’s a car sat right beside or behind you. When you’re not feeling it, those same things that you can normally ignore, by immersing yourself in the beautiful views, the birdsong and the joy of being outside, quickly become all consuming, and there’s no escape from the endless monotony of peddling ever onwards towards your fate.
The first few hours of Chiltern Grit , as I made my way towards Reading were just like that. All-consuming self-pity and the endless desire to stop.
I pushed on towards Reading, through the morning mist and drizzle, but by the time I got there with 33 miles in my legs I wasn’t having much fun. That fun was further eroded by a route change from previous editions which took us right into the center of Reading, along a mixed-use footpath for no real reason, and required an proof of passage receipt. On my arrival at the advertised checkpoint there was no shops (apart from a coffee wagon and a supermarket with no bike parking) to get a receipt, and that as far as I was concerned was day over. I really couldn’t be bothered hunting round for somewhere to provide a stupid receipt, just to prove that I’d cycled into the middle of Reading for no real reason. The 33 miles back to Aylesbury would give me a 100Km day, and that would do, my heart wasn’t in it, I wasn’t having fun, and I couldn’t be bothered hunting around to try and find somewhere to get a receipt from as ‘proof of passage’. By the time I got back to Aylesbury again a couple of hours later, I felt a bit happier, and was actually enjoying myself a bit more, but my mind had been made up at Reading, so I called it a day at the halfway point. That’s an unusual decision for me. It’s unusual that I don’t finish something I started, but cycling is supposed to be fun, not a chore and I wasn’t having fun, so why put myself through the pain of continuing? And that’s always the risk of routes that pass back through the start / finish on the way to somewhere else too. It’s just to easy to give up!
You’ll all be please to know that I’ve made amends for my miserable Chiltern Grit failure by getting out and actually finishing what I started this weekend though.
Saturday saw me on the start line for a new ride in the form of The Winter Warmer. A slightly easier endeavor, in that it was only 100Km. But, being along new roads I was looking forward to this one, and getting up Saturday morning after a cozy night in the van, I felt good and more than up for the challenge. I’ve said it before, but it’s surprising the difference a week makes in your mind set, and with the sun shining, frost on the roadside verges and the promise of a good day out, I rode up to the start from my overnight hideaway with a spring in my step.
A later than normal start and a shorter route seems to attract a bigger crowd (I’ve no idea why) and the village hall at the start was thronged with people getting ready for the days adventures when I arrived. Still slightly early, there was just time to grab a brew and a bit of toast, before the obligatory pre ride “mind the potholes” brief and the off.
There’s not much to say about this one, apart from the fact it was a brilliant day out. The early morning sunshine didn’t last long, with the skies soon clouding over and by lunchtime some heavy drizzle falling, which put a bit of a dampener on things, but did little to hamper progress. Without doubt the best bit about Saturdays ride, and why it will remain firmly lodged in my memory wasn’t the scenery, the weather or the route, good as they all were, but the catering and welcome at the controls. The first stop atop Winterfold hill had what can only be described as the best spread of goodies ever to grace a remote woodland car park. It may have been a wet car park in the middle of nowhere (not quite nowhere, at the top of a bloody great hill is where it was), but no expense had been spared. Hot brews, cake, bananas, more cake, and yet more cake, was being used to weigh down the gazebo that it was all sheltered under, and I can tell you for a fact, that with that weight of cake holding it down, a hurricane wouldn’t have moved it! The finish control was outstanding too. A warm welcome, hot brew’s, bacon butties and yet more cake. Exactly what’s needed after a long morning in the saddle, and an outstanding effort all round from all involved in organising Saturdays ride. I may have got wet, it may have been a cold, dreary and drab winters day, but a ride like that and the effort made by everyone involved in putting on a superb day can’t help but put a smile on your face, lighten your mood and leave you hungry for more. Roll on the summer is all I can say, if I’m having this much fun in the middle of winter, just imagine what’s to come as the weather gets better, the evenings get lighter, and the days get longer!
And finally, before I go, lets have a quick look at project MX5 and the allotment. There’s not actually much to report on the allotment, although I did spend a full day up there last weekend removing all of the glass from the greenhouse and scrubbing it clean. It’s amazing how dirty it gets, and it’s not had a really good clean for a few years, so it was well overdue.
It’s not the best of jobs to be doing on a cold winter’s day. But it’s the only time to do it when it’s not full of plants, and it’s a good job out of the way ready for a start to the sowing and growing season, which is fast approaching. It’s surprising how much difference a good clean makes to the amount of light coming in too. While were talking about things growing, I notice that the daffodils are in full bloom when I’m out and about (and in the garden), as are the first of the polyanthus, and the roses have got plenty of new growth showing too. There’s no doubt about it, springs just around the corner and hopefully I’ll get the time to sow the first seeds in the shiny and clean greenhouse on the allotment next weekend.
There’s been some progress on the MX5 over the past few weeks too.
Originally, I’d bought this knowing that it needed a load of work doing to it, the plan being to scrap most of it and use the running gear as the basis for a Kit car. Once I started driving it, I got a sort of soft spot for it though, and whilst the suspension and underside is in a sorry state, I kind of think that it’s worth saving as opposed to stripping for parts. The bodywork is in surprisingly good condition for its age, and it’s clearly had some love and money spent on it over the years. So maybe it deserves a reprieve and a bit of a restoration, and the chance to bring a few more smiles to someone’s face. To that end it’s now in the garage on axle stands with most of the front end removed and the R/H suspension stripped out whilst I have a good look at the work that’s going to be involved in saving it and make a final decision on what to do with it. My head says Kit car, but my heart says restore it, and heart normally wins! Whatever the final outcomes going to be, it’s going to be here for the long term in one way or another. But disappearing out to the garage for an hour after work to chip rust of a rusty car is a great way to unwind and quite therapeutic. Plus, it gives me a challenge to get my head into and something to think about on all those long, wet, runs and cycle rides, whilst I try to figure out my next step or problem. And as we all know, if there’s one thing, I love it’s a challenge.
It’s a BOGOF this week folks. That’s a Buy One Get One Free for the uninitiated, and it’s a BOGOF if more ways than one. Firstly we’ve got two weekends of excitement (or not as the case may be) to catch up on, but I’ve also been playing the same game both weekends, so we've got two remarkably similar tales to talk about.
As is often the case at this time of year, we’re in a bit of a lull on the running and Audaxing front. For some reason no one wants to go out to play in January, so it’s a case of making your own fun, and that’s just what I’ve been doing. The big advantage of no one else wanting to go out to play, is that you can get some really cheap Travelodge rooms in January. Fridays are normally cheaper than the other days too (I guess all the workers have gone home and the weekend trippers only want Saturdays) and Fridays in January are often the cheapest of the lot. With not much else going on, that's exactly what I’ve been up to the last 2 weekends. For the grand sum of £65 I’ve had 2 overnight adventures, and whilst a night in the Hammock is always great fun. In the middle of winter, when you don’t know what the weathers going to be doing, a warm and dry Travelodge room is a bit of a winner. Where have I been then? Well, last weekend the services on the A303 above Salisbury, provided the destination, whilst this weekend, the Services at Fontwell on the A27 beckoned.
Neither are particularly attractive destinations, but it’s not about the destination, it’s the ride there and back that matters. It’s dark by the time I get there, and it’s dark when I leave again in the morning at this time of year, so as long as it’s warm and dry, then that’s all I’m bothered about.
Handily, both locations are about 60 miles from work and home too (although Fontwell needs a bit of a diversion to bring the miles up), which makes it a good afternoon’s riding after work on Friday (Friday being POETS day (P**s Off Early Tomorrow's Saturday)), and a pleasant morning ride back on Saturday morning. Meaning I can still be back home in time for a late lunch on Saturday and a bit of pottering around in the afternoon with 100+ miles in the bag. What’s not to like about that then? Well, the only bit not to like as far as I’m concerned was the mean little head wind that blew in my face all the way to Salisbury last weekend, making for a tiring journey. That extra effort was more than made up for by the beautiful sunrise on Saturday morning, and the glorious, spring-like weather, for my journey down to Fontwell this weekend though. That’s enough waffle about that though, suffice to say, the winter Travelodge game is a great way to get away for an overnight in the middle of winter and a great way to see a bit more of our glorious countryside. It’s not the best accommodation, but it’s better than sleeping in a muddy puddle, and if you can find a cheap room, it’s almost rude not to take advantage!
What else have I been up to in the last couple of weekends then?
Well, I know what I haven't done, and that's sit down and go through the seeds that are left over from last year and get my seed order in for this year. It’s only a couple more weeks until the first things will need to get sown so I’d best get on with that little job. "The Emma's" on evenings this week so that'll be a good little job for one evening when I'm "home alone". While we’re talking about the allotment and things that I still haven't done, I really want to take the glass out of the greenhouse roof and clean all the moss and general murk off before the growing season starts and the greenhouse fills up. Typically, on the days I’ve been free and could crack on with it, it’s either been raining or blowing a gale, neither of which are particularly conducive to messing around with big sheets of fragile glass. There's still a few weeks yet before the sowing starts so hopefully the weather will play ball and I'll be able to get that little job ticked off. I really must get on with making some new staging for the greenhouse in the next few weeks too. After 20 odd years of faithful service, the legs on the staging I made when I got my first greenhouse all those years ago finally gave up the ghost when I moved it out of the greenhouse to make way for the Tomatoes at the start of summer last year. I’ve been meaning to get on with it ever since, but like everything in life, other jobs take precedent. I’m almost backed into a corner now though, so I suppose I’m going to have no choice but get on with it in the next few weeks if we’re going to have any veg for the plot come the spring! The reason I haven’t got around to all the things that I should be doing is that I’ve made a start on chipping away at the next big project. If you remember back a few months I picked up a cheap and not very good looking MX5. The original plan being to strip it for parts and use the bits as the basis for a kit car. Having driven it around for a few weeks, I’ve developed a bit of a soft spot for it though and I’m starting to feel sorry for it. As such I’m in two minds whether to strip it for bits, or restore it back to its original 1998 glory. Whatever I decide, there’s plenty of things that I can be getting on with that will be of benefit whichever way the coin falls, and to that end I’ve been hiding in the garage pottering around doing bits on that. And I must say it’s quite therapeutic. Taking something that’s been unloved, putting a bit of elbow grease and effort into it, and starting to turn it around, is quite satisfying. Whatever I end up doing with it, this little project is going to be with us for a while. I’m guessing that there’s at least 2 years of tinkering away between other jobs to keep me occupied, so it’s certainly going to be around as a project for a while!
Oh, and while I was busy running and pottering around in the garage on Sunday "The Emma" was busy too! Bread and Butter Pudding, Pain Au Chocolate and Ginger Biscuits - My favourites!
It's going to be a real quick one this week blog fans, because in an unusual turn up for the books, I haven't actually got anything to talk about, or tell you about. I've been busy pottering around all weekend, but none of it's of any interest and I don't even seem to have any photos to show for my endeavours. I've even had a few days off the bike, which is even more unusual. Although if I'm brutally honest, I think it's done me some good, because for the first time in many months, nothing actually hurt when I got out of bed this morning! With it starting to feel rather Autumnal, I've spent a fair chunk of the weekend tidying up, cutting back summer growth and generally starting to make the gardens and allotment ready for the winter. (Now there's a depressing thought!) On the allotment, I've taken down the Beans and Sweet Peas and their supporting canes which are now safely tucked away under the cold frame. The Sweetcorn are coming to an end, so they've been getting taken down as I've harvested them, and I've had a good tidy up in the greenhouse too, cutting back as much as possible to let the light in, and hopefully help to stop the damp and mildew getting to the remaining plants. There's still plenty to come from the allotment yet though, with more Beetroot and Chilli's than I know what to do with, Tomatoes still to ripen, and enough Cabbages, Sprouts, Leeks, Parsnips, Squash, Kale and Carrots to see us well into the winter and hopefully beyond. The fruit trees in the front garden at home have done spectacularly well this year too. We had more Plums than we knew what to do with (the plum jam is delicious by the way) and now the Apples are in full swing and I don't think that I've ever seen so much fruit on 3 small trees. I guess it's going to be Apples in my lunchbox for the foreseeable future, and if I manage to find the time then you really can't beat an Apple pie, although an Apple crumble comes a close second. Now there's a thought! Other than that it's been a weekend of odd jobs, none of which are of any interest. Although, having said that, I think I mentioned last week about the chain on my bike breaking. Well, I gave the bike a clean on Sunday and replaced said chain, and unbelievably there was another 3 links cracked right through, all of which are on the same side and in the same few Cm's of chain. My suspicions are that they've been weakened by corrosion. If I remember rightly I did a couple of rides in the depths of winter when the roads had been heavily salted and the bike got put away wet and salty, and I think it then sat for a while gently corroding before I found time to clean it properly. Either way, I'm absolutely amazed that the chain held together in the state that it's in and caused no further issues (I'm guessing that the snapped bits are on the trailing side of the chain as it works round the sprockets etc, and not the leading edge, or I suspect they would have been picked up by the sprockets and bent outwards leading to total failure). The broken link that caused the problems last week was on the same side and within a few links of these too! A lucky escape there I think and despite the failure, a positive review for the strength and damage resistance of KMC chains. And that's about it for this week folks, but don't worry, I've put my easy weekend to good use, and put some plans in place for a bit of adventuring for next weekend, so hopefully, I'll see you back here next week to find out what I've got planned!
Unusually, I’m going to start with a bit of a moan this week, or maybe more accurately a bit of a word of warning. Back in the summer of 2018, we replaced our kitchen, the units were a bit tired, there was a lack of power sockets and all the normal gripes that relate to a kitchen that had been fitted on the cheap before we bought the house.
The actual kitchen came from the company that advertises itself as the leading supplier of kitchens in the UK, and if I’m honest it was a disaster from start to finish. Having refused to accept my measurements, the specialist surveyor clearly couldn’t measure either, as when the units turned up, they didn’t fit in the space because the measurements had been annotated onto their drawing by their surveyor incorrectly. I’d even questioned this during one of the design meetings and said to the designer that the proposed plan wouldn’t fit, but had been reassured that their measurements were spot on and it would fit. I can’t remember now why I didn’t double check, or pursue it at the time, but I clearly didn’t as I expected the expert to be correct. How wrong could I be! Before we’d even got that far though I’d totally lost faith in them, as they couldn’t supply what they had promised during the design phase, a number of units had arrived damaged, and there were a number of manufacturing defects in the units that did arrive undamaged. Anyway, to cut a long story short, after loads of messing around, they did replace all the damaged and incorrect parts, and did give us a considerable discount on the cost, due to all the messing around and failings on their part. Cutting forward to the start of this year, I noticed that a number of the cupboard doors were starting to delaminate in the centre of the panels. Now, I’d already been regluing the very edges of a number of doors where the laminate had started to lift on the edges, but this was another level of rubbish. So I complained to the manufacturer, and fair play to them, they came back and said that they would either replace all the doors and panels with new items (to be fitted at our cost) or refund a significant amount of what we had paid in the first place. After a bit of discussion, we came to the conclusion that we couldn’t be doing with ripping it all to bits again, and if one set of doors had already failed, the chances of another set being any good was slim to none, so we took the money, and thought that we’d just live with it for the time being, with the long-term plan being to replace the doors etc with a handmade set that I’d make once I had a bit more time (Like that’s ever going to happen). Anyway, if that’s not enough of a warning to be careful when companies are telling you how brilliant their products are. Last week I noticed that another entire end panel had fully delaminated, with the laminate now flapping in the breeze. Now if this panel was against the cooker and getting hot etc, I might be able to accept this. But the panel in question is sandwiched in against the washing machine so never sees the light of day, and the laminate has just fallen off! Brilliant! I seem to think that the list price on these panels was over £100 each, and the laminate has just fallen off in 5 years! Granted, I’ve already had all the money refunded for the substandard product, but I’m pretty sure that it’s not supposed to happen like that. And at the end of the day, I’d rather have the product that I paid good money for last the expected life of the kitchen, than be looking at ripping the entire lot out again 5 years after fitting it. Buyer beware is all I can say about that! Oh, and while I’m on a rant, the washing machines only 6 years old and the bearings on the drum are on their way out. You can’t change the bearings though, because it’s a moulded one-piece drum, and a new drum is £200. So, for the sake of a £5 bearing, the washing machine is going to be getting scrapped in the very near future too. How in the name of all that’s holy is that acceptable!
Apart from trying to reattach the laminate to parts of my kitchen, the main highlight of this weekend was the Morris Major 200Km, or more accurately 215Km, or 220Km if you add in my bit of backtracking, Audax.
I’ve done this one a couple of times before and the things that stick in my mind from the previous attempts are that it’s blinking hard, and rather hilly at times. But just in case I’d forgotten how hard it is, I thought that I’d better have another go this year. Which is how I found myself gathered with a somewhat reduced number of like minded lunatics at early O’clock, on what showed the early promise of being a real scorcher of a day. Chatting with the organiser at the start he reported that the low numbers milling around waiting for the off were as a result of a number of nonstarters, mainly due the forecast temperatures for the day. And judging from the previous days temperature, and indeed the temperature at 07:00, I was starting to suspect that they may have made a wise decision.
Heading North in the cool of the early morning, the sun, still low in the sky, glints through the trees and casts long shadows on the road, whilst a Kite or buzzard circles overhead calling to its mates. Fields of freshly harvested stubble line the roadsides, and the trees, still green and verdant for the time of year after the summers endless rain stand proud against the clear blue sky, and all appears to be good with the world.
Considering the workload which I know awaits, and the heat, which was slowly building even at this early hour, I make a conscious decision to keep my pace and effort levels low, and it wasn’t long before I was being passed by a number of riders. It’s surprisingly difficult to hold back when riders which you could easily keep pace with are coming past, but I had a feeling that this was going to be a long day, and there was going to be plenty of time to make up any time lost at the start, if the expected temperatures materialised. Plodding along at my reduced pace left plenty of time for taking in the sights and views as I slowly progressed through The Cotswolds, as in turn the morning slowly progressed with me. Steep descents, followed by long, energy sapping climbs, whilst pretty villages of Cotswold stone, with church spires standing proud amongst the trees and rolling hills dot the landscape. Through Bibury where the road follows the river, an “info control” at Withington. Large groups of club cyclists coming the other way as I climb slowly up towards the A436, and the seemingly endless climb to overlook Winchcombe, where we cross the afternoons Tour of Britain route and I pass under the “king of the mountain banner” before the reward of the long, mainly downhill, descent towards the first stop of the day at Snowshill.
A slice of delicious homemade carrot cake, lovingly served by the organisers wife and daughter provide a just reward, and the ideal energy boost after the efforts thus far at the first control, and the next few miles prove easier going as we descend from The Cotswolds at Broadway to pick up flatter, faster, roads as we traverse into Worcester.
Rolling hills give way to fruit orchards, and my pace picks up slightly, although I was still trying to keep the effort level as low as possible as the morning progressed and the sun moved ever higher in the sky. Sweat glistens on my arms and drips from my nose on the gentle inclines and dust and pollen cling to the sun cream on my legs, turning it into a sticky, gooey, mess. The most Northerly point on the days route arrives at lunchtime and I make the turn to start heading back towards home. The long climb up to Astwood Bank sees the sweat once again dripping from my nose, but the views from the top more than made up for the effort, and the long descent down the other side gives me chance to catch my breath
Sweeping down the country lanes in the dappled shade from the roadside trees I pass a small green on a junction with an inviting bench and think to myself “I think I stopped there last year”. A couple of miles further on I come to a junction where there should be an “Info Control” but it's nowhere to be seen.
And slowly it dawns on me, I know why I stopped at that little green with its inviting bench last year, that’s where the “Info Control” is. Bugger! What now? Push on without the control information or back track back up the hill? I contemplate the options for a minute or two and then swing the bike around to make my way back up the hill again. It makes no difference, there’s no prize on offer, nothing to be gained from going back, but it’s the principle that matters. Missing control information gathered, it’s only a few short miles to Wellesbourne where I treat myself to an ice cream and refill my water bottles. There are some hard miles ahead and I’m going to need every bit of energy I can muster, to get back through The Cotswolds.
As I make my way back into The Cotswolds the climbing starts in earnest. Long, seemingly endless drags, ever upwards, and I find myself having to stop regularly as my body struggles to cope in the heat of the afternoon, my heart rate high, breath ragged, sweat soaking my top and dripping from the brim of my helmet.
I’m not the only one struggling though, and I pass another rider taking a few minutes, sat in the shade on a roadside verge, cooling off before pushing on. The climbs came thick and fast with barely enough time on the descents to get my breath back before it starts again. I’m making progress though and as the time starts to head towards 5 O’Clock I know that the worst of the days heat is behind me.
Bourton-on-the-Water is thronged with day trippers making the most of the late summer sun and I pick my way carefully through the pretty little village before stopping on the way out for another ice cream. You know it’s been a hard, hot, day when you’ve had two ice creams!
Heading back out of Bourton-on-the-Water I nearly manage to convince myself that it’s all downhill from here, conveniently forgetting about the climb up towards Little Rissington. One last effort and even that’s behind me and it really is all downhill for the final 10 or so miles back to the start. And a great 10 miles it is too. The heat of the day is starting to dissipate as the sun starts to sink from the sky, slowly turning the glare of the day into softer pastel colours, as the shadows start to lengthen again. Another 30 minutes and I’m rolling to a stop, back where the day started, just under 11 hours and 141 miles previously. There’s a couple of riders just got back as I arrive and more filter in as I sit in the evening sun chatting about the day we’ve just had with a brew and another slice of cake. Everyone agrees it’s been a hard one today. The temperature was over 30 degrees in the afternoon and with no shelter or respite from the sun it was hard going, but oh so worth it. The grime, dust and dirt from a long day on the road clings to the sun cream on my arms and legs, my lips feel dry, and my nose has caught the sun despite a generous application of factor 30. My skin feels tight as the salt from a day’s sweat dries and salt marks stain my top. But, as always, I’ve been to new places, seen things that I’ve never noticed before, ridden through pretty villages, admired the views from the top of hills, felt the wind in my face on long descents, enjoyed the dappled shade from roadside trees, and suffered up those endless climbs, but the satisfaction of a hard day’s effort and the memories of another day out, is all the reward that’s ever required. Although that carrot cake comes a close second in the reward stakes!
And just to wrap things up, let’s have a couple of photos of the allotment and gardens, including a new bit of fruit trellis that I put up last week to support the new Raspberries that I planted last year. I think I might carry this on for all the fruit supports.
Over the last 10 years I’ve spent a fortune on wooden stakes which just rot and fall over after a couple of years, and although the metal tubing is a bit more of an outlay, it’s not actually that much more and if it lasts a bit longer, as well as looking better, it’s probably a wise investment. That’s another little project to add to the list then (I keep on saying the list never gets any shorter!)
Right, having said last week that I was determined to keep on top of things, here we are again, and I’ve actually got something to talk about this week for a change.
As promised, I actually went out playing bikes last weekend amongst other stuff. But before we get on to that, lets just wrap up the little garage refurbishment job for the time being, because apart from a bit more tidying up, I’ve pretty much completed the first phase of my little garage / workspace project. I say pretty much completed, because like everything, I’m sure that over time it will evolve, and I’m still waiting for “The Emma” to acquire me some weights to attach to the solar panel before I fit that. But the space is at least now useable, and the majority of the tools are now in the correct places, so keep watching to find out what I’m going to be using this newly acquired dry space for. But don’t hold your breath, because there’s lots of other stuff going on at the same time, so it might be a while before I get back onto this one!
So, with that little update out of the way, lets get straight on to the weekends main event, the Airbourne 200 Audax, a gentle excursion through the Sussex countryside, taking in the delights of Eastbourne and the South coast, with plenty of opportunities for a bit of plane spotting along the way.
I’ll admit that I’d been a bit nervous about this one in the days leading up to it. I’ve not done any real miles for a few weeks and my knees and Achilles tendons haven’t really been playing ball, limiting any enjoyment and making me wonder if I was ever going to get back into proper bike riding again. So it was with some trepidation that I took the van down to the start at Horsham, and spent an uncomfortably sweaty night trying to get some sleep amongst the heavy rain showers and near 100% humidity that seem to have characterised the summer of 2023. Luckily, after a wet and humid Friday, Saturday dawned dry. Although as I made my way from my overnight spot to the start point, it didn’t look like it was going to stay dry, and it was still an uncomfortably humid morning. Formalities quickly concluded, it wasn’t long before we were ready to start the days fun, and after a quick briefing to warn us of the major hazards and biggest potholes, we were off. Passing through Horsham heading for Horley and beyond, the early morning departures and arrivals from Gatwick Airport provided some airborne diversions from the glorious countryside on offer at road level. Moving steadily Northwards the air traffic slowly changed from the outbound departures to the inbound aircraft as we made our way from one side of the airport to the other, signifying the passing miles in a pleasant way.
Lingfield, famous as a horse racing destination, marked the most Northerly point of the day and provided the first checkpoint, before we turned towards Ardingly and ultimately the coast.
The run down to Ardingly proved fast, on smooth roads with little climbing and little of note. The leg after Ardingly was however somewhat different, with the wind gradually increasing as the morning went on and we neared the coast, proving a forbearer of what was to come in the afternoon. Whilst there was little of note in the mornings leg, with the sun shining and the birds singing it was great to be out. Although, the one thing I must mention is the cycle path alongside the A27 which we picked up for the final 10 or so miles into Eastbourne. If you’re not familiar with this area, the A27 is an awful bit of road. It carries a heavy traffic load, but it’s only a narrow, single carriageway, in each direction, and Saturday, as I imagine it is most days, it was head to tail slow moving traffic, none of which was prepared to give an inch. That said, it’s also now got a new purpose built, segregated cycle / footpath, running adjacent to the road, and it’s brilliant. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that this is one of the best bits of cycling infrastructure that I’ve come across in this country to date (the best bit is probably the cycleway which runs alongside the Cambridgeshire Guided Busway). Traffic free, those miles along smooth tarmac where an absolute delight, and judging by the number of families cycling along, and walkers and joggers enjoying the morning sun, it’s a hit with them too, providing a safe environment to enjoy the outdoors and get to your destination. Other councils take note, this is how you provide segregated travel options, not painting a line on the pavement that crosses the road every 10 feet or putting up a sign, and schemes like this are the only way to increase cycling miles and reduce needless car journeys!
Those lovely traffic free miles couldn’t last forever though and before long we were spat back out into Eastbourne’s lunchtime traffic. Heading through town the sea finally hove into view and as we turned to start heading westwards along the seafront the full force of the wind came into play. This was likely to be a hard few miles!
Not only is Eastbourne on the coast, but it’s also the eastern end of the South Downs Way and the start of the Seven Sisters chalk cliffs. Which means it’s all uphill from the seafront to the top of Beachy Head and beyond. The long hot climb in the early afternoon sun bought a rare treat today though in the form of the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight completing their air display for the Eastbourne Airshow. Slowly ascending to the sound of Merlin engines roaring overhead and the odd glimpse of the Lancaster and Spitfires looping around over the sea was one of the real treats of the day, and by the time I reached the top of the climb and gained a clear view over the sea, they had been joined by a Typhoon, adding the sound of jet exhausts to the melee.
Eastbourne to Shoreham along the rolling coastal road, was a strange mix of fast enjoyable descents, slow gruelling climbs, heavy traffic, and that persistent nagging headwind which made for slow, hard, going.
Eventually though I reached the final turn point, and turning North the roar of the headwind stopped to be replaced with peace and quiet for the first time since lunchtime and the energy required to push forward reduced significantly. Steyning, Ashurst, and Billingshurst, came and went in the late afternoon sun as the miles ticked steadily down. Until, just under 10 hours since departing I rolled to a halt back at the start. And what a great day out it had been. It had been a few weeks since I was last out riding just for the fun of riding, and I’d almost forgotten how great a feeling it is to cover long distances by bike. The sun on your back, the wind in your face, something new to see around every corner. New roads, new places, new faces. Hard climbs, fast descents and the joy of being outside all day. A great route, a warm welcome at the start and finish, the sound of Merlin engines over Beachy Head, the sun glinting off the sea, crowds on the seafront, quiet country lanes and the sound of tyres on tarmac. Brilliant!
After Saturday’s exertions, Sunday was an easier day, and something completely different for me.
Unusually, I was at a loose end, but “The Emma” was signed up to take part in an Autosolo car event at Thruxton, so I tagged along for a day out. Now, anyone’s that’s been following along with my drivel over the past couple of years will know that I have no interest in driving whatsoever, in fact I'd go as far as to say I hate driving! But I do enjoy a bit of tinkering with cars, and I’m more than happy to watch someone else trying to kill themselves, or thrash the bits off their car, especially when it’s not on the road. As I was out and about anyway, I went direct to Thruxton from Saturdays Audax and met “The Emma” there. Well, I say “I met the Emma there”, I got there at the time she told me to be there, and she turned up half an hour later and then complained that I’d parked in the middle of the row of cars and there wasn’t room for her car beside the van. "Errr, no, when I got there, I was on the end of the row, and I kept the space clear for the first 30 minutes before I gave up!! Anyway, minor domestic sorted, I did my allocated duties and swapped the wheels on the Peugeot to the spare set, ready for Emma to ruin the tyres, and then went and volunteered my services as a marshal for the day, for which the organisers were more than grateful. Well, there’s no point just sitting around is there! It was a good day out too. “The Emma” had a great time thrashing the little Peugeot around, and I enjoyed my day sitting in the sun whilst helping to ensure everyone had a good time. And as an added bonus, the cars still in one piece too.
And finally. It’s an awful position to be in, when you’ve got so much veg on the allotment that it won’t all fit in the bucket, and you’re having to use your hat as a makeshift trug!
The allotment’s been really productive this year after a slow start, and is continuing to produce far more than we can eat. The fruit trees in the front garden are heavily laden with slowly ripening fruit too (except the pear, which has never borne fruit, despite being covered in blossom every spring) and I suspect that I’ll have to allocate a couple of hours next weekend to making plum jam. So watch this space, and I'll be back next week with some more uninteresting drivel! Right, I know that I keep on saying it, but let’s get this little Blog project back on track and try to keep it that way. I keep on making excuses for my lack of updates, but if I’m brutally honest, I’ve just been struggling for motivation and focus recently, which isn’t really an excuse at all. I’m sure that you've all had enough of hearing about my seemingly never-ending bout of injuries too, which hasn’t been helping with the mental side of things either. But I do finally think that things are on the mend. I still think that I’m a fair way from a full return to running, and even when I do eventually get back running, there’s going to be a long slow battle to regain anywhere near the fitness and stamina I did have. But my knees are definitely getting stronger, and I'm hoping I've finally turned a corner on that front. I’ve had a few weekends off the bike recently too, which seems to be helping on the injuries front, although the miles continue to mount up with the weekday commute, so I’ve not been totally lazy. I suppose this leaves one big unanswered question though. If I’ve not been running, and I’ve not been out playing bikes, then what have I been up to? Well, for a start, judging from the weather over the last month or so, I certainly don't feel like I’ve been missing anything. I don’t think that there’s been a weekend when it hasn’t rained since June, and I certainly haven’t missed getting wet, that’s for sure. What I have been doing, is actually enjoying doing some of the things that I’ve been neglecting over the past few years, while I’ve been busy adventuring. For a start the allotment looks better than it has for a long time and I’ve been really enjoying spending a peaceful couple of hours pottering around, chatting to my plot neighbours and generally enjoying the place on a weekend morning. Instead of rushing around trying to get things watered and under control before rushing off for yet another weekend away. The rains certainly helped with keeping things growing too. I don't think I've ever picked so many Runner and French beans, and there's still more to come. The greenhouse has been equally as productive too, and I’ve eaten more Cucumbers than I know what to do with, and given away even more. Likewise the Tomatoes are laden down with fruit, the Sweetcorn looks like it will be ready in the next couple of weeks, the Beetroot are the size of tennis balls and more then ready to start harvesting, and we’ve been scoffing Potatoes, baby Leeks, Carrots and Courgettes like it’s going out of fashion! Surprisingly, the rain seems to have kept a lot of the pests and bugs away too. The last few years the Broad and Runner beans have been massacred by Black Fly, but this year, I haven't seen any. Likewise, it's normally a battle keeping the Cabbage White Butterfly caterpillars from devouring all the cabbages, but again I've hardly seen any this year. It might have been a miserable few weeks of summer, but I suppose every cloud has a silver lining, and we need to be grateful for small miracles. I’ve been busy on other projects too, in fact the last few weekends have been spent on what will hopefully become a bit of a long term big project. I’m not going to reveal what that's going to be just yet, as there’s a lot of background work to be done first. But, this idea has been knocking around in the back of my mind for quite some time, but has never been even close to coming to life due to a lack of space. That all changed a couple of weeks ago when I managed to acquire another rental garage right outside our house. Now, you’ll note that I said another there, as I’ve already got a garage, but it’s crammed to bursting point with bikes, tools, DIY stuff, and assorted treasure, that’s far too useful to throw away and comes in handy on a regular basis. “The Emma” says that garages are for keeping cars in, but I note that she’s got a bike hanging up in mine, and when the BBQ comes out she doesn't seem to notice that it’s been stored in my garage all winter. Likewise when she wanted a bit of wood for something the storage garage provided, so it would appear that she’s wrong on that front! The plan for this new space isn’t to fill it full of treasure though, it’s to keep it as a workable space. Somewhere that I can actually do some work without getting wet. Obviously my little workshop’s dry, but it’s significantly limited on space. Even having made the best use of every spare inch I can, there’s not even room to swing a cat, let alone cut up an 8’x4’ sheet of plywood, or work on a car. To that end, whilst a drafty, dark, old, garage is dry, it’s not a very pleasant place to do any real work, so before I even think about embarking on a long term project, I’ve been busy making a usable space. And you know what, I’ve been having a great time doing it. Making and fixing stuff has always been the real passion in my life, and it’s something that I’ve not really done for the last few years due to the running and cycling taking over. Yes, the allotment has still been ongoing in the background, and I’ve had a couple of other little projects bubbling along, but this has been something to really get my hands stuck into and get the old grey matter working, and I’ve been loving it. I’ve forgotten about all my aches and pains, I’ve enjoyed a few weekends off the bike and I’ve made what will hopefully be a really useful space and lead to even bigger things over the next few months. And at the same time, I feel refreshed and reinvigorated and I’m looking forward to getting back on the bike next weekend for a bit of Audaxing. But before we go back to playing bikes, let's have a few pictures of what’s been occupying my time! |
Paul PerrattOld enough to know better, young enough to still feel invincible, stupid enough to keep on trying the same thing again and again. Cyclist, Gardener, Runner, Hiker, Cook, Woodworker, Engineer, Jack of all trades and master of none, Anti social old git and all round miserable bugger. Archives
March 2024
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