I woke up this morning to sun streaming in through my window.  Given that I was supposed to be getting up at 6:00am in the dark, ready for my Winter mini-sportive, this was not a good thing.  It was, as it turns out, 8:37am.  The start line was 90 minutes away, and I was due over it between 9:00 and 9:30am.  You do the math, as our trans-atlantic friends say.  Ah b*gger…

As is my wont, I took to the twitterverse to bemoan my situation, to be kindly informed that it was proper icy out there and it was probably all for the best really.  To be fair, although I wasn’t pleased about it, I wasn’t surprised.  I hadn’t really been feeling it last night – wasn’t excited, was lacklustre about it all – and I think my instincts knew it wasn’t to be.  I’ve been under the weather all week, with some sort of cold type thing, and my tummy has been unhappy too so I haven’t eaten much for days either – not the best preparation for a long winter ride.  But I’d have done it anyway – you know me.  However clearly my body knew better.  I never over-sleep.  I never lie-in.  In fact I’m frequently not all that good at sleeping at all!  So for me to both get an early night and to sleep for 9 1/2 hours is a pretty clear indication that something is not quite right.  The spirit was willing…the flesh was…well, the flesh knew better *grin*

Which left me with quite a dilemma.  What to do instead?  I couldn’t face yet another gym session.  Six in a row?  No thanks.  The thought of ice on the road sent shivers down my spine, especially after January’s little mishap, but the sun was shining, and I didn’t want to wimp out completely.  So I compromised.  Yes, apparently I can compromise.  Who knew?  Following an invitation to coffee by a man flu stricken GB, I decided I could ride for an hour or so a little later on, to give any ice time to go, and then walk up there and back – thus safely covering the two hour rule.  It seemed safer to be out on my own for an hour than for two.  At least that way in case of accident I’d only be half an hour or less away from home.  Although there would still be no-one with me to scrape me off the floor, this seemed less scarey at that distance.  I said I could compromise, not that I could be logical ok?

I put on all the layers I could, temporarily transforming from thecyclingmayor into themichelinman, and headed out around 10:30am.  I made myself a loop that mostly stuck to main roads (gritted) or those facing into the sun (melted), and to the flat.  I don’t mind climbing hills, and it’s a darn fine way of keeping warm on a day like this, but the idea of hitting a patch of ice going down t’other side was quite a deterrent.  So it was straight down the A38, across to Mark, through to Wedmore, back to Cheddar via Nyland, and home.  I only saw 3 other cyclists whilst out there, one of whom kindly advised me to watch out for the traffic which was apparently mental.  Having made the mistake of coming home past the hordes emerging from Cheddar car boot, I think he had a point…

Cycling time: 1:07:57 hrs
Distance: 18.93 miles.
Avs: 16.6 mph
ODO: 11344 miles

It was never going to be a fast ride, what with the cold, the wind, and the restrictive layers, but I think that’s a fairly respectable speed, all things considered.  It was also reasonably hard work, thus further demonstrating that riding 60 miles might well not have been a good idea even if I had made it up in time this morning.  But it was a ride, and after ten days without one of those, man did I ever need to be on my bike :).  And then I got to do coffee and cyclist chat with GB later.  It was kind of like one of those Masterchef meals where they break a recipe down into its constituent parts and reinvent it – a deconstructed ride.  All the usual elements but not together :).

Today may have been my first event DNA, but on balance I think it’s worked out for the best.  My FB friends inform me that everything happens for a reason, and that my body was trying to tell me something.  Maybe they’re right.  So I’m over it now :).

Outside my window waves of ominous grey clouds were blowing past at alarming speed and even through the double glazing, all I could hear was the wind.  My resolve wavered… But the twitterverse was behind me, so if I’d wimped out, I’d have had some explaining to do.  Besides it would be wrong to break the rules, right?  So I did some work, time passed, and out there started to look a little more attractive.  Time for Rules 5 and 9 respectively.

There’s only one thing to do when the wind is in your face, and that’s to head out into it, so last night I planned my route accordingly.  A seaside loop with hills – which meant starting by going up Shipham Hill.  Only 5 minutes down the road, just as I started heading upwards, I looked down and realised my pump was not where it should be.  Now I could have continued, crossed my fingers, and hoped…but I know better than to tempt the cycling gods *sigh*.  A quick u-turn, back to the house, one pump duly attached, and time for Take Two…

It was cold, and it was into the wind, and it wasn’t a whole heap of fun, but somewhat bizarrely my time to the top of Shipham Hill was 14:15.  Not my best ever but…my 2nd best ever!  To be managing that at this time of the year, in winter kit with winter wheels, is quietly gratifying :).  OK, not that quietly, since I’m telling you all about it *grin*.  On with the show…and round the back roads and out to Puxton, where it’s flat but pretty exposed.  Head down, into the wind, with a mind full of tacking, reefs, battened down hatches, and any port in a storm.  My nautical thoughts were interrupted by what is rapidly becoming the bane of my life.  Yes – more cows!

Yep - more stupid cows.

It took a while for the bovine road block to be moved on to wherever it was they were going.  Once they finally did, it was a case of once more unto the breach..but as I got underway again, who should I see coming towards me, amidst a flock of multicoloured MAMILs, but the Captain of the good ship Gandalf himself.  Also known as Dad *grin*.  He rides, they ride, I ride – the laws of coincidence say it was bound to happen sooner or later.  We chatted briefly, two ships that passed in the night, before they went one way, I went the other, and the nautical metaphor stretched so far it broke.

That was followed by an interesting footbridge detour on the way to Wick where the bridge over the railway ass closed and I had to carry the bike up several flights of stairs – all very cyclocross and probably quite amusing for the watching building crew.  I was starting to wonder if I was ever going to get the chance to build up some momentum!  Especially when I discovered that the worst of the wind was to be found at Sand Bay, where progress became crab-like, and the airborne sand was verging on the painful.  I never have been a big fan of exfoliation ;).  It was a relief to get up the hill to the coast road, though it was a good thing that I’d decided not to have a coffee stop as the New Castle was closed.

Sand Bay beach

Waves at Sand Bay

I took a quick break half way along to take a couple of photos and show you how choppy it was out there.  The Police may have informed me at some point along here that I did not have to turn on my red light but at this time of year, with low light, shadows, no light, I’m afraid that my little flashing red light will be staying on just to make me that little bit more visible.  Every little helps right?

Eventually I turned the corner and headed down into Weston with the wind finally and blissfully behind me.  Well, apart from the one random massive gust at the traffic lights that nearly blew me over…there was very nearly an embarrassing failure to unclick in time incident.  But I triumphed over adversity, stayed upright, and headed off at wind-assisted speed to Uphill and beyond.  As I went up Bleadon hill I could actually feel the wind pushing behind me which was unusual, and not unappreciated ;).  It continued to be useful for quite some time too!

Having had that mini hiccup to start with, and what with the hills and wind, I could easily have cut the route short at various places, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.  A plan is a plan right?.  So once again I came home via Christon and Winscombe Hill rather than the Webbington, even though either route would have conformed to my nearly set in stone over two hour rule ;).

Christon church

Christon has a lovely Norman church that I keep meaning to check out – the arched doorway is lovely as you can see.  I’m a sucker for a good Norman arch *grin*.  Christon is also where our Christmas tree comes from – we go and pick one out every year, and ours is currently sitting in the corner looking very lovely :). Anyway, it’s one of my favourite routes home, especially with the light at this time of year and the clear views all over the valley, and then of course there’s that lovely down over the motorway to be enjoyed too.  It’s also easier done when the BW isn’t sitting on your wheel!  Then it was time to go up Winscombe Hill – which is getting to be a habit again.  Well, going up it all the time is clearly good for GB, so I figure it’s worth seeing if it works for me too *grin*.  It went much the same as ever, and my reward was the effortless (for which read wind-propelled) swoop down the bypass to home.  As close as you can get to flying… 🙂

Cycling time: 2:25:15 hrs
Distance: 36.72 miles.
Avs: 15.1 mph
ODO: 11325 miles

Not bad right?  977 metres of climbing apparently.  That and the wind will account for the speed, which isn’t that bad anyway.  I’m very glad I (wo)manned up and went out because as it turns out, I really enjoyed it :).

Dressing for cycling is a bit like Goldilocks.  Sometime your layers are too cold.  Sometimes your layers are too hot.  And sometimes your layers are just right.  Today it was just right :).  The wonderful thing about the winter jacket is that though the wind hits you, and goes round you, and pushes you, it does not go through you, which makes a massive difference to keeping warm.  It was the first time out for my new woolie boolie socks too, and they helped keep my feet toasty and warm.  All in all another good ride :).

Today is an ACG day.  It started with this morning’s ride, and will finish with the annual ACG Christmas do.  Anyone would think my life revolved around cycling or something ;).

In an 100% improvement on last week’s ACG ride, 4 of us turned up in the Square at a slightly later than usual 9:30am.  Bet some people didn’t pay attention to their email…  Anyway.  Me, GB, GF and the Boy Wonder rocked up, and debated the wisdom of our various layering strategies.  The BW was, as ever, woefully under-dressed – especially when you consider he has as much meat on him as a twiglet.  I pointed out that he has parents to nag him, so we weren’t going to.  In fact today’s biggest challenge may have been resisting the urge to say “I told you so” when he complained about the cold! *grin*

One of the wonders of cycling with other people is that sometimes the route is not up to you, and you can just let it all happen.  Today’s went something like this and was entirely GB’s invention.  I’m guesstimating, but am probably not far wrong.  Looks like 1132 metres of climbing – which is not to be sniffed at.  We started with the Gorge which, considering the cold and the wind, was a pretty good way to warm up.  As ever, the worst of the truly horrible wind was to be found up there on the top of the Mendips.  We did our best to avoid it – hiding behind hedgerows, tacking hither and thither, but when we turned left towards Burrington Combe there was no avoiding it – and we were really slogging our way along.  Just before our well earned descent, GB and I discovered that we were but two, and turned back to find that a spoke in GF’s rear wheel had gone.  After all that work to get up there, to get all warmed up, there was nothing for him to do but place a call to t’other half and beg for a ride.  Interestingly enough her initial response was exactly the same as my other half’s would have been.  “No I haven’t fallen off!” said GF… *grin*.  GB parted with spare layers to wrap him up as best as possible, and we headed off leaving GF to jog on the spot until rescue arrived.

Right, time for one of my favourite descents – Burrington Combe.  And it was as much fun today as ever.  I may nearly have the hang of it ;).  I kept a respectful distance from GB, as with the road surfaces as they are you don’t want to be finding yourself in a situation where sudden braking is required!  In fact I got two good descents today.  After plodding up past the Walled Garden, and wriggling around some interesting new roads around the Butcombe area, we got to go down Brockley Combe too.  We were going so fast we didn’t even really annoy the traffic behind us *grin*.  That just left us a final draining slog into the wind over to today’s coffee stop at the Strawberry Line Café – another new one for us.  It’s a community café – very nicely done up, very friendly, and an americano with some very good carrot cake only set me back £3.75.  Not bad.  And the cake?  Very good indeed :).

Luckily the majority of the miles were now behind us, as the thought of many more in that cold and wind were almost enough to keep us in the café.  It was most definitely cold as we set off again, which meant going a bit faster than usual for a while to warm up.  For a little while the sun even graced us with its presence, making it all that bit more pleasant.  We took the most direct route back – Congresbury, back roads to Sandford, through to Winscombe, up the delightful Winscombe Hill and home.  GB peeled off to go and retrieve his tin can from Weston, leaving the BW and I to climb that hill by ourselves again, as a little light rain started.  As we flew down the final straight along the bypass it became blatantly obvious where the wind was, as we hit 30mph without even trying.  Definitely fun :).  As I took my exit, for home, he went off to play silly games with hills, complaining of the cold.  No…I won’t say it….ooh, but it’s so tempting…*grin*.

Cycling time: 2:50:38 hrs
Distance: 44.32 miles.
Avs: 15.5 mph
ODO: 11288 miles

There – that makes up for those recent rides that have come up short, right?  I am totally loving my winter jacket and overshoes as I was just the right degree of warm today which no doubt accounted for me not finding it as much hard work as I might have done otherwise.  I forgot to take photos while I was out, so I took this one on the way to buy our Christmas tree a little later on, to continue the recent compare and contrast theme.  Yesterday Brent Knoll looked volcanic, rising out of the mist.  Today it looked almost biblical :).

Brent Knoll

Right, time to get ready for the Christmas dinner.  How will we cope seeing each other in civvies not lycra?! *grin*.  Possibly just as well it’s only an annual thing… 😉  I’m sticking with the cycling theme and having pasta to eat though – and I think I may have earnt the odd celebratory glass of wine :).

Finally December is here and so, it would appear, is winter.  To be honest, having seen this year’s first frost out of the window this morning, swiftly followed by fog as the sun rose, I came very close to bailing.  I even went so far as to ring Mim, but as she assured me there was no fog near her, and that her road wasn’t icy, I decided to apply Rule 5 – again – and get on with it.  It was the first outing of the year for the base layer and the Buff over head/ears – a sign of things to come no doubt.

I had a very small window of opportunity indeed this morning, and was therefore layered up and champing at the bit by the time Mim arrived, only a little late.  I’d left the route to her, and we ended up doing a fairly similar route to mine on Wednesday.  I didn’t bore you with it then, and I shan’t bore you with it now either.  Instead you can have a photo showing the view from up by the Webbington as we set out.

Brent Knoll rises through the mist

Sadly that was the best of the weather.  After enjoying the sunshine up there, it wasn’t long before the sun decided to hide behind a veil of grey cloud, and the temperature dropped yet further.  Even wrapped up warm, the cold crept inexorably inwards, leading to another first after our ride – that moment when your toes hit hot water in the shower and it hurts.  However as training rides go, I imagine it was fairly good.  Mim was away and there was clearly no way I was going to be allowed to get ahead today, so I had to put some work into keeping up.  Well, it’s one way to keep warm, right?  We even went over Brent Knoll and up Mudgeley Hill just to add a little spice to life, so it wasn’t all flat either :).

Cycling time: 1:45:28 hrs
Distance: 28.76 miles.
Avs: 16.3 mph
ODO: 11244 miles

Yet again I have broken my two hour rule, but hey, you can’t always get what you want.  I got a ride, and that’s the important thing.  That and getting back in time to get on with getting on with the things I needed to be doing.  The ACG are out tomorrow morning anyway, so I can make up for it then :).

A picture may well paint a thousand words, but it’s very hard to take a photo that can convey wide open landscapes and low autumn sunshine.  Well, it’s very hard for me anyway.  I was willing to give it a go, but was thwarted by an unexpected lack of batteries.  Oops.  Luckily for you my Crackberry has a camera.  Not as good as the real thing, but not bad.

I could tell you about my route, but you’ll have heard it all before, since I’ve cycled it all before, many times.  To be fair, I’ve spent so much time lately trying to not do my usual routes that it’s been a while since I’ve done it.  There is also something to be said for knowing exactly where you’re going and how long it will take, especially when you have other places to be later on and don’t need to be adding uncertainty to your day.  Besides which, it’s nice out there on the Levels :).

So.  Today we shall talk about animals.  About herons playing “you can’t see me” until they reluctantly take flight as you get too close.  Starlings in their multitudes, murmuring around the fields feeding to build up energy for their evening performance.  The buzzard in the tree above you that doesn’t bother flying away, secure in the knowledge that you can’t get up to where he is, and even if you could by the time you got there he’d be long gone.

Half way around the Levels I had an enforced break.  Enforced by cows.  As a landrover passed me going the other way, I noticed the driver was busy looking over his shoulder.  I looked ahead, and noticed a large herd of the black and white variety heading towards me.  Been here before.  Which can be messy.  And a tad disconcerting.  Cows are more dangerous than you’d think, not to mention being exceptionally stupid, and I prefer to steer well clear, so I pulled over to the next field entrance, parked the bike by the gate, and sat on it.  The gate, not the bike.  Very comical.  Cows to the left of me, cows to the right, and there I was, stuck in the middle with you.  Well, thinking of you, dear reader.  I pulled out my phone, and took photos to capture the moment so that you could admire the cows too.  Wasn’t that nice of me? 😉

cows approach - see the low sun?

cows to the right of me

cows to the left of me

gert lush cows 🙂

Come to think of it the red cows were even on the port side.  How very apt.  I was between a rock and hard place for a while, and was quite glad of my lofty position as the bull and his entourage fancied paying me rather more attention than I was comfortable with.  After some yelling, tooting, and whistling from either end of the cow convoy, they moved on.  As they passed, the farmer and I exchanged greetings, which was nice, since I’d afforded him a considerable degree of amusement by perching up there.

Break over, and I was back on my way home.  I came over Mudgeley Hill, and added the Nyland loop.  More animals.  The two little dogs running free down the road and yapping at my wheels.  The owner chasing after them apologised, and explained they were rescue dogs that she was unsuccessfully trying to train.  May I suggest a lead would work wonders?!  Then there was the mighty fine Nyland Farm turkey basking in the sun by the side of the road, whose days must surely be numbered…

I took the main road back into Cheddar which, thanks to today’s strikes closing the local schools, was as busy as a Saturday, and full of children. Who aren’t animals, though they do occasionally flock together in similar fashion.  There were hordes of them, if not herds… ;).  Time to get home as fast as I could, just for fun…

Cycling time: 2:01:19 hrs
Distance: 33.41 miles.
Avs: 16.5 mph
ODO: 11215 miles

I christened my lovely new winter jacket, which is indeed very lovely as it kept me warm yet wicked all that icky sweat away nicely so I didn’t feel overheated.  I drank Torq all the way ’round.  I kept my effort level pretty consistent, and didn’t slack off, even in the face of some rather annoying wind.  It was, all in all, a perfectly satisfactory ride.  In the sun.  Can’t be bad. 🙂

So time to ride again.  It looked a mite chilly out there first thing this morning, so what better time to try out my new jersey?  Did I not mention I had a new jersey?  Ah – time to explain then.  See, I am becoming a massive Rapha convert.  However I have yet to win the lottery so my meagre collection only extends as far as my Etape jersey, which clearly I had to have and which started me off, and a t-shirt that was a gift from the people behind sportive.com for the possible inclusion of my Etape blog on their website.  Both of them are very, very, lovely.  Which led me to thinking that maybe I’d like some more.

Now in the absence of disposable funds, this clearly means investigating other avenues, staring with ebay.  Unsurprisingly I am not the only person to have considered this, and competition for those few Rapha items there is fierce, with the prices getting out of my reach fairly quickly.  Time for Plan B.  Having the odd contact out there, I approached the twitterverse, and a nice lady from Condor who I met at the Cyclosport party.  Amazingly it turns out she had a nearly new men’s long sleeve jersey going spare, that she very kindly offered to post to me.  I can’t tell you how excited I was, and probably shouldn’t anyway since it is without doubt sad to get that excited about new cycling kit *grin*.  To gild the lily, when it arrived it fitted me perfectly.  How fabulous is that?

my "new" rapha jersey

Having tried it on and marvelled at the fit, comfort, and so on, I was dying to get an opportunity to wear it, and the degree of perceived chill out there this morning provided the perfect excuse.  There, have I explained myself?  Now all I need is for it to get cold enough out there for me to get the new winter jacket out.  Not Rapha but also very lovely :).

Which, dear reader, sees me heading out at 9:00am ish, clad in the aforementioned jersey plus gilet, on my way to pick up George at her place again.  Deja vu?  In consideration of George’s handicap I was thinking we’d probably stick to the flat, so I threw in Notting Hill again on the way there, just to scratch my hill itch.  I was right, and we did indeed stick to the flat.  Back down the way I’d come, out via the Webbington, around Brent Knoll, to Burnham, back through Mark and, in my case, home via the Nyland loop.

For some reason I was finding it hard work today.  George is back to her usual inexorable speed on the flat, but I resisted the temptation to drop back and made myself stick alongside her and chat as usual.  But it still shouldn’t have been as hard as it was.  There was quite a bit of wind around from time to time, and never in our favour, which possibly didn’t help.  I was also much thirstier than usual, which was weird.  Excuses excuses.

Cycling time: 2:15:06 hrs
Distance: 36.28 miles.
Avs: 16.0 mph
ODO: 11150 miles

I got home, got off the bike, and instantly realised I was a complete wreck!  Totally wiped out.  Judging by my inability to use my hands properly, or my brain for that matter, I think I’d possibly become a lot colder than I realised, even in my snug and immensely comfortable jersey.  Just not enough layers?  I didn’t feel cold when I was out there, but I’ve made this mistake before.  You’re supposed to learn from your mistakes, right? 😉  Ever since then, even having had a restorative nap, I’ve been feeling a bit like a lethargic zombie.

Thursday.  I never could get the hang of Thursdays…

Regular readers may be aware of the fact that I gave up drinking to train for the Etape, and I’ve never really gone back to it.  I don’t abstain completely though, and have the occasional weekend off.  This weekend was one of them, up to and including a few glasses of white wine at the pub after Town Council last night.  I should therefore have been feeling fairly ropey this morning and I woke up fully expecting to pay the price for my over-indulgence.  But after a cup of coffee and some tentative engagement with the world, it turned out that I was fine.  Result!  My husband was not feeling quite so blessed, as his text upon arrival at work informed me.  I got to tell him how good I was feeling, he got to tell me there’s no justice in the world *grin*.

There is however a world of difference between feeling good sitting in bed drinking coffee and feeling good out there riding the bike, so I wasn’t yet counting any chickens.  Mim had proposed a 3 hour ride with the Old Bristol Road hill and a coffee stop, and considering the speed she can go at, that could have been two challenges too far.  She was late getting to my house, which is just as well as it gave me time to drink more coffee and to get some work done before we left.  Outside the weather was foggy, but warm, with hints of potential around the edges. I was getting too hot just walking around the house in my many layers, so opted to pare things down to short sleeve jersey, arms, and gilet, which worked out fine on Saturday, and as it turned out, was the right choice today too.

We left at 9:30am or thereabouts and since, as it turns out, we were going to meet a couple of other cyclists on the Wells – Wedmore road, that was where we headed.  No wind, as warm as expected, with wet roads. Fairly pleasant really.  I will admit that the first 20 minutes or so weren’t all that pleasant as we warmed up, but not much worse than usual and apparently there really is no justice, as I was feeling fine in no time.  We met up with Brian and Mike as arranged, and after the usual cyclist’s “where shall we go and how?” faff, at which point the gilet came off, we headed off again.  At this time of year it’s kinda better to stick to the more major roads, as the littler ones are covered in crap – frequently literally – and aren’t a whole heap of fun.  We went straight from Wedmore to Wells, in watery sunshine, chatting away and not going too fast.  Since our proposed coffee stop was over near Chew Valley lake there was the small matter of the Mendips to get over.  Having done the Old Bristol Road on Saturday, we decided to go straight up the A39 Bristol Hill.  Brian and Mim may have dropped me, but by the top I really wasn’t far behind, and I wasn’t the last up there either.  Having suffered going up here in the past I kept expecting it to get worse, and it just never did!  In fact it was a nice slow steady climb all the way to the top.  My kind of hill :).

We then got the blissful hurtle and descent down into Chew Mendip, where Mike peeled off and we turned left towards Litton and our coffee stop.  Gotta love a good long straight descent :D.  I was totally back in my happy zone now, and really enjoying myself, even when I wasn’t going downhill.  We took a nasty mucky little detour to cut the corner to coffee, leaving me grateful not to have washed the bike before I went out, yet guaranteeing that I was going to have to wash it when I got back.  Ah well.  Coffee was lovely and just what I needed, although considering the state we were in I think we horrified some of the more civilised clientele!   There were many options discussed for getting home, from the contour detours to keep it flat, to the nastiest of hills, and I opted for the East Harptree option.  Having descended it on Saturday I quite fancied doing it the other way, even if it was hard work last time I did it, with the ACG.  OK, so it wasn’t easy but, again, I kept expecting it to be proper horrible and it just wasn’t.  Maybe, just maybe, I’m getting better at this?  *grin*.  From there, having been out a couple of hours already, we came straight home across the top and down Cheddar Gorge, which also went well.  It would appear that today was a good day at the office :).

We parted company in Cheddar, and I headed for home in the usual fashion – fast down the bypass.  According to bikely which it would appear is more accurate for such things than bikeroutetoaster, that’s c. 2380 ft of climbing.  GB did Saturday’s route on Sunday and discovered my 2800ft climbing as estimated by the latter was actually 3800ft – which doesn’t surprise me as it felt like a lot of climbing!  So that’s plenty of climbing then, and quite a bit today.  I feel the need to keep doing hills to keep proving to myself that I can do them, and today I could :).

Cycling time: 2:29:10 hrs
Distance: 39.40 miles.
Avs: 15.8 mph
ODO: 11114 miles

There was no avoiding it, my bike had to be cleaned.  Muck and dirt in many layers were fairly swiftly dealt with by Muc-off as ever, but it still took quite a while to get the bike looking presentable again, and it took nearly as long to do the same for me.  White jersey, rolled up arms, no mudguards = splatter fest *grin*.

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