Today’s blog is brought to you by the Four Tops.  Hang in there, it’ll all make sense in the long run.

Earlier this week GB discovered a new hill.  I kinda fancied checking it out myself, but with him.  Well, if he’s not there, we can’t name it after him, now can we?  However I could ride today, he can ride tomorrow, and these two things are not compatible.  Time to choose another route.  Since I’d already been thinking of hills, then clearly it had to be a hilly ride, right?  So I planned myself a hilly ride.  A bit like my hilliest training loop but with another hill thrown in for good measure.  I have no idea why it seemed like a good idea.  And I have no idea why I was quite so keen on doing it either, as I think it may be a little early to be training for the Maratona.  But ours is not to reason why, right?  I posted my proposed route in the usual social media kind of places, but I couldn’t persuade anyone to join me.  Still, this did have the advantage that I could please myself as to when I left and what I did and the speed I was going to do it at, so I figured it wasn’t the end of the world.

Which would probably explain why I was on the road and on my way by 8:30am this morning.  Well I didn’t sleep well, so it was kind of a relief to get up and get going.  Besides, I was quite excited about my hills :).  I know, I know, what little is left of my sanity is clearly deserting me!  I was dressed for chilly and hilly – short sleeve jersey, arms (which you can roll up and down) and gilet.  Perfect, as it turns out.  See, layers is always the answer ;).

So.  Let’s start with Shipham Hill.  I deliberately didn’t push it as I knew I had a lot of climbing ahead of me, and I lost time in the Square trying to stop my longs sticking to my strapped up knee, so no records were broken today.  I plodded my way up to the top, glad I’d decided to set out feeling a tad cold because I certainly wasn’t by the top.  One up done, time for one lovely down, to Langford, before turning right and heading back to the Mendips.  As I cycled along into the sun I was painfully aware of the fact that if I was being blinded by the sun, so were any drivers coming up behind me, which was a tad worrying – so there was lots of precautionary checking over my right shoulder.

Duly warmed up it was time for the second climb of the day – Burrington Combe – still shrouded in darkness.  Which, once my eyes had adjusted, was a blessing really, as I felt a lot less vulnerable.  It was time for another quiet, slow, happy plod.  As it was still fairly early it was relatively traffic free, which was good as it can be a bit of a nightmare going up there as all the lorries try and cut over the top to Wells.  Only one of those today, and he passed at a relatively respectful distance, which was nice.  The same cannot be said for all the cars but hey ho, no news there.

Burrington Combe

As I neared the top the light from the sun was doing much the same, leaving me to do a sort of spiritual cyclist heading into the light kind of thing :).  I also discovered I can take photos while riding the bike – as long as I’m going uphill or on the flat that is.  Downhill I most definitely still need both hands.  It was all very scenic, but Autumn is definitely on its way out.  Most of the leaves are gone now, apart from the odd desultory orange leaf clinging on here and there (now there’s a good word!).

The aerial...without all the domes. Weird.

Having been warned to be careful of descending into Compton Martin, and, to be truthful, not entirely paying attention to where I was going, I ended up tweaking my route and dropping down into East Harptree instead, which was actually a much nicer descent, and totally cut out the A368 which is never a bad thing.  As I descended the sun went behind clouds, the temperature dropped a good three degrees, and my fingers were icy by the time I got to the bottom *brrr*.  Time to roll those arms back down again then!  I then got to spend some time on the relative flat, going a bit faster to warm up, making my way past Litton to Chewton Mendip.

It's another sign...

Chewton Mendip church with sun rising behind it. Oh, and sheep.

Right, must be time for another climb – this time all the way up the main road to the hill above Wells.  It’s the A39, or the New Bristol Road I guess.  Busy as ever, full of people desperate to get to Wells as quickly as possible.  There were several sharp intakes of breath, and quite a lot of internal tutting went on…but I managed not to actually swear at anyone, which I’ll have you know was quite an achievement.  Instead I pootled my way along, admiring the scenery, maintaining my sangfroid.  Well there are some nice trees up there, it was a bit warmer again, and I was on my bike.  Can’t be bad, right?

Cedar trees are my favourite.

I took a breather up near the top, ostensibly to take yet another photo, but also to make sure I was keeping hydrated and eating.  You don’t get up all those hills on oxygen alone you know.  I’m still trialling various bars and drinks, with no firm conclusions reached yet.

Trees. Mostly. Spot the odd one out?

Now for the bit I was really looking forward to.  Yes, the same descent the ACG did last week, through West Horrington.  And it was just as much fun as last weekend.  Well maybe a little less as I wasn’t trying to catch/beat anyone *grin*.  Since I arrived in Wells with a smile on my face, I thought I’d change my route and take in the Cathedral.  Clearly the Cathedral wasn’t expecting this, as if it had been, it would have been wearing scaffolding.  Well, it usually is!  Having caught it off guard, it was denuded of its usual metal work.  See – I can prove it!

Wells Cathedral

So that was three hills done.  One more to go, and it’s always a doozy.  Yep, time to go up Old Bristol Hill again.  Definitely the steepest of today’s climbs, and pretty hard work, but I just kept the pedals turning, the wheels on the bike went round and round, and slowly but surely I made my way to the top.  As I turned left towards Priddy, past the distinctive aroma of wood smoke from the Hunters Lodge, I became a bird.  A small flock of starlings took flight and joined me and for a little while we flew along together, in tesselated formations so tight that Escher would be jealous.  Oddly uplifting.  The sort of thing that makes you laugh out loud just at the joy of it all.  Just as well there was no-one around to hear me.  🙂  They left me, and I carried on my merry way to the last descent of the day down Cheddar Gorge.  It was even one of my better days for doing that – probably helped by the fact that I was on my own, there were no cars behind me, and I could just get on with doing it rather than worrying about being seen to do it wrong!  I passed various other cyclists going up, and a little bit of me did observe that clearly they were slackers as I’d already climbed the Mendips four times and was going home as they were just starting out *grin*.  Me – smug? Never ;).

From Cheddar to home was no distance at all, especially when it’s effectively flat, so I hurtled home feeling very pleased with myself.  I set myself a goal, and I achieved it.  Yes, ok, it wasn’t that impressive, but it was 2,800 feet of climbing in 40 miles, which isn’t small change.  Four climbs.  Four tops.  Well, ok, Four climbs, to essentially the same top, but you get the point right? *grin*.

Cycling time: 2:49:08 hrs
Distance: 41.17 miles.
Avs: 14.5mph
ODO: 11075 miles