Hmmmm, it would appear that last week turned out to be a bit damp, or was it just me?
Last week's weather was certainly a bit changeable. Sunday night was so cold at home that we lit the fire for the first time since last winter and my cycle into work was a bit chilly to say the least with a hard frost on the cars when I set off on my bike Monday morning. Wednesday morning at the same time, the thermometer said 15 degrees when I went to work, and since then I don’t think it’s really stopped raining. Despite the rain, I’ve had to get all my shorts back out again, having said on Sunday 'That's it I won’t need these again. Winters here’! The rain isn’t currently stopping play though (although it did make me think about it Saturday morning) and I’ve been out and about all weekend. Saturday was the Mid Sussex Hillier Audax. You’ll note the ‘Hillier’ there, because I could have just done the ‘Hilly’ version, but where would the fun be in that? To that end, I took the van down to the start Friday night, expecting a leisurely drive down and an early night, but oh how wrong could I be. I normally try to avoid traveling too far, so this weekend's fun was at about the limit of my vehicle based travels, and Friday was a reminder of why I try to avoid it. An accident on the M3 caused a delay, followed by the normal slow traffic at the M3/M25 interchange, and then to top it all off, some idiot had managed to to roll their car at the M25/M23 junction closing the motorway! So what should have been under 2 hours actually took 3 and a half, and reminded me that I hate driving at the best of times. 3 hours on the bike in the pouring rain, with the wind in my face, that's bearable. An hour sat in the van with the heating on, a hot brew in my flask and the radio for company? No thanks, I’d rather be out in the rain! Which I suppose in some ways is lucky, because when I woke up on Saturday morning the rain was lashing against the side of the van, and the forecast said it was in for the day. In fact the forecast, and the sound of the rain was enough to make me seriously consider if I was going out to play, or should I just stay in bed? In the end though, sense prevailed, and by the time I made my way down to the start at 08:30, the early heavy rain had petered out to more of a heavy drizzle. Luckily, I wasn’t the only brave soul that was prepared to face the weather, as there was probably a dozen or so other idiots milling around at the start discussing the great British weather by the time I got there, which was somewhat reassuring, in a kind of British eccentricity type of way.
Unfortunately, due to the wet and soggy conditions there’s a shortage of pictures from Saturday's ride, so you're just going to have to believe me when I say ‘ It was wet, humid, and hilly’.
I’ll admit that it didn’t rain all of the time. But when it wasn’t raining, there was still rain in the air. And the one time I did consider taking my jacket off, because it was far too hot to be wearing it, just the thought was enough to make it throw it down again 2 seconds later, as if to say ‘don’t even think about taking that off’! That’s not to say that it wasn’t a good day though. In fact I’d go as far as saying I had a great time out in the rain. There’s something special about taking on the weather and being outside when everyone else is hiding away indoors complaining that it’s too grim to go out. It’s the same as riding into the night. Everyone else is going to bed, but I’m pushing on so I must be winning. There’s that shared camaraderie with the other riders and more often runners (they seem to be hardier than the cyclists), that you get when the weather's grim. We're all in this together, and we're obviously all bonkers, but we’re still out here getting the miles in and that deserves a nod, or raised finger, of mutual respect as you pass each other like ships in the night.
It was a great route too, and one that I’d imagine would be fantastic if the weather was good. With plenty of far reaching views from the hill tops, and numerous beautiful country lanes to occupy your thoughts, there was more than enough going on to make the time pass in a blur. The fact that it was still a treat in the rain, with wet leaves and loose gravel covering every descent and causing the rear wheel to slip as soon as you got out of the saddle on the climbs, pays testament to how good a route it was.
Good route or not, it couldn’t go on forever, and at only 100 Km by early afternoon I was back at the start. I may have had wet feet (in fact my boots were still wet when I put them on to go to work on Monday) but I’d had a great day out, and looking back I really don’t know why I was even considering not starting due to the rain. At the end of the day it’s only a bit of water, and it’s pretty rare that it rains all day, I guess I must just be getting soft in my old age!
Having been in two minds about going out to play on Saturday morning, I was still in two minds about what to do Saturday afternoon. With the rain continuing to fall and no sign of it abating, I had 2 choices. I could either head for home, or find somewhere on the way back to park up for the night with a view to getting in a bit off gentle running on Sunday morning.
A look at the map with a brew and a biscuit for places on the way home, threw up the North Downs Way at Guildford as a good start point. The North Downs Way is on sandy soil there, so as long as the rain abated at some point during the night it shouldn't be too muddy, and it left me close enough to home to not have a long drive on Sunday afternoon. Now, I’m not holding my breath on the running front, but I think things are finally on the mend and I’ve started slowly putting a few miles in again. I’m not counting my chickens before they hatch, and I’m forcing myself to really limit the miles and time on my feet, but I’m hopeful that I may eventually be able to get back some form of proper running, even if it’s nowhere near where I was at the start of the year. Sunday morning dawned clear and bright and pulling on my running shoes after a light breakfast felt familiar and exciting after such a long lay off. (Apart from a few brief miles in June I haven't run properly since the Cerne Giant Marathon back in March!). But those first few steps on the sandy soil with the cold morning air biting at my exposed arms and legs, the birds singing and the sun shining down from a clear blue sky instantly reminded me how much I’ve missed running and especially off road running over the past few months. Plodding gently along the sandy trail, following the North Downs Way signs, watching my foot placement on the rough ground, dodging the puddles and other obstructions on the narrow path and admiring the beauty of the British countryside, I felt like I’d never been away. The depressing days thinking I might never run again, hobbling up and down the stairs, struggling even to ride my bike some days, instantly forgotten as the first mile unfolded under my feet. From the off, the path wound slowly uphill, leg muscles that haven't been called on for months slowly remembered what we were doing, whilst the familiar, but forgotten, feel of my breathing, regular and in time with my footfall, provided a steadying reassurance and a reminder not to push too hard. I didn’t really have a destination in mind when I set off, but I knew that St Marthas Church wasn’t too far away which seemed like a reasonable aiming point, and then I could see how I felt when I got there. What I didn’t expect was to feel like I did when I did get there! Surprisingly it wasn’t as far as I thought it was and within a couple of miles I was cresting the climb up to the church. I’ve shared pictures from here before, and on a good day you can see all the way to the South Downs, and even on a bad day the view is worth the effort of the climb up. Sunday though, as I turned the final corner and came out from the tree lined path and the view opened out in front of me I was stopped dead in my tracks. The valleys below were filled with low lying mist, whilst the sun shone down from the clear sky. A train rattled along in the distance, the birds sang from the trees surrounding me, a pair of squirrels bound effortlessly across the path and into the trees on the other side, and instantly all was good with the world again This is why I run and cycle, this is why I’ll put up with the cold and the rain, this is why I’ll struggle on with frozen fingers and toes on a winter's day, this is why I’ll put up with inattentive car drivers trying to kill me on a regular basis, and this is why I am going to get back running eventually even if it kills me! It’s the odd day when you round a corner and are met with a view like this that makes it all worthwhile.
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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!
I’ve said it before and no doubt I’ll say it again, but what a difference a week makes. Last week was so hot that it was almost unbearable, and this weekend I’ve got absolutely soaked twice. Although the rain is still pleasantly warm, so getting wet isn’t the disaster it is in the middle of winter, when it’s icy cold and chills you to the bone in a matter of seconds.
How come I’ve got wet twice in one weekend then? Well, in an unusual turn of events for this year, I’ve done 2 Audax’s in as many days. Saturday was the End Of The Lines 130Km starting from Bristol to take in a loop into the Cotswolds, and whilst I was there, why not take advantage of the travel and do the Wye Gravel 120 Km on the Sunday too! Although it wasn’t a particularly early start on Saturday, in fact by Audax standards it was a positive lay in, I took the van down and found myself a nice out of the way spot for a relaxing evening on Friday night, leaving myself plenty of time for an extra brew on Saturday morning, before riding the mile or so to the start.
The normal pleasantries completed, it wasn’t long before we were off, heading for the day's first destination at Calne, via the Bristol and Bath Railway path. But not before having to stop within the first half mile to don my waterproof jacket, as first a few spots of rain brushed against my bare legs, and then the heavens opened into a torrential downpour. Oh well, it saves having a shower later I suppose.
Luckily the rain only lasted for an hour or so, although whilst it was coming down it was pretty heavy, but by the time we’d reached Chippenham and pushed on towards Calne it had stopped and the sun was making a valiant, if unsuccessful, attempt to make an appearance. A brief stop as we crossed the Wilts and Berks Canal to get the required information for proof of passage, provided the ideal opportunity for a quick sandwich and a quick look around at the canal. I’d never heard of the Wilts and Berks Canal before, so this was a nice diversion and to me is the beauty of these rides. No matter how well you think you know an area there’s always something new to see or learn about, and it’s always interesting when I come to write my little adventures up, to sit and have a read about the new places that I've been too. Canals and railways fascinate me at the best of times. I think it’s the sheer endeavour and labour that went into digging these impressive structures that triggers my imagination, so finding a new one is always a delight.
I can’t spend all day investigating canals though, so eventually I tear myself away and push on towards the next stop at Tetbury where I stop for a brew and a delicious slice of bread pudding at the Whistle Stop Cafe, which is housed in the old goods shed which served the Tetbury branch line before it fell victim to Mr Beechings cuts in the 1930's.
Refreshed and revitalised I pushed on through some glorious Cotswold countryside, making steady progress along secluded county lanes, puffing and panting up long steady climbs and for possibly the first time ever, dismounting to walk down what was one of the steepest paved roads I’ve ever come across at Waterley Bottom. Although I’ll admit that the potholed, uneven road surface and the hairpin bends on the way down did little to inspire my confidence to ride down it.
Back in the saddle all that remained was to push out the final few miles to take me back to Bristol, via some of the flatter parts of the Severn valley and Thornbury. In fact, I was back at the van having a brew and a late lunch by 15:00, just as the rain returned, not the torrential rain of the morning, but the make you wet and miserable type, that really gets you down, so I suppose I should count my lucky stars that the majority of the day’s fun had been dry.
And what fun it had been. New roads, new places, new hills, climbs and descents, and a generally lovely route with a nice mix of well surfaced tracks and trails and quiet country roads with plenty to see and investigate on the way round and certainly one to come back and do again if the opportunity arises.
But wait, there’s still more cycling fun to follow, because I got to do it all again on Sunday.
After a comfortable night in the van, Sunday dawned overcast, dull and damp, with the distinct feel of Autumn in the air and the forecast of heavy rain for later in the day. A forecast for a bit of rain wasn’t going to put me off though, you never know it might not happen! So I pulled on my shoes, which were still wet from yesterday's fun, packed my still damp rain jacket, and set out for the start with a smile on my face at the joy of riding through the deserted early morning streets of Bristol for the second time in as many days.
To be honest I wasn’t too sure about Sunday’s ride, and the other bikes at the start did little to dispel those uncertainties. The ride name of Wye Gravel should give the game away, and the majority of steeds on view were indeed fully equipped for a day off road. Big chunky tyres, no mudguards, 1x12 chain sets and all the other trendy “Gravel” accessories that accompany the latest trend. In fact, my 32mm tyres and mudguards looked positively out of place, but at the same time, people were riding on paths and tracks long before “gravel bikes” were invented and I’m sure they managed perfectly well, so let’s see how we get on, and at the end of the day, if off road isn’t working, then the roads just there! There was no problem or need for Gravel bikes as we set off in the opposite direction to Saturdays ride for some easy road miles to take us to the Severn Bridge, where we crossed over to Chepstow to dip our toes into Wales, and almost immediately left the safety of the local roads to pick up the Wye Valley Greenway.
Those first few miles along the Wye Valley Greenway were a real treat. Smooth gravel surfaces made for comfortable miles and the journey through the Tidenham tunnel was brilliant. At a 1000m long and deep underground the tunnel is the perfect roosting spot for a number of bat species and as such it’s only opened at certain times of the year and even when it is open is barely lit with a strict no lights policy to protect the bats.
In the dark and gloom, it’s easy to imagine the toil of the Navvies that hacked the rock apart to build the tunnel, and the hard graft that went into building it, and it was almost a shame as the small pin prick of light that marked the end of the tunnel grew gradually larger, until we were spat back out into the daylight and a return to normality.
A few more easy miles along the Greenway eventually led to the first of the day's numerous crossings of the River Wye, which, still tidal at this point, was flowing strongly upstream. A change of terrain here saw the smooth Greenway and tarmacked roads replaced by a rough bridleway along the riverbank.
Beautiful scenery following the river upstream, but hell on the wrists, as we plodded slowly along the rough grass track. Eventually though the bridleway petered out to be replaced by more gravel paths with sections of road in between, and the painfully slow progress picked up slightly.
With the morning progressing, and the forecast rain holding off for the time being, it was approaching 10:30 when the first checkpoint at Biblins campsite and tea room hove into view.
This is another hidden gem of a place, accessible from the opposite riverbank via a suspension bridge which sways and bounces worryingly as you cross, it’s nestled deep in the shadow of the Wye valley with steep wooded hillsides to other side, and it is a sheltered, tranquil, jewel of a place, and does an excellent line in cake, including some lovely Bara Brith.
With the day advertised as having 2000m of ascent over the 120 Km, at some point the easy miles were going to have to be replaced by some pretty big ascents, the first of which came immediately after the first control where the track went steeply uphill, to climb the valley side, and remained resolutely uphill for what seemed like forever.
Just before I reached the cloud base, the climb eased off and we re-joined the road for a few easy downhill miles of tarmac. Shortly after starting the descent, I noticed my chain jumping between gears, occasionally at first, and then with a growing frequency. Adjusting the rear derailleur cable made no difference, and it took a while of trying to catch glimpses of what was happening between my legs, whilst still paying attention to the road ahead, to work out that one of the chain link side plates had snapped, resulting in the chain being unshipped from the cog every time it went through the derailleur. Pulling in at the first convenient stop, a proper visual inspection confirmed that indeed the side plate had totally separated on one side, and the chain was only held together by half the link. That’s not a problem though. I’ve been lugging the tool for this exact eventuality around for the last 10 years and 50k miles, and in fact I’ve often looked at it and though “Why am I lugging that around with me”? Well todays why! 10 minutes later and I’d unpacked the tool kit, removed the damaged link, replaced it with a quick link that I’d been lugging around for the same length of time, repacked everything, eaten a sandwich from my saddlebag with dirty greasy fingers, and was back on my way. There’s no doubt that when you're miles from home, it pays to be prepared, and the slight weight penalty from carrying a decent set of tools and a few spare parts to get you out of a pickle, certainly pays dividends on the odd occasion that you actually need it.
Another long steep climb followed my unscheduled stop, taking us away from the river again to re-ascend the steep valley side, from where we picked up yet more narrow off-road sections and fire tracks, which clung precariously to the valley side.
Somehow, in the hour or so that followed, I managed to get off track a couple of times, resulting in having to retrace my steps, and by this time the novelty of off-road riding was definitely starting to wear off. The constant having to pick my way around obstacles, watch for stray rocks and tree routes, mind the muddy sections and bits of loose gravel, and the constant feeling of only moving through a narrow tree lined path, with no views to either side and nothing to look at, but more of the same, was wearing thin. So, when it started to rain, I really wasn’t having much fun off road. A few minutes later, as the rain started to fall in earnest, I realised that yet again I was off route, and by this time I’d really lost interest. Looking at the map there was a road intersection ahead, and if I took that, I could roll down to the valley floor and pick up the road which runs alongside the river Wye, which would take me directly back to Chepstow.
The second my wheels hit that tarmac, my mood lifted. Yes, it was still raining, in fact it was even heavier now I’d left the tree cover behind. Yes, I was back to mixing it with the traffic and impatient car drivers. Yes, it was still just as hilly. But it was back on familiar territory for me, and it would appear from recent off-road excursions, back where I seem to be happiest.
My speed lifted as soon as the road smoothed out, I had time to look around again without worrying about falling off the edge of the path, and on the road, I know what I’m doing, it was like coming home after a long trip away. Heading back towards Chepstow along the valley floor in the pouring rain, I had some decisions to make. If I headed straight back to Bristol my day would be a DNF (Did Not Finish) or with it being an advisory route, I could just find a road route to take me to the next checkpoint, get the required information and then head back to Bristol with a validated Brevet card. Being back on the tarmac I had plenty of time to study the map as I made my way towards Chepstow, and it didn’t take long to identify a route that would take me back to the next checkpoint after my little road diversion. The only question now was “Did I actually want to extend my day in the lashing rain with an uphill slog to the next checkpoint, or should I just call it quits and head for home”?
As is often the case, that conundrum answered itself. As when the time came to make the decision I just turned off the main road and headed uphill towards Shirenewton without even thinking twice about it. That was obviously meant to be or I would have had to think about it!
The ride up to Shirenewton from Chepstow in the rain was nowhere near as steep, or long, as I’d thought it would be, and in fact I suspect that my diversion may actually have been faster than staying on the supplied, more direct route. Either way, within a few minutes I’d got the required answer to the “Info control” and was back on route, heading back to Bristol and ultimately home. The wind, as I crossed the Severn Bridge for the second time that day, had picked up since the mornings crossing and was now throwing the rain straight into my face, where it dripped from my helmet, ran down my legs and filled my shoes, and tried to find its way through any gap in my jacket, no matter how small. However, once back over the bridge, the wind was more behind than in my face, and the rain gradually eased off, leaving just a few short miles to push out before the “Arrivée” hove into sight, signifying the end of another day out. Despite the rain and my apparent dislike for off road cycling, it had been a great day out too. As with Saturdays ride, I’d been to some places that I’d never been to before, I’d seen some stunning scenery, crossed a suspension bridge, crossed the Severn Bridge twice, been through the Tidenham tunnel that I’d never even have known existed if it wasn’t for this ride. I’d fixed my bike en-route, further reinforcing my ability to cope with any situation, and remain self sufficient whilst I’m at it, and chatted to some jolly nice people on my way round. And what’s not to like about that?
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!)
Well, this is a turn up for the books isn’t it, after weeks of rain during what should have been the Summer, as we start to move towards Autumn it’s 30 degrees and wall to wall sunshine. What’s that all about then?
Whatever the weathers up to, hopefully it’ll keep doing it for a few more days and I can reap the benefit next weekend, but until then I suppose that we had better get up to date with last week’s exciting adventures. And I’m afraid that you might be disappointed on that front, because the weekend was neither exciting nor adventurous. I have however been out and about, instead of just sitting at home complaining about being bored, and in fact I spent most of the weekend in the New Forest. Saturday saw a return of the International Autojumble at Beaulieu after a hiatus due to the Covid kerfuffle, so I took the van down on Friday night and Saturday morning joined the thousands of others heading towards Beaulieu. Now, before we go any further, I know what your all thinking. An Autojumble, isn’t that just a massive car boot sale for car parts and other assorted junk? What’s our intrepid adventurer doing there? Well, bear with me on this one, because it’s a bit of a trip down memory lane. Back in the dark ages when I was in my early teens, my stepdad (Ernie) was heavily into the Vintage and Veteran motorbike scene, which with my inquisitive nature and mechanical bent, fitted in well with my formative years. Tinkering with old engines, visiting motorbike rallies and riding round the countryside on the pillion, or in the sidecar, of whatever old motorbike he had at the time, was all great fun as far as I was concerned. Finding spare parts for motorbikes etc, which have long been out of manufacture, is a problem though, and that’s where the Autojumble thing comes in. Everyone that’s got surplus spare bits gets together, and you go on a big treasure hunt searching for the bits you need, that hopefully someone else might have. Now, having not only an interest in old motorbikes, but a predilection to collecting anything that didn’t move, meant that we always had a house full of stuff that Ernie had collected, and my mother wanted shot off, and that’s where my initial involvement with the Beaulieu Autojumble came in. Because what better way to get first dibs on everyone else’s junk, than by trying to shift some of your own by having a stall at Beaulieu! I’ve got fond memories of the years that we went with the caravan and trailer full of stuff to set up stall and spend the weekend trying to flog most of it. So, when someone told me that the Autojumble was back on this year and it transpired that I didn’t have anything else arranged for the weekend, I thought a trip down memory lane might be in order. And you know what, It was, and I had a really good day out. Unsurprisingly, because I don’t need a rusty cylinder head for a model T Ford, or a fuel tank with a hole in it for a 1912 Triumph, I didn’t buy anything. But from the moment I got there all those memories came flooding back. The joy of hunting through boxes of rusty spanners looking for the ones with bike manufacturers names on whilst Ernie directed proceedings. The delight of wandering around the stalls of old engines, car and bike parts, and other paraphernalia, which probably helped to cement my love of all things mechanical, and the willingness with which those stall holders would impart their knowledge on an impressionable teenage lad when I showed an interest. The haggling over price which always seems to be a part of any non-shop transaction, whether that be buying or selling. The dirty fingers from a day handling old bits of metal, the smell of old oil and grease, and maybe on a less positive note, my mother’s desperation as yet again we went home with more treasure than we had arrived with! Oh yes, happy memories indeed, and whilst I probably won’t rush back again next year, I had a really good day out wandering around the various stalls and poking through piles of rusty old metal, it was just like being a kid again. Although, I suspect that if you ask “The Emma” she’ll tell you that I’ve already got enough rusty old metal and projects to last a lifetime and bringing home more is strictly forbidden. Which sounds very similar to my Mother, and just like Ernie did with my mother, I’m turning a deaf ear to her too. Although, come to think of it, that approach didn't work out too well for Ernie, so maybe that's not the best idea!
Whilst I was down in the New Forest it seemed like a good idea to take advantage of the journey and get a bit of cycling in. So, after my fun at Beaulieu and a lazy evening watching a game of village green cricket whilst having my tea in the van, and a quiet night, I was up early for a few miles of bike fun.
Nothing to strenuous, just a gentle 100K around the periphery of the New Forest on quiet country roads amongst the ponies, trees and open moorland. On the road before 07:00 there was a distinctly Autumnal feel to the morning with a low-lying mist obscuring the sun and adding a heavy dampness to the air.
It didn’t take long for the late Summer sun to work its magic, and by the time I’d reached the coast from my start point, the mist was long gone and the sun was burning down brightly from a cloudless sky. Sail boats, their white sails standing out against the blue water dotted The Solent as I made my way towards Lymington, before turning inland to leave the coast behind, as I made my way around in a large loop.
I’ve ridden these roads plenty of times before and spoken at lengths about the joys (or not) of the New Forest, so I’ll let the few pictures that I did take do the talking for today and just say that the entire morning was a joyous experience. The sun shone, the roads were quiet and smooth, the hills gentle and the wind on my back for most of the day. Brilliant!
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! Ahoy, Hoy, as they used to say. What's happened to the Summer? We had a few nice weeks in June, and since then it seems to have been either blowing a hooley (whatever one of them is) or damp and miserable. I'm not complaining too much mind you, (although actually I am), because whilst it's not been the best weather for getting out and about, I don't really feel like I'm missing anything. Plus it's doing wonders for the allotment, and I'm not lugging loads of watering cans full of water about! Saturday morning I ventured out into the gale for a few miles on the bike, nothing to strenuous, just a quick 50 mile blast around the local area, but there's a couple of things of the back of that that are worthy of mention. First and most impressively, I ventured out early in the hope that I would miss the worst of the rain that was forecast for most of the day. I got back home just after 11 and just as I walked up the garden path it started spitting with rain. By the time I'd taken my shoes off, it was throwing it down, and 12 hours later, when I went to bed, it was still raining. Now, I don't seem to have been having much luck recently, but maybe this is a sign that my lucks on the change? The other thing from Saturdays ride is the time of year. Now it's nearly the end of July, and as I slogged along with my head down into the howling head wind, I noticed that lots of the fields alongside my route were still filled with unripe cereal crops, and it occurred to me that none of the farmers have started harvesting yet. Now, this seems to back up my theory that we are a couple of weeks behind on the allotment, and so it would seem are the farmers. In fact checking back through the old blog posts for July 2021 and 2022, shows pictures with harvested fields and straw bales for this very same week. So what does that tell us? Well I don't know, but it does seem to confirm that the summer so far has been pretty miserable, and that my previous ramblings about the growing season being a few weeks behind are probably about right. Taking advantage of the wet afternoon I spent the rest of Saturday making jam. That Redcurrant bush I mentioned last week on the Allotment was absolutely laden with ripe currents, just waiting for picking, which is exactly what I did Friday evening. A couple of hours on the plot in the evening sunshine, yielded just over 3KG of Redcurrants from my single bush. Which I think is pretty impressive, and is certainly the most its ever produced. While I was there, there was plenty of other Veg for the picking too, and I returned triumphantly, with a nice haul to see us through the weekend, including the first of the Tomatoes. I've got to add that homegrown Tomatoes are the best thing ever. They're head and shoulders above those tasteless things you buy in the shops. I'll admit that the skins tend to be a bit tougher, but that's a small price to pay for something that actually tastes like it should do, and if you've only got space to grow one thing, I'd say Tomatoes would be the one, probably followed closely behind by Cucumbers. The next question is what to do with 3KG of Redcurrants? "The Emma" came in from work whilst I was sat in the garden destalking them and said "Oh, Redcurrants, yummy" before grabbing a handful and shovelling them into her mouth. I don't know if you've ever tried Redcurrants but they're up there with the sharpest tasting things on the planet, and it only took a few seconds before the look on her face turned from one of joy at having managed to steal some of my treasure, to a look of horror as the sharpness hit her taste buds. That'll teach her! Currents destalked, washed and cleaned, it was into the pot with a couple of spare apples to extract the valuable juice, as step one of the jam making process (Currents have annoying little pips that don't go well in jam, so the best bet is to get rid of them, and just use the juice, I find raspberries and blackberries to be the same). Apart from an accompaniment to roast meats and a tasty addition to the gravy boat, I never really know what to use Redcurrant jelly for. It's a still a bit too sharp for my tastes to spread on toast, and it doesn't really work in the morning porridge, so as a bit of an experiment I've tried Rhubarb and Redcurrant jam this year, alongside the normal plain Redcurrant jelly. I've no idea what it'll be like, but the initial tastes as I was making it seemed promising, and at the end of the day, what's the worst that will happen? Even if it's horrible I've only wasted a bag of sugar and some time (the most valuable commodity of them all), but even if it's too sharp to eat on toast I'm sure it'll add a bit of taste to the Sunday gravy. Watch this space, and if you never hear from me again, it's probably because the Rhubarb and Redcurrant Jam has been the end of me, I'll be sure to report back either way! Despite managing to hide some of it in the jam, I still had a load of Rhubarb left over and no idea what to do with it. I love it simply stewed with a bit of sugar. The only problem with that being that I'll keep dipping in for another spoonful out of the fridge and come dinner time I'm full of Rhubarb. Casting round for other ideas for using it up, I wondered if it could be dried and preserved? A quick Google, seemed to suggest that it could be, but no one seemed to have any use for it once it had been dried out. There wasn't much point in just dehydrating it so the fun of it, so I wondered what would happen if I added loads of sugar to it prior to dehydrating it? There was only one way to find out, and as before what's the worst that will happen? So Rhubarb finely sliced, covered in a good handful of caster sugar and allowed to stew for a few minutes and then into the dehydrator for 18 hours. "What's the worst that will happen"? In this case nothing. It's a taste sensation is what it is! I don't know how well it'll keep, because it's still quite moist, and being covered in sugar it's a bit sticky, but I don't think that's going to be a problem because I can't keep my fingers out of the jar. The best way I can describe it is like those chewy sugar coated sour sweets you get. It's chewy, with a sweet start from the sugar, then the tartness as the Rhubarb kicks in and floods your mouth with sharpness. If I was trying to replicate chewy, sour sweets from home made ingredients, then this would be as close to perfection as you could get. Beautiful! Right, just before I go. I came home from work one day in the week, to be hit by the most beautiful aroma of flowers as I walked through the gate. Sitting in the garden having a post work brew, it was almost overpowering.
And where was this amazing scent coming from? Well, it didn't take long to track it down to a couple of Lilly's that have just bloomed (although that should probably be "had" by now, as they won't have survived Saturdays rain). It's the little moments and things like that, which make gardening and growing things in general so special in my opinion. It's a years worth of nurturing, tending and growing, but when the flowers come out, or the veg is ready for picking, the rewards, smells, tastes and sights, are just so rewarding. And on that note, I'll leave you with a few pictures of the garden, and sign off for the time being. I'm off to Cardiff tomorrow for "The Boys'" university graduation. That's another one that took a lot of nurturing, tending and growing, but he got there in the end, and as with the flowers, it's just so rewarding to see the finished product! Well, here we are again. Hopefully, you'll all be pleased to know that I'm still alive, just, (quiet at the back!). Unfortunately though, it's going to be another rather dull update in this episode of "What's Paul been up to". Hopefully, you will be pleased to know that whilst I'm still not running, things do seem to be improving, and my Knee and Achilles tendons which have been giving me loads of problems are starting to feel a bit better. This has been the first week in a long time that I've actually been able to run up and down the stairs, and instead of getting out of bed in the morning and hobbling round the house like some sort of stiff legged donkey, I've been out of bed and on my feet with no problems. To that end, I've ventured back to lunchtime circuits at the gym a couple of times this week, and whilst my knees feel no where near strong enough to run on, they do feel like things are moving in the right direction, which is a positive and has done wonders for my mental health. I still think there's another couple of months ahead of me before I get anywhere near running again, but even that's better than nothing. The problem now is not pushing too fast and ending up back at square one! Whilst I haven't been running, I have still been keeping up the work commute on the bike, so the bike miles are steadily creeping up, and although I've been struggling a bit for motivation on the bike front, I think that things are improving and unlike this time last month, when even the bike felt like a slog, I'm enjoying the morning and afternoon rides into work and back again, and I'm quite enthusiastic about getting out on some longer stuff in the coming weeks. So I suppose the big question on everyone's lips is "What has he been up to then while he's not been adventuring"? Well, the main focus of attention for the last couple of weeks has been car related. I may have mentioned during my last update that "The Emma's" 206 GTI had failed it's MOT, and not just a little fail either. The main problems being the rear axle suspension arm bearings, and the fact that the fog lights switched themselves off at random. The rear axle bearings are a known issue on these cars, but not an easy DIY fix. The quickest and easiest solution being a reconditioned rear axle. But nothings ever that simple and to get the rear axle out, the brakes have to be stripped down, brake pipes removed, wheel hubs and bearings removed, and shock absorbers removed too, and then the fun of getting a heavy old lump of metal out from underneath the car begins. Never one to shy away from a challenge, it wasn't actually too bad a job, and while it was in bit's I took the opportunity to treat a few more rusty bits, clean up all the removed parts and replace all the rear suspension bits and wheel bearings etc, which should hopefully give it a few more years life. The Fog light issue, well that was another matter, mainly because I listened to "The Emma" instead of doing what I should have done and carried out some proper fault diagnosis. "The Emma" was adamant the the indicator stalk was the problem, so I duly found one on E bay and ordered it. Once it arrived a bit of delicate dismantling and reinstalling had the new one fitted and once back together, yes you guessed it, it was exactly the same. Doing what I should have done in the first place I eventually narrowed the problem down to the electronics unit behind the steering wheel and managed to find a reconditioned one for a reasonable price, which did fix the problem. Just creeping in within the 10 day MOT retest window, it's back on the road again for another year and in far better condition than it was before. Now all I need to do is sort the bodywork out, where it's starting to show a few initial signs of the dreaded tin-worm, and well be good to go for another few years. In other news, the allotments going great guns and after a slow start things are finally starting to come together. We've been eating Broad Beans and Peas for the last few weeks and tucked in to the first of the French Beans this week. There's lettuces ready to pick and I've had tucking in to home grown Cucumber, which is far superior to those tasteless shop bought ones, in my sandwiches for the last few weeks.
The soft fruit is starting to ripen up nicely too. Whilst the Strawberry crop was a massive let down, the Loganberries have been very productive, producing more than enough for a breakfast treat with my cereals every day, whilst leaving plenty left over for jam making. I'd hope that the Runner beans and Tomatoes will be in fruit by next weekend and the Redcurrant bush is groaning under the weight of fruit on it too, so hopefully there's plenty more still to come in the next few weeks.
I don’t want to speak too soon, but it certainly looks like the weather has finally taken a turn for the better. After what felt like weeks of endless howling easterly winds, the last few days have been sunny, warm, and pleasant, apart from a brief thunderstorm on Sunday evening and some rain overnight, which I’m sure the garden and allotment are more than grateful for.
The change in weather seems to have cheered me up a bit too. It’s amazing how much better cycling to work on a warm, still, hazy summers morning is, compared to a wet, miserable, windy winter commute. While we’re talking about cycling, I got out Saturday morning and had a better day than I have for a long time. As I mentioned last week, I’ve had a slightly different approach this weekend and it made a real change. Saturday, I had a couple of ride options all of which started reasonably close to home, 100, 200 or 300km options all appealed, but in the end the 100 won out. I’ve done the 200 before and it’s a great route but my thoughts today were that I could extend the 100 by riding to the start and back and adding a few extra miles in, plus I could have a leisurely day out and still be home in time for tea and medals.
With an 09:00 start, even riding to the start left plenty of time for a leisurely start to the day and I headed out from home into the morning sunshine, just after 07:30 (that’s a right lay in for me).
For the first time in a long time, my legs felt pretty good as I headed towards the start along familiar roads. My recent saddle tweaks seemed to have done the trick, as the aches and pains that have plagued my recent outings never materialised, although only time will tell if that’s a permanent improvement or not. It didn’t take long to knock out the 15 miles up to the start, just long enough to burn off enough calories to justify having a cup of tea and slice of toast at the start. Noting the empty trestle table where the brevet cards for the 200 and 300 riders had been, and the couple of left over cards from non-starters, raised a slight pang of regret, and the thought that maybe I should have been out getting some proper miles in, instead of messing around with a 100. But then I remembered that if I’d done the 300 I’d have already been on the road for 3 hours. I wouldn’t have had a leisurely start to the day, and i wouldn’t have been sat there drinking tea and eating toast whilst chatting to my fellow riders and having a lovely time. I’d have been out on the road somewhere!
Bang on 9 O’clock we were back on the road heading for the days first checkpoint (and the option for another brew) at The Saddleback Farm Shop at Farnborough (Berkshire).
Chatting with a fellow rider as we made our way through the countryside, the miles flew by. Long steady climbs rewarded the effort with expansive views from the tops and fast sweeping downhills. Birdsong filled the air as we traversed narrow country lanes and the sun shone down from a cloudless sky as we made our way North(ish) through picture postcard worthy English countryside. Almost too soon, the first checkpoint arrived, and our farm shop hosts had gone above and beyond expectations, setting up a tea stall outside with ready packaged cake offerings and hot brews to avoid the short queues in the main café. A slice of delightful chocolate brownie, a hot brew, and expansive views across the surrounding countryside from my seat on the sunny patio, reminded me yet again what I’d been missing in the race for ever greater distances and PBP qualifying rides. This was more like it, riding for the sake of riding, exploring the great British countryside from the saddle of my bike and taking the time to stop, look and listen. Proud Oak trees, church steeples standing proud against the surrounding countryside or peeking above the surrounding hills, Skylarks singing, Red Kites soaring majestically, roadside verges filled with a multitude of fresh verdant growth and wild flowers, fields with wildlife margins bright with Poppies, Squirrels watching intently with one eye as they go about their endless business, Deer standing tall amongst the fields of crops, listening and watching as you pass, and the unspoken camaraderie of fellow cyclists. Yes, this was what I’d been missing.
Much as I could have sat all day and watched the world go by, it wasn’t achieving much. My earlier companion had already departed by the time I’d finished daydreaming and I set off again alone. I’m happy with that though. Don’t get me wrong, I like a bit of company occasionally and I’m always happy to chat and pass the time, but at the same time I’m happy in my own company, just me and my shadow going about our business unnoticed.
Pushing on, the delights continued in the late spring sun. Mile after mile of quiet country roads through glorious rolling countryside, the surrounding fields a multitude of shades of green, silently basking under the baking sun. Through quiet villages unchanged, bar the addition of the ever-present motor car since the invention of the bicycle, across steams and brooks, filled with cold, brilliantly clear, fast-moving water, making its way silently to the sea. Past Duck ponds, manor houses, farmyards, and churchyards. Over railway bridges, erected before the advent of motorised transport, yet still doing their job over a 100 years later, across the Kennet and Avon canal where the working boats have long since vanished and been replaced by holiday makers and those seeking an alternative, more relaxed form of living, past horse riders, walkers, runners, and other cyclists all enjoying the wonders of the great outdoors in their own way.
An ice cream enjoyed sitting in the sun provided proof of passage for the next checkpoint and then a final few miles along more familiar roads as I made my way back towards the start. Burghclere, Kingsclere, Aldermaston, and Silchester with its Roman walls and ruins, all came and went, as I made my way steadily along.
Long climbs, short climbs, fast descents and twisty sharp bends, their corners loaded with loose gravel ready to catch the unwary, each provided variety and challenge. A brief spell into a head wind towards the end, made me grateful for those low gears and drop handlebars, as I got my head down to try and provide a smaller, more aerodynamic front, in an attempt to cut through the wind, but all the while a smile on my face.
Before I’d even had time to think about it, I was back at the start, the majority of my day done and still only just approaching 14:00.
A brief stop to get my brevet card stamped and signed off, refill my water bottles and thank the organisers for a brilliant day out and then it’s the small matter of the 15 miles back home. That’s no hardship though, not today, the sun’s still beating down from the cloudless blue sky and I’m as happy as Larry (whoever he is).
What a difference a few weeks make and what a difference a slight change of approach makes. I was back home with exactly 100 miles completed just after 15:00, leaving plenty of time for a shower and a bite to eat, and still had time to get the weekly shopping done before “The Emma” got home, and I’d had a really great day out.
In fact, I’d go as far as to say that it’s been a long time since I had that good a day out.
Whilst things are looking up on the cycling and running front (hopefully), there’s been a bit of a setback on the Allotment!
Having gone to great expense and effort to erect a Pigeon proof enclosure to protect my precious fruit and veg from their beady eyes I arrived at the plot Friday afternoon to find a Pigeon sat slap bang in the middle of my fruit cage! Not only was he sat there watching my approach with his beady eye, but he was also looking particularly rotund and pleased with himself! As soon as I got close, he flapped off, crashing noisily into the sides of the net before bouncing back off again and repeating his fruitless escape attempt at the opposite end a few times. Now I’ll admit that I’m not over keen on flappy things, or little scurrying things, or cats, dogs or horses, which doesn’t leave many things that I am keen on, and having chased the stupid Pigeon from one end of the cage to the other a few times I was starting to wonder how I was going to get it out. Whilst stupid, flapped noisily around, I took the opportunity to survey the damage he’d managed to do. Now, you’ll be amazed at how much destruction a single pigeon can cause, and this one had been busy. The little sod had stripped the leaves from every single Brassica which I’d spent time raising from seed, nurturing, watering, planting out and generally trying to get to grow. That’s 15 spring cabbages, 15 winter cabbages, 15 kale, 15 sprouts and 15 broccoli plants. To say I wasn’t impressed is an understatement! Fortunately for the pigeon a gust of wind lifted the net revealing the gap that it had obviously got in through and it beat a hasty retreat. I say luckily, as having seen the destruction it had caused my thoughts of shooing it out of its temporary prison, quickly turned to getting hold of the little git and making it into pigeon pie, so it had a lucky escape! I’m not happy though. I’ve fixed the small gap that it got in and back out again through, so hopefully that’s put an end to that. But I’m not so hopeful about the Brassicas. I’ve watered them a couple of times in the hope that they’ve got a strong enough root system to bounce back from their attempted murder. But I’m not hopeful, as they weren’t doing that well to start with, so it’s just going to be a case of keeping my fingers crossed and if they don’t look like they’re going to recover starting again! I’m sure these things are sent to test us and test us they certainly do! You might have noticed from the tone of my recent posts that thing’s haven’t really been going to plan recently. My knees are still a long way from being right, and I really seem to have lost my way a little bit recently. I know that I’m incredibly lucky to be as fit and healthy as I am. But, 3 months ago I was running marathons and cycling hundreds of miles without problems. And suddenly finding myself unable to run any further than the back gate without my knees hurting, and then having problems with my other leg during my recent Audax outings has been a bit of a blow! I managed a couple of short runs (2.5 miles) a couple of weeks ago, with no real problems and thought that things were looking up, but then last week I pushed that up to 5 miles and I’m almost back to square one again, although a couple of days rest over the weekend have seen an improvement. Likewise, I tried moving my saddle position on the bike last weekend in the hope that that would help with my cycling issues. And whilst there was an improvement, things still didn’t seem right and I’m not confident that that has solved any of those problems either. The biggest problem is that the only way to really find out if things are any better is by pushing the distance back up again, but I really don’t want to be stuck miles from home, in pain, with no way to get back again. It’s a catch 22 situation! Add into the mix the fact that my real goal for this year was the Paris- Brest - Paris 1200Km Audax which required a 600Km qualifier ride in the next couple of weeks and everything seemed to be stacking up against me. To that end, I’ve had some hard thinking to do over the past couple of weeks and had some difficult decisions to make. As I mentioned above the main target for this year (once the running went South) was Paris- Brest - Paris, which I had been looking forward too. But as the weeks have gone on and my knees have been playing up, the thought of achieving a 600Km qualifying ride within the correct time window, has gone from being an enjoyable one, to a lead weight hanging over my head. The thought of doing 600Km on legs that could barely get round a 200 the other weekend was filling me with fear, and that time window was just pressure that I don’t need. Plus, when I really started to think about it, I’m not even sure if I wanted to go to Paris in the first place. Paris- Brest - Paris is the big Audax ride, it’s the big one that started all the others and if you look at the Audax UK website you’ll see that qualifying for Paris- Brest - Paris was the whole reason Audax UK was set up in the first place, but does that mean that I really wanted to go and do this ride, or was I just being dragged along in the knowledge that it was the “done” thing? Last year there was no way that I was a going to miss out on London Edinburgh London, I’d have sawed my own head off to ensure that I was on the start line. But Paris- Brest - Paris, I’m not so sure! The whole thing was just becoming unnecessary pressure and a bit of a pain in the backside. Even if I did the qualifying rides, there is still the small matter of getting to Paris and back, and all the messing around that entails, and could I really be bothered with that? As I’ve already said, this weekend was supposed to be a 600km qualifying ride, and I’m guessing that the “supposed too” gives that game away. But. Friday morning, I took my Audax bike in to work to see how my legs felt, and despite feeling Ok over the 22-mile commute, things still didn’t seem quite right. Getting home I hit on the idea of taking my work commute bike instead. My legs have always felt Ok on that and although it wasn’t set up for Audaxing, I could probably manage a 600 on it as a one off, which seemed like a reasonable plan. Friday afternoon, I spent a couple of hours messing around swapping wheels, handlebar extensions, lights and a tyre around and doing a bit of general fettling, with the plan being to try and get the 600 in, even if it killed me. By the time “The Emma” got home it was nearly 16:00 and I was still messing around. I wasn’t really achieving much and was really just wasting time. I should have been getting ready to leave, not just filling in time pottering around and finding excuses not to be getting ready, but my heart just wasn’t in it. When “The Emma” came out with a brew and to see what I was doing we had a bit of a chat, and for maybe the first time I voiced my fears and told her that I didn’t actually think I had this weekend’s 600 in me. 600Km’s a massive distance however you look at it. And the fact that half of it was going to be directly into a head wind, my knees hurt before I’d even started, and my heart really wasn’t in any of this, made it seem like an impossible wall to climb, and not something that I was looking forward too. 90% of any long ride is mental resilience and having the will power to keep pushing on when the going gets tough, and if I was thinking about quitting before I’d even started, then what chance did I have? “The Emma” played the voice of reason, but I knew deep down, as I suspect that I have for a while, that this wasn’t going to happen. I sat in the sun for a while trying to make up my mind what to do. I huffed and puffed, I stomped around for a bit, I had another brew, and then I decided to go out for a couple of miles to shake my legs down and see how the changes I’d made to the bike felt, and hopefully decide what I was doing while I was out. I was only going to go round the block. But once I reached the end of the road, I felt like carrying on. The sun was shining, the wind was on my back (for the minute) and I headed out on a little route that I used to ride when I first got back into cycling properly, 10 or so years ago. It had been a long time since I’d last been this way, and my thoughts turned back to those early days. The hills that I now breezed up, had seemed like mountains all those years ago. Legs, strong from thousands of miles, propelled me easily along, and lost in my thoughts, some clarity started to appear. Paris didn’t interest me enough to put myself through a 600 this weekend, that was just unnecessary pressure. But I realised something else too. I remembered what I was missing and what I probably really wanted to be doing instead of pushing endless distances. The thing that drew me back to the bike was getting out there and exploring, it was stopping to have a sandwich in a field gate, whilst admiring the view, it was stopping for a brew mid ride, it was stopping to get my breath back and just stopping to look at something that caught my interest. All things that had been lost in the endless push for longer and longer brevets in faster times. Those few miles from home on Friday afternoon reminded me what I’d been missing and what I really wanted. I didn’t want the pressure of qualifying rides, I wanted to be riding for fun, and that’s what this was. Mind made up then? Well not really, I was still Umming and Arrring when I got home, but I knew deep down that I didn’t really want to go to Paris, I was just doing it because everyone else was, and it was allegedly the done thing. And I’m afraid that isn’t enough of a reason to push myself around a 600! So, I pulled out of the weekends 600 and I’ve abandoned my plans for Paris- Brest - Paris too. And you know what, it feels like a massive weight off my mind. I suspect that in a few weeks I’ll probably regret that decision. But it wasn’t a rash one, and I think I’ve known deep down, that I didn’t really want to go for quite a while, so I don’t think it’s a spur of the moment decision either. And at the end of the day, if I’m not enjoying the process then what’s the point. Cycling is supposed to be fun, not a chore. What now then? Well, for a start I’ve bought myself some thinking time and the chance to try and get back to some solid miles and pain free training (both running and cycling).
Now that there’s no pressure, I actually feel enthused about other things too. I’ve booked onto a couple of shorter rides in the coming weekends that I can get to from home, which I’m actually excited about, and I’ve got lots of other things that I want to do (not cycling or running) that I’m excited about too. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not abandoning my cycling and running plans, and I fully intend to get back to full fitness as soon as possible. There’s still lots of things that I want to do on both fronts, but now there’s no rush, apart from my rapidly diminishing running fitness levels, and I can hopefully take the time to get back to where I want to be without causing longer term damage. To that end, those of you that are just here for the ridiculous running and cycling adventures might have to bear with me for a while. But in the meantime, as I’m allergic to sitting around doing nothing, I’m sure that there will be plenty of other stuff to occupy the odd blog update. A few sneak previews of which are below, just to possibly pique your interest. |
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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