Category Archives: Events

Events I have done, or plan on doing…or…whatever!

Bristol Belter 2015

So that was “summer”. Hm. It would appear to be September already. The mob are back at school. So, typically, the weather last week was pretty good, if not that warm. I rode up hills with Alan, and went for coffee with George. But I didn’t have much to do last weekend, other than doing my civic duty opening the Somerset Showcase on Saturday. An weekend devoid of riding, people, things to do, with a reasonable weather forecast. Sad face, etc…

Cycling time: 4:12
Distance: 61.1 miles
ODO: 10919.0 miles

Hello Thursday night. A meeting and a few drinks later. A sofa and a laptop. Tipsy internet shopping? No. Well, ok, yes, actually I did do that. A girl can never have enough frocks, right? But I also pinged off an email and got me a press place to do the Bristol Belter on Sunday *grin*. With nothing better to do I might as well be riding the bike, or maybe riding the bike is better than doing nothing.

So, civic duties done on Saturday, I cooked myself scallops and trout for tea, thanks to the Farmers’ Market part of the day, and got an early night. I even managed to sleep better than usual, which made the early alarm call somewhat less objectionable than usual. Though it’s still not exactly pleasant to wake up in the dark…daylight, daylight, wherefore wert thou? But when it did make an appearance it was clear, and bright, and full of promise. It was also blinding as I drove into the sunrise all the way to HQ at The Fry Club in Keynsham, which made driving interesting!

The car park wasn’t large, and it was still fairly empty. Not a lot of riders expected? It was probably more due to the way the event is/was structured. The Belter has three routes. Short – c.44 miles. Medium – c.63 miles. Long – c.100 miles. Both the Short and Medium routes head south to the Mendips. But the Long route starts with a 37 mile loop around the Cotswolds back to HQ before doing the Medium’s 63 miles. So only the long route riders were the ones daft enough to get there for the 7:00am start, what with that first hour’s start slot being reserved for Long Belters. The other routes got a lie-in – lucky s*ds 😉

So HQ was sparsely populated. Having faffed in the freezing sunshine and put on all the layers I had with me, there were no queues for anything – neither registration, the toilets, or to leave. Riders were leaving as and when they were ready, so I was one of just three when my ‘group’ was briefed and let go at around 7:30am. Bye bye HQ, and very shortly bye bye fingers, bye bye feet! Yes it was sunny, yes there wasn’t much wind. But me oh my, it was cold!

It was odd out there. It was very early. The sun was, though rising, still very low, and casting exceedingly long shadows. It was either very bright or very dark. Chiaroscuro. After a stretch of cycle path, the roads were deathly quiet. As was the world really. It all felt a bit unreal, or maybe even surreal. Like I was just aimlessly cycling around waiting for the day to actually begin and it hadn’t yet. It was also a bit worrying. What with the sun being so low and in front of me it would be blinding any motorists coming up behind me…so it’s a good thing the residents of the Cotswolds hadn’t really woken up yet. Furthermore, what with the signs for the long route being black arrows on a red background, they really didn’t stand out, and spotting them in the shadows was a bit tricky, so I was worried I’d miss one and get lost…

It was very pretty out there though. And, as I’ve mentioned, very very cold. I was almost grateful for the fact that, in dribs and drabs and then one biggish hill, we were going up in the world, as it at least generated some internal heat! Up on the top there, there were views over to the Severn Bridges and beyond, fields of gold with straw bales dotted around, blue skies, green hedges, and even a hot air balloon in the distance. All very idyllic. As was the cutesy chocolate box village of Castle Combe which the route then went down to, and which marked the turning point of this loop. What could have been a nice descent wasn’t as, being in a wood, it was just too dark to see the dodgy road surface. Still like I said, the village was pretty, and the climbing back out again wasn’t too bad. Time to head back to HQ, with the sun behind me and no longer in my eyes, making it even easier to enjoy the scenery.

In an ideal world I’d have warmed up by now and, being back at HQ which was also serving as a food stop, I could have stashed my superfluous layers in the car. Sadly I still couldn’t feel my feet so that wasn’t going to happen! I did nip to the toilet and grab a bit of flapjack before heading off for the Mendips loop though; this time following white arrows on red which stood out a bit more.

There turned out to be rather more climbing today than I’d expected. And it wasn’t obvious either, various and numerous climbs lurked amongst the country lanes and under trees. Deceptive. And slow. Scenic though, I even got to ride under a viaduct! I gave in to the inevitable and accepted that today’s ride was going to take me a long time, and that I should stop fretting about it. Well, I really didn’t have anything better to be doing, and I was riding my bike in the sunshine so…time to sit back, enjoy, chill out, etc. Actually, less of the chilling, things were finally starting to get warmer. At 11:17am precisely I realised I could feel my feet again, which cheered me up no end! 🙂

I was heading for the very familiar but in the meantime all the back country lanes had me feeling a bit in the middle of nowhere, and a bit lost, and at one point actually lost. Somewhere before Chew Magna I climbed up a gritty muddy hill to a t-junction and…nowt. No sign. Hm. So I went back down the hill to find a few other riders riding up it. So I went back up with them. More climbing is good, right? Still no sign at the top though. Cue much consulting of maps and gadgets, before resorting to some semi-educated guessing! We went left and hoped for the best. Which worked. Judging by how the next sign we saw was displayed we should have been approaching it from a different direction, but hey, at least we were back on the route.

From here on in I was going to be on home territory for a while so although I’d lost confidence in the signage somewhat, I knew I couldn’t actually get lost, which was nice. After a steepish climb up to Hinton Blewitt, and some more wiggling, I popped out on the road to Litton and prepared myself for the long climb from Chewton Mendip to the top of the Mendips. Which, at the top of the nicer way up there, up the delightfully named Torhole Bottom, is where the next food stop was. Not that there was much food left. It was staffed by army cadets of some sort. Rather more of them than you’d have thought necessary, who were larking about rather more than necessary. One of them topped up my water bottle though, whilst another counted the remaining bananas. All 18 of them. Make that 17 after I’d grabbed one and eaten half, having decided to take a seat for a few minutes in the sun and take a little time out, in keeping with the enjoying it spirit.

Right then. Time to head for Priddy, and the descent to Westbury. Which I do like. Especially on my own. Here however signage once again let me down. Apparently I missed a sign to turn left on the way down. Didn’t even see it. Possibly because I was trying to avoid a u-turning MX5 at the time, or because at the speed I go down there at I need to be concentrating on the road surface ahead.. Either way, I missed it. So having had much fun flying downhill, I ended up at the bottom, at the junction with the Wells road, with no signs to be seen. Well more climbing may be good, but I certainly wasn’t going to climb all the way back up that particular hill just to see where I’d gone wrong – it’s a killer hill! But I wasn’t lost per se, as I knew exactly where I was, I just wasn’t where I was supposed to be. Having seen some of the route signs the day before when out and about, I knew where I could pick it up again, so rather than try and figure out where the route had actually gone, I cut across to Cocklake instead. Ok, so I missed out a few miles looping through Easton and Theale and Wedmore, but I didn’t miss any hills out, and I cycle through there at least once a week, so I figured I wasn’t missing out on anything much.

Back on route, en route to Cheddar Gorge then. Having made my short cut I had managed to get ahead a bit and actually found myself with quite a few other riders for a bit. Two of whom turned out to be Jon and Guy. Jon was actually on the ride, Guy was just along for some of the ride. I only realised it was him when I recognised his as the voice of the rider apologising to the driver of the car that he’d just rear-ended…*grin*. No harm done though. Guy was actually supposed to be on a recovery ride and keeping his heart rate down to whatever b.p.m. This didn’t stop either him or Jon from leaving me for dust up the Gorge as usual though! Ah well 🙂 I did actually overtake some riders in my turn, wiggling my way up beneath the cliffs and through the shadows. The Gorge was a tad busy, plenty of cars, riders, grockles and sheep that look like goats, but we all seemed to be getting on amicably enough, even around Horseshoe Bend which I always go up in the middle of the road. The cars behind me didn’t seem to mind today, and I waved them thankfully by once I was done. And soon Cheddar Gorge was done too, and I was back up on the top of the Mendips again, basking in the sunshine, and chatting to Guy and Jon who were at the third food stop here.

It’s good to talk, right? Especially as a lot of today’s riding was just me. Normally it’s not until later on a sportive that I end up on my own, after the shorter routes have headed for home and left me out there. This one works the other way around. There’s always fewer riders doing whatever long route it is, and having been set off the way we were, us few were pretty well spread out. And then later in the day on the other loop, all those shorter route riders were so far ahead that I never saw much of them either! This also means the food stops later in the ride have been pretty thoroughly ravaged. I think it might work out better the other way around – Mendips then Cotswolds?

Right then, time to get back to it. Having earnt a decent descent I was disappointed to be given the narrow wiggly gravely one to Compton Martin which was not at all fun. *sulk*. Still, at least I was on the home stretch now, and going pretty well, even if that home stretch did turn out to contain a couple of nasty hills, one around Nempnett Thrubwell and one really steep kicker at Norton Malreward which I was actually quite proud of myself for not walking up – it hurt! (By the way, have you noticed what cool place names we have here in Somerset?) That last final up also meant it was pretty much downhill from there for the last five miles or so back to HQ – always the best way for a sportive to end IMNSHO 😀

Finally my Bristol Belter was done, albeit a slighter shorter Belter than it should have been *grin*. I was rewarded for my efforts with a rather nice Bristol Belter mug – which is far more use than a medal and far more interesting than a water bottle. As it turns out, it was a very nice way to spend my Sunday after all 🙂

Cycling time: 6:49
Distance: 93.4 miles
Avg: 13.7 mph
ODO: 11012.4 miles

Severn Bridge Sportive 2015

here I come Bridge

I have a bit of a thing about cycling over the old Severn Crossing. I like it. A lot. And it’s a fair bet that a sportive called the “Severn Bridge Sportive” involves that, right? Bit of a no-brainer really. I also have a tendency to repeat sportives that I’ve enjoyed before. This one I did in 2013. In June. In glorious sunshine. This year’s edition was in August. On the Bank Holiday weekend. So guessing what the weather was going to be like was also a bit of a no-brainer…

Yep, I love waking up in the dark, after a truly disastrous night’s sleep, to the sound of rain on the conservatory roof, and the forecast of much more to come *sigh*. I came this close to rolling over and going back to sleep, but since I was due to be reviewing it my sense of obligation and my conscience kicked me up and out of bed. Man, I have to learn to get rid of those two pesky things! 😉

Which brings us, after a damp and dreary drive, to HQ at Castle Coombe Circuit. I was on the early side and was marshalled to park up at the nearer end of the parking, passing many walking riders heading off to register in the chilly rain. I wasn’t going to do that. I knew better. I knew that it’s further than you think. And I figured the best thing was to sit in the back of my car, faff, get sorted, and kill time so that I could ride to registration, use the facilities, and then not have to loiter around in the rain for too long before start time came. Moisture minimisation. So there I sat, peering out, watching riders walking to and fro’ while it rained, and rained, rained heavier, rained lighter, but always rained. Ah well, at least it was easy to decide on layers. S*d the gilet, it was definitely an armwarmers and waterproof day. Let’s face it, with the autumnal temperatures, boil-in-bag wasn’t likely to be an issue. Hey, on the upside, at least it wasn’t windy for a change!

Time passed, and finally it was time. I clambered out the back of the car, clambered on to the bike, and rode off to register. Luckily registration was indoors. Riders were sheltering wherever dry was, and there may even have been an element of huddling together for warmth! I signed in, got my number (322), ties, and helmet timing chip, and went back into the ‘orrible outdoors to fix them where they needed to be. Whilst waiting outside I bumped into Herbie and his Mrs, and we chatted for a while, friendly faces always being a good thing, before taking our places in the start line. I think we were in the second group away, but a bit far back in it so I couldn’t really hear the briefing – maybe a mic would have been useful – but I caught the odd salient point and saw the signs I would be following, before we were on our way.

The route starts with half a lap of the race circuit which, though smooth and flat and therefore probably lovely normally, seems to have decided drainage is not necessary and that standing water is a good thing. Water was coming down, coming up…and my ar*e was soaked even before we left the circuit. Ick! I’d meant to cycle with Herbie for a while but all that cold and wet going on meant I needed to get going on and warm up a bit so I left them behind and headed off. As we exited the circuit onto a muddy country lane, one poor sod was already fixing a puncture. I’m fairly sure that today, if that had happened to me, I’d just have walked back around the circuit, loaded the car up, and gone home!

Off we go then. There’s a distinct lack of photos today, mostly due to the weather. But also to the fact that we’ve all seen damp English country lanes before! What scenery there was en-route to the bridge would probably have looked lovely on a different day but today it just all seemed a little grey and dismal and uneventful. It’s amazing what a difference weather makes to a place, and when you’re busy looking down and watching where you’re riding, you’re not really looking at the view anyway.

So… It was a ride of four hours. One very wet one, one wet one, one mostly dry one, one wet one. Or maybe it was a ride of three parts. One ride out. One bridge aller et retour. One ride back.

Because today I did the short route. I like Welsh hills. I liked the long route when I did it before. But today 40 miles of wet Welsh hills just didn’t appeal. I can do them any time and, in fact, have already done that several times this year. So I rode a fairly flat 33 miles just to ride over the bridge, grab some yummy apple pie, ride back over the bridge, and ride 33 miles back again. Which made this a fairly easy, vaguely miserable, slightly boring ride. I know, I’m weird, how can riding a bike be boring? But without lots of up there isn’t lots of down. It’s just fairly constant pushing, slowed down by puddles, potholes, and mud! Maybe I should have done the extra forty mile hilly loop after all?!

But, and there’s a big but, it was totally worth it. Why? Because thanks to coinciding with the Severn Bridge Half Marathon and presumably some hefty behind the scenes negotiating, the old Severn Bridge was closed. Totally closed. As in the only traffic to be crossing it between 7:00am and 13:00pm was us. Cyclists. How cool is that?! Very, since you asked. How many people can say they’ve done that? Well, around 300 or so probably, depending how many no-shows there were, but still, bet you haven’t! It totally made my day :D.

You can’t blame an event for the weather though. This was not a bad event by any means, it just suffered from bad weather. There were a lot of positives. Good signage, all bar the odd bit when I’d been on my own for a while and was convinced I was lost and could have used a reminder. The marshals and staff were friendly and helpful. The food stop (used twice on the long route) was great, well supplied with hot drinks, savoury and sweet food (I mentioned the apple pie, right?), water and energy drink, and being in a community centre, it also had toilets.

Mind you, the short route – being essentially out there and back again – involved a little too much repeating for my liking, and the section around what I think was Yate on the way back in the rain involved far too many roundabouts, traffic, and traffic lights to slow me down when I was in push for home mode. And I did push. After a drier hour around the bridge, on the way back the rain came back. I’d had enough, and I wasn’t taking any prisoners – I was over-taking them all! Well, it was pretty flat 😉 Which would make it a great route for people who don’t like hills, who aren’t race snakes, who fancy a nice day out in the countryside, or for novices. The 100 mile route has more to challenge and more to see, and those hills in the middle would break up the flat out and back nicely. Maybe next year? 🙂

After 66 miles I was back on the soaking circuit again and sort of sprinting for the Finish arch, where I was soon collecting my goody bag, and then declining the free pasta. That done, I had a chat to Andy Cook who runs the event and who seemed remarkably sanguine given the weather that had happened to his event and no doubt cast somewhat of a pall over the Family Cycling Day element of the day. Still, it’s the English weather, what can you do? There were still various undeterred small people cycling around the track with their parents and clearly having fun doing so 🙂 Chatting done, and since I was soaked through and getting cold, it was time to head back to the car, reverse the faffing process, and go home. Back home, down the rainy motorway, with the heating on! Bye bye summer… 🙁

Cycling time: 4:11
Distance: 66.5 miles
Avg: 15.9 mph
ODO: 10857.9 miles

By the way the day did have another highlight. On the way back, as I closed in on another rider, and passed a farm on the left hand side, there frolicking on the drive, were two very cute small kittens. One of which ran off, while the other sat and watched, all black and white and wide-eyed as I passed. Aw, how adorable. It definitely made me smile. In fact, as I informed the somewhat bemused rider I was now passing, I think all sportives should include kittens 😉 *grin*.

Great Weston Ride 2015

I could tell you about the ride I did with Alan on Wednesday that didn’t go according to plan because rain stopped play. I could also tell you about the solitary seaside loop I did yesterday. But you don’t want to know about those. You want to know about the Great Weston Ride that I did last Sunday, right? Which is by way of being a rhetorical question, because I’m going to tell you about it regardless of your response. Every English woman must do her duty 😉

Right then. Welcome to the Great Weston Ride. My sixth I believe. And since it was also its sixth, that means I’ve done ’em all. It is by way of being a tradition, which has several elements to it, though not all of them were present this time around.

First of all, for starters, we, whoever we are, ride from our various homes to the start. This is usually Guy, sometimes Clayton, and always me. Sadly Guy was unable to join us this year, having worn himself out on yet another long audax the day before. When shall we three meet again? Next year maybe? So then there were two. Clayton and I met a little before 7:00am at Shute Shelve, as ever, and headed off, minus our usual guiding light…which probably explains why, in the absence of his commuting expertise, we managed to get somewhat lost and turn an 18 mile route into a 22 mile route. But hey, the roads were quiet, it was dry and mild, and we still got to where we had to be in time, mainly because that little before 7:00am had given us a little leeway!

And where did we have to be? Why Long Ashton Park & Ride of course. For the second element, the main course, the main event, the GWR itself. I think in previous years we’ve aimed to get there earlier, this time around it was already busy, full of riders and families and cars and bikes. Alan was due to meet us there, but as there was as yet no sign of him, we headed off to sign in. On my way I bumped into Andy and his mates James and Lee, who’d also done the Ride Like A Pro the day before, which was nice – always good to see a friendly face or three! The alphabetised queues for registration were clearly marked, but for some reason mine seemed to be the longest, and queuing took quite a while. Clayton had it much easier! As I stood there on my own, slowly shuffling forwards, one of the guys popped over to say that if I was riding on my own I was more than welcome to join them, though I seriously doubt I’d have been able to keep up with ’em. Luckily, thanks to the company I was already keeping, I didn’t need to find that out for sure! It was a very nice gesture though – thanks guys 🙂

Finally it was my turn at the front, and I was given my number, two (rather short) cable ties, and a card with contact details, told to help myself to free 9Bars, and sent on my way. I found my way back to Clayton, fiddled the number on to the bike, and joined the queue for the Ladies – which just goes to show that there were quite a lot of women riders for a change 🙂 By the time I emerged again we still hadn’t located Alan, who was failing to answer his ‘phone, but luckily I spotted him loitering with intent, and hailed him over. Voice like a parade ground sergeant me 😉 Right then, back to being three, if not the same three as usual, right?

Let’s make a little detour here. Although the GWR is, as we have established, a tradition, this year’s route could be different. I say could be, not would be, because although the usual 56 mile route remained, the organisers (hi Darren!) had added three optional little detours to it to add both miles and hills. I’d like to say I was dying to try them out, chomping at the bit, etc…but you know what? I’m essentially lazy *grin*. However if I wasn’t local and didn’t know all the extra bits already I probably would have done. Or not 😉 My real excuse du jour? Tradition is tradition, tradition is not to be messed with, and the traditional route is 56 miles 🙂

Right then. Route decided upon. Time to join the groups lining up for the start. The two motorcycle medics were watching on as Darren gave us our rider briefing, showed us the signage, and told us to be careful going down the hill after Priddy. After six years he can probably recite it in his sleep 😉 So, forewarned and forearmed, off we went. I know better than to hurtle off though, you always get instantly stopped by the traffic lights at the entrance and then another set after that before you get to head off through Long Ashton – and this year was no exception 🙂

Wasn’t I here yesterday? Ah yes, so I was. Déja vù! This time we may have been going a little slower though – it’s not a race, right? The road through Long Ashton rolls a bit, has lots of parked cars, and a seriously dubious road surface. However the section afterwards is lovely fast and flat, so we got to overtake a fair few, which is always fun. Which is also something that happened on and off all day. This is more of a charity ride than a sportive, there’s no timing, and there’s a whole range of riders out there to enjoy the day out, not just the usual race snakes and testosterone fuelled pelotons. Which apart from meaning I can overtake folk also means it’s got a really nice friendly atmosphere. People chat en passant, families wait by the side of the road to cheer on their rider(s); it’s all quite refreshing 🙂

Where to go from here? Through Barrow Gurney where we stopped briefly to stash layers and lost Clayton who was ahead and didn’t realise we were no longer behind him, and out t’other side. Then up to the traffic lights and then up, literally, the A38, briefly. Not briefly enough really as it’s a fast road, and the traffic using it desperately has to be somewhere else and has to go past you at speed to get there. OK, so we weren’t on it for long at all, distance wise, but the drag up made it take longer than it would have done otherwise, overtaking slower riders was tricky, and it was nice to turn left off it and head east through Winford. Admittedly this was also nice because I knew the next section, all bar a couple of little ups, was downhill and fun, and it was and it was 🙂

I appear to have forgotten to mention that despite the relative warmth and sunshine, it was still really windy out there. When isn’t it these days? And of course it was a headwind. *sigh*. This became even more apparently heading south across the valley and past Chew Valley Lake. Pretty yes, but pretty hard work! Somewhere around here we passed Clayton waiting by a gate, and stopped to pick him up – he’d thought he was following Alan the entire time, even though his ‘Alan’ had different kit and a different bike! 😉

Time to head for the big climb of the day. I’m not a fan of the stretch of the road going from Compton Martin to Blagdon. It’s more up than down, with a couple of nasty draggy ups, and that slow sort of big grain porridgy road surface. Having said that, I’ve definitely struggled more with it on other rides than I did today. Although we split up from time to time, going up inevitably, we re-grouped on the downs and flats, i.e. the bits I can do! 😉 Those weren’t the ups of the day though. Nah. Today’s big climb was Burrington Combe, not to be tackled however until we’d stopped at the water stop at the bottom and had a bit of a regroup and refresh first. I wasn’t in any rush to get up it, and when it came to it, I didn’t rush getting up it either – unlike Alan and Clayton who left me in their wakes so as to wait for me at the top. I still got to overtake some though, and I quite enjoyed pottering up there again. I might have been faster without the wind all day, and without the day before’s miles in my legs, but I was feeling ok, and that was fine by me 🙂

Big climb done. Time to play with the wind across the top of the Mendips, and have a bit of fun doing some speed. I like it up there, even today when it got a bit cloudy and drizzled briefly 🙂 I also like the descent to Westbury sub Mendip. Well, I usually do. I like it less when surrounded by lots of other riders who don’t know it as well as I do. It’s fairly steep, narrow in places, wiggly…and there’s often traffic of the motor vehicle variety going both up and down. Which it’s another good reason, if one were needed, why it was good that the earlier drizzle was only brief and didn’t turn into rain – it’s proper ‘oribble in the wet! I’ve been known to kick ass going down here on a good day, but not today. Today I actually practiced some restraint. Which is just as well as near the bottom on a narrow wiggly section, at speed, we had to squeak past a Land Rover coming the other way. There’s no way we’d have been able to stop…just as well we didn’t have to!

After a bit more restrained fun we reached the junction at the bottom where the marshal duly assisted us all across the main road when it was safe to do so. A bit more down brought us to Rodney Stoke where, later in the day, various fête type things were due to be happening and we’d been asked to roll through it in neutralised zone fashion. We were there well in advance of those but we still did as we were told, before heading across the flat back country lanes to Cocklake. We do what we’re told you know. We even stopped for traffic lights ‘n everything 😉

We were fairly motivated by now, because the infamous food stop is at Wedmore, just a couple of miles down the road. And it was just as good as ever. Free coffee/tea/squash, and with a large range of cakes on offer, as well as bacon rolls. Not free but not expensive either, and although I don’t do eating, Alan and Clayton do. A large slice of sticky chocolate cake and a generous bacon roll respectively, both of which were apparently lovely 🙂 The only fly in the ointment was the wasp that wouldn’t leave my squash alone! So I dumped both and headed to the school toilets, which always make me giggle because they’re ickle for ickle people *grin*.

We couldn’t stand around eating all day though. Time to get going, with 18 miles or so to go and no big hills. As we headed down the ‘mother-in-law’ road from Wedmore to Highbridge (so-called because it goes on and on…) the sun came properly back out again too. Well the sun should always shine at the seaside right? Which, with Highbridge, Burnham-on-Sea, and Weston-super-Mare ahead of us, is where the rest of the ride was. Burnham wasn’t as busy as usual which was a blessing. As we passed what passes for the pier, a large group of ladies and daughters applauded me. Yes, just me, I was a way back from the boys at this point trying to take photos. I think it was a female solidarity thing – and very smile inducing it was too 🙂 By now the wind, which had been more southerly than westerly, could have been expected to be behind us and helpful and blissful and….nah, don’t be daft…it had veered around to be properly westerly and no use to man nor beast! T’was ever the way…*grin*.

We stuck together for the last flat section, took turns at the front, and dragged our average speed up a bit while enjoying the sunshine. Past the 10 miles to go sign, the 5 miles to go…up the A38, through Uphill, and then we were on the final stretch down the main seafront to the Finish on the lawns there. There was a lovely reception awaiting us as we crossed the line, complete with applause and cowbells, and smiley faced girls handing out medals and food tokens. Told you it was friendly, right? Once again the Great Weston Ride was done 🙂

Cycling time: 3:42
Distance: 55.9 miles
Avg: 15.1 mph
ODO: 10493.3 miles

Time for some R’n’R then. Those food tokens entitled you to a free burger/sausage/falafel wrap from The Cowshed. But who eats first? Priorities…! Clayton disappeared like a shot towards the beer tent as I had a brief chat to Darren, and I joined him just in time to be presented with a pint of cold lager – bliss 🙂 Alan went off in search of their food, and I made some small boy’s day by giving him my token and thus a free burger. Positive karma has to be a good thing 🙂 We all sat on the lawn in the sun, played the debrief game, and drank that positively lovely lager, surrounded by lots of others doing the same. The boys had a couple of pints or three, I stuck to just 1 and 1/2 before we headed off for the ride home, even given considerable peer pressure!…

…which I possibly paid for. This was the final element, dessert presumably, aka riding back home again. Damn that tradition stuff! OK, so it was only 10 miles back for me, and actually this probably had more to do with two days’ riding in a row and not having eaten enough, but I felt properly and increasingly weird on the way back. I’m very glad it wasn’t any further! I was very pleased to get home, get off the bike, and spend some serious sofa time so as to get it together enough to have a shower. I know, girly lightweight 😉 Still, two lovely days out on the bike…there are definitely worse ways to spend a weekend 🙂

Ride Like A Pro 2015

After a quick evening spin on Thursday, and a rest day on Friday, my cycling weekend had arrived. I did the Jaguar Ride Like A Pro last year, and I have to admit I hadn’t seriously been considering doing it again, but when they got in touch and asked if I’d like to do it again? Well, I’m a sucker for an invitation. To be honest, I did mentally debate it for a while, what with the Great Weston Ride the following day, but this year’s Ride Like A Pro was only due to be 48 miles, and I’ve ridden two days in a row before, and did I mention they invited me? Yeah, done deal 🙂 I signed on the dotted line, aka the on-line registration form, and the die was cast.

Of course the fact that I didn’t have to be in Bristol until 10:00am was definitely in its favour. So all I had to do this Saturday was get up at a reasonable hour, sling on summer kit because the weather was nice, throw (well, not literally) the bike in the back of the car and head North. Result 🙂

Which brought me to Hartwell Bristol Jaguar, somewhat nervous, but under sunny skies, all according to plan on Saturday. Why nervous? Well although I did enjoy it last year, keeping up with the race snakes was hard work and, not helped by a gear cable failure, I ended up limping home with just James for company. Would it be the same again? As I parked up and started to sort stuff, the sheer amount of high quality gear being unloaded and paraded around didn’t make me feel any more confident. However I had been told they were hoping to have three ability groups – fast, medium, slow – and rather than be daft enough to opt for the fast group this year, I had every intention of being slow and not pushing it, especially with Sunday in mind. I was doing my best to keep the nerves at bay.

I went inside the showroom – I mentioned it was a Jaguar ride right? – and admired the cars in passing on my way to use the facilities. I then chatted to Jack who’d invited me, and familiar face Ride Leader Pete who led us/me last year, while signing the relevant paperwork. Time to get properly ready then and hope it would all go according to plan. Whilst faffing I got chatting to another rider about the route and the day and where we’d come from and the like. A little while later, whilst waiting for the rider briefing, he popped up again and said…if I was from Axbridge, and cycling…was I in fact the Cycling Mayor? Well…yes…as it happens…I was. Am. Whatever 😉 Aw shucks, someone who reads this. How cool is that? 🙂

Time for the ‘tick every health & safety box’ rider briefing then. Which Jack did very well, to be fair. My heart sank somewhat when it became apparent that the plan was for us all to be one group for the whole ride. Oh dear… Resolved though I was to do my best I had visions of me just fading slowly into the background…and I found myself thanking my lucky stars that I’d downloaded the GPS route, even if my Garmin isn’t all that good at those. At least I would be able to get around on my own without getting lost!

So, after some obligatory photos with the Team Sky Jag, it was time to head off. It took us quite a while to get out of Bristol, what with traffic lights, traffic, and the like. And being one big group, which tended to get a little bit strung out as a result, I think it’s fair to say we didn’t make some of the rather impatient motorists like us any more than they had done before! On the upside this meant we were all pootling along at a more than tolerable speed. I wasn’t deluded enough to think that this would last but it was nice to have some time and space to warm up in.

Which took care of the first five miles or so I think. And took us out by the Long Ashton Park & Ride and out towards Nailsea which, on Sunday, would cause a certain amount of déja vù. Now that we were out of the big bad city, the group speed started to go up, as expected. I decided the best thing to do was to try and stay near the front so I had a way to drop back if necessary. However the roads through Wraxall and beyond were more rolling than anything else and dropping on the ups didn’t seem to be a problem. I even had chatting company for a while which was nice. It was definitely going better than the same time last year when I definitely remember struggling more. Actually I think this year’s group were overall a little slower…even if they’d hate to hear me say it…but you won’t hear me complaining!

It was nice out there though. Pretty. Sunshine, colourful lycra, Somerset countryside, what’s not to love? Mind you, I knew it wasn’t going to stay flat and easy all the way around. As we passed through the land of my father, through a surprisingly quiet Yatton, and on to Congresbury I knew that the first up of the day was ahead, and there was no way I’d be maintaining my place in the pack for that!

Right then, time for the up from Churchill to Shipham. And actually I got overtaken by far fewer riders than I was expecting. Which just goes to show that overall we were slower than last year 😉 It’s not the worst climb in the world, pretty gradual, with a steep kick out of Shipham, and then a lovely down which means you can then get quite a long way up the next kick to get to the top before the descent…

Which is where we met the Wiggle Mendips Sportive riders, who were coming down from Charterhouse to merge with us at the bottom by the Lillypool Cafe before going up to go down Shipham Hill. Of course having far more momentum on my side than them, I shot past them many of them who, not realising I wasn’t on their ride, were a tad bemused about me cruising up the hill past them like that. Very funny 🙂 After inevitably slowing down a bit for the last bit of the final up my favourite descent awaited me, complete with rabbits to chase and overtake. And I had a blast going down – much much fun. Especially as this year my gear cable didn’t snap on the way down! *grin* Since we were heading for our café stop at Edelweiss at the bottom of Cheddar Gorge I didn’t even have to slow down at the junction where I normally turn right, and knowing those roads well, I had lots more fun hurtling past lots of less cognisant riders to get to where everyone was gathering. As I neared the bottom of the Gorge, a Wiggle rider pulled up next to me to give me kudos on my descent. Apparently he’d been pedal to the metal trying to catch me all the way down and hadn’t manage to narrow the distance between us at all. Tee hee hee :D.

Time for coffee. Well it would have been, and was for many, but actually I fancied fizzy orange. And I definitely couldn’t face the cakes, bacon rolls, etc that others were eating. Not before Cheddar Gorge! The café staff were a tad overwhelmed by us all, so service got a bit chaotic. And £2 for a small bottle of fizzy Fanta seemed a tad much but hey, it went down at the same speed I’d just gone down 😉 There were also drinks and bars and things in the back of the support car too, as well as the opportunity to have your photo taken with it – all of which I let pass me by. I was just wondering when would be a good time to head off before everyone else so that they could catch me up later! After some time spent chatting to others in the sunshine I decided the time had come. It turned out that several others had already headed off, so I told the Ride Leaders I’d be doing the same, and one of the others joined me too.

Hello Cheddar Gorge. Again 😉 I’d like to thank the Wiggle Mendips Sportive for all their riders who were doing the same as it meant that, unusually, I actually overtook lots of people on the way up! Go me! Somewhat amusingly somewhere in the wiggly bits, on the side of the road, was Phil of SportivePhoto fame… I said hi, pointed out that I wasn’t one of his so he didn’t need to immortalise me, but he did anyway – and having seen the result on Twitter later, I think I need to buy that off him! He did make me laugh though 🙂 And I even overtook some of “our” riders as we neared the top – the shallow the gradient the faster I go, and it’s not like I don’t know the climb, right? Shame Strava doesn’t think I went up there at all…

Near the top I caught up with the rider I’d left the bottom with, and also picked up one I’d overtaken, and so as three Pro musketeers we headed off over the Mendips without waiting for the rest of the group to catch us. I had my reservations about this, mainly because I didn’t want to get lost, but we figured that between us and our various gadgets, we could probably find our way back. Which we did, with the odd little wiggle where we weren’t quite sure about things. I was a bit cautious about the West Harptree descent, not wanting another puncture. Chew Valley Lake was as pretty as ever, and the country lanes afterwards just sort of rolled by. Having done the ride before definitely helped, as sometimes I could remember the way, and also because it was all vaguely familiar, so it didn’t feel as long or as hard as last year, even including the couple of ups after Chew Magna. Luckily the guys waited for me to catch up after each one! The fast group caught us up on an up towards the end, but nowhere as soon as I’d expected, and then left us in their dust to head back into Bristol, followed by one of us. My remaining companion Andy, as he turned out to be, stuck with me however, which I was most grateful for; it is nice to ride in chatty company. He even waited when we got separated by traffic lights on the way back into Bristol on the basis that we’d done the last 20 miles together, we should do the last 200 yards that way too! And then there we were, back admiring posh cars, and picking up our goody bags. I’m pretty sure we were far from the last in too 🙂

I think there around 40 or so other riders on the ride, but I’m pleased to announce that I was the fastest woman today. I was also the slowest woman. Yes, I was the token woman! 😉 Not that I really noticed. I was Riding Like a Pro which, as I’ve said before, in my situation would make me Lance Armstrong, so I was just another bloke out there 😉 I really enjoyed the ride, even more so than last year. To be fair, the Ride Like A Pro supported ride bit only really worked for the first half of the ride, but at least after that, however splintered we all were, there was still a support car somewhere behind us. However the route is nice, the weather was good, there was a really friendly atmosphere all round, and I definitely feel like I held my own. A good ride for sure. Maybe they’ll invite me back next year? 🙂

Cycling time: 3:03
Distance: 48.5 miles
Avg: 15.9 mph
ODO: 10363.5 miles

Bike Bath 2015

I was asked to review Bike Bath last year but for some reason that I now forget, I couldn’t. So this year I decided I would put it on the calendar and make sure I did it. It seemed like I should.

Which is why, on Sunday morning, I was driving down half the course I would ride later, to get to Bath. It being around an hour away, it wasn’t the earliest of starts, which is always good, and the sun was shining which is always better. HQ is at Bath Recreation Ground in the centre of the city (I think it’s a city right?), but in order to promote cycling and reduce congestion, we were advised to park at the free Park and Ride facility on Newbridge Road. Not that I knew where that was, but I presumed my satnav would get me there which indeed it did. Unsurprisingly I was parked up next to a fair few doing exactly the same thing.

The forecast was for mild and not too windy, so there wasn’t too much faffing to do on the kit front, other than donning some arm warmers because it was still a tad chilly. I was pleased to discover the car park was free, though the bus into town if you use it is not. The toilets however, were not free, but I was pleased to discover I did actually have a 20p piece. In fact I think you could say I was relieved 😉

Time to see if I could find my way into town. Sorry, city 😉 I’d looked at the map supplied beforehand, and did so again, before heading off. I was hoping to follow someone in but all the cyclists who had been around had suddenly vanished! Luckily I do know Bath a bit and although I completely failed to take the right route in, I just followed the A4 until I knew where I was, found a sign pointing, presumably, to where I needed to be, and with no trouble at all other than a little traffic dodging, I was at HQ.

There was an event village set up, toilet blocks, tents, stands, all the usual, with the addition of the fabulous Claud the Butler. I decided to go and register before I indulged my high quality coffee addiction. Which luckily didn’t take long. A nice smiley lady told me where to sign, gave me my number and bike tags, and stuck a timing tag on the LHS of my helmet. Time for my short black Americano, a trip to the toilet block, and a quick break on the steps to watch everything happening.

Things were all fairly informal, so I just kinda got myself together, grabbed the bike off the rack where I’d stashed it earlier, and joined the latest group gathering by the start arch. The group ahead of us was just leaving so almost straight away we shuffled forwards for our rider briefing, that came with more of a sense of humour than usual, which was nice. And then a little after 8:00am I was on my way.

Sometimes local rides fill me with dread. Really, these roads, again? And sometimes I look forward to them because I know what I’m in for and I know I can do it. Today was one of the latter. Not that I’d ridden all of it before but still, a case of familiarity not breeding contempt 😉

In fact the first hour or so provided the greatest novelty. Cycling through Bath in vaguely cyclocross fashion through pedestrianised streets, the wrong way up roads, down cycle lanes, along cycle paths by the river, along a lot of cycle path in fact, including most novel of all – the Two Tunnels. Which was kinda scary! Two sections of the Somerset & Dorset railway have been turned into shared-use path, although at this time of morning there was only the odd walker/jogger to share them with. The tunnels are both downlit at regular intervals in oddly catacomb style so you can actually see where you’re going, but the darkness around you and the sunglasses balanced down your nose do lead to a slightly unstable feeling. The first section wasn’t that long, but the second section seemed to go on forever and I was quite glad to emerge blinking into the sunlight, in front of the obligatory photographer to capture the moment. As I thought, sunglasses on the end of your nose is not a good look 😉

There was a brief hiatus shortly afterwards where the signage said both straight on and left up and backwards. Logic dictated that anything other than straight on would just take you back, so presumably that was meant for one of the shorter routes. Straight on then, to infinity and beyond! Well to Somerset anyway. Time to go uphill then, and there were a few ups to climb out of Bath. Nothing too drastic though, just the gradual scenic variety really, followed by lots of country lane riding. I’m sure I should have been taking photos but I was busy warming up and looking around, and generally getting on with it! Oh, and we have great village names around here – Norton St Phillip, Buckland Dinham, and Great Elm to name a few.

We were getting into familiar territory now, especially when we got to Mells. Shortly afterwards came the first foodstop at Chilcompton. The food was plentiful, with sandwiches, pies, bananas, and more, and Cawston Press fizzy juice drinks but it was a bit chaotic as there were no bike stands, so trusted steeds were just strewn all over the gravel car park, mine included. I nipped inside the hall for a quick comfort break, took off the arm warmers, grabbed the usual half a banana and headed off again.

I think this route might become my favourite way to climb the Mendips, though sadly I live in completely the wrong place for it to be useful. Yes it’s essentially up, it goes on for quite a while, and some bits are steeper than others, but it just doesn’t really feel as bad as it should. And it’s pretty! Plus all that up brings you to the top of the Mendips, and across to Priddy, from where you get to go down again. Whoopee! Oddly I’ve been up Deerleap loads of times, but never down it. And I’m not sure I’d repeat the experience. Not with a classic car rally coming up it at the same time for sure! Given a guaranteed lack of traffic I think it’d be a lot of fun though, and it still wasn’t horrible, but it being narrow, steep and/or wiggly in places, it definitely called for a degree of respect. Mind you, once that bit was done, the flying section onwards through Wookey Hole and to the outskirts of Wells was much fun 🙂

Time to head to Wedmore, down a road I use at least once a week, but which somehow seemed more fun today. Well it was still sunny, and I knew it was pretty flat! In fact there was around 12 miles of flat, pretty Somerset roads, attractive villages and the like. I reminded myself that just because they’re a bit like wallpaper to me these days, people do actually come here on holiday, and it’s actually very lovely! I have to say though that having done a lot of sportives in the South West lately, Somerset really does some have the worst roads around – I found myself feeling a bit embarrassed for my county!

Anyway. Enough with the reflective and flat and scenic, time to go up the iconic! Yep, Cheddar Gorge loomed ahead of us. Believe me, it’s much nicer in the sunshine, and that we were still blessed with. My Garmin refuses to believe I went up it in the prescribed fashion so I have no idea whether it went well or not, but it felt like it did. It does help the PMA when you overtake people on the way up! For those of you who don’t know the Gorge, here it is in pictures. No Horseshoe Bend though – that involves concentration and hands on the handlebars! 🙂

It was starting to get a little less pleasant by the time I reached the top – clouding over and with some wind. Mind you, that’s often the case on the top of the Mendips, I should be used to it by now, and the cloud was still fairly patchy. Having made it up once more I knew I was going to get one of my favourite downs shortly – down West Harptree Hill. Which I was duly enjoying until I hit a bl**dy great pothole halfway down… No, I didn’t fall off, but it rapidly became clear that somewhere there ought to be air there wasn’t. I was, in so far as I could be, grateful to discover that it was at least only one tyre afflicted, and that it was the front tyre at that. So I took myself off to the side of the road and set about getting it sorted. Something I can do, I’m just not very fast at it. Still, I was sat on dry grass, sheltered, in a patch of sunshine, so hey, needs must. I was pleasantly surprised when most of the riders going past me checked to see if I was ok too – which is a good place to mention that this is one of the friendliest rides I’ve been on lately. Lots of etiquette, and lots of friendly chatting in passing too – makes a nice change!

As I sat there the silver mechanic support van came up past me, which may have been co-incidence, or maybe someone arrived at the foodstop a little further on and told them about me, who knows? They turned around a little way up, came back down, and pulled up next to me to check that I was ok and had everything I needed, which I was and I did, so I didn’t need their assistance. However having had a brief chat it was good to know that they were going to head back to the foodstop and that there would be a track pump waiting for me when I got there. My little pump is pretty darn good, but getting properly back up to pressure would be good, and save me bouncing around for the rest of the ride.

Job done, I headed down the rest of the hill a little more carefully, and then flew along to West Harptree proper where the foodstop was. And yes, there was a track pump, in fact an entire tool kit, complete with a hipster mechanic to pump my tyre up for me. Result! The food stop had a little less food, not that I needed any, but the Cawston Press fizzy rhubarb was fab! I also topped up my bottle with water and was rather thrilled to discover they also had Nuun tablets – my usual poison – so I wouldn’t even have to use the ones I’d brought with me – bonus!

Right then. With around 60 miles done, I only had 20 miles ahead. By the way it’s amazing how much easier 80 miles is to deal with mentally than 100. Weird, no? Of course it definitely helped that the weather was nice, the hills weren’t bad, and my legs just seemed to have it in them today. And the rest of my body too. I was having another good day at the office 🙂

The final 20 miles took us past the very pretty Chew Valley Lake, and then back to Bath along country lanes, without too much up or down. Sadly the weather deteriorated. Black clouds were gathering all around, and I was really hoping that, doing a fair speed, I might get back in before they got to me in a big way. Which I sort of did. It did rain for the last hour or so, but since it was still fairly mild, and it wasn’t too heavy, it was tolerable. It did stop me taking photos though, which was a shame. After quite a while of not knowing where I was, we popped out at Saltford, and suddenly I knew, and we were turning right onto the Bristol-Bath Railway Path to head, damply, back into Bath. At least the rain meant, once more, we weren’t sharing it with many other users. The damp and straight and flat did get a little tedious, well, mostly the damp to be fair, but it didn’t really take that long to get back into Bath, get confused once again by road signs, albeit in a different place, manage not to fall into the river cycling alongside it, and to negotiate Bath’s now busier streets to get back to HQ again.

Rolling under the Finish arch we were all welcomed in over the tannoy by name and with time, as various staff/volunteers presented us with our medals and sent us off over to the event village again. The rain managed to clear up for a bit as I parked the bike and then wandered around a bit trying to figure out what to do. There was free hot food available, but I wasn’t really in the mood. There was a Bath Ales bar doing a roaring trade, but I was driving. So I grabbed a bottle of water, sat by my bike, and checked my phone instead. And then the rain started again.

Right then, enough already. Time to head back to the car. Which turned out to be 3 miles of the wettest riding I’ve ever done. Everytime you wondered if it could get any worse, and if you could get any wetter, the heavens would inform you that yes it could, and yes you could! I got to the car, opened the boot, and climbed straight in!

And it didn’t stop. I changed into dry clothes. And waited. And it didn’t stop. Eventually I managed to get the bike into the car without getting out, and the nice rider who’d just arrived at his car next to me shut my boot for me, so I could clamber over into the driver seat and head home without getting soaking wet again! I gather it brightened up later and the whole event ended in glorious sunshine…*sulk* 😉

Still, I had a really good ride. Well, apart from the drenching 😉 I enjoyed the route. I had it going on, in so far as I ever do. It was well organised, low key and most and best of all, it was very friendly. It was definitely a nice day out on the bike 🙂

Cycling time: 5:10
Distance: 78.8 miles
Avg: 15.3mph
ODO: 10197.9 miles

Dartmoor Classic 2015

One of the many lovely things about the Dartmoor Classic is that that the organisers, the Mid Devon Cycling Club, put up all their guests and sponsors etc. the night before the event, and feed them too. Which meant that rather than getting up at hideous o’clock to get down in time to register and ride on the day, I could go down to Newton Abbot at my leisure on the Saturday. So I did. Being earlier than hotel check-in time I went straight to registration at the racecourse, where there was plenty of parking, and plenty going on. The event village was up and running, live music was happening outside on the Grandstand, and people were milling around here there and everywhere in the sun. This did not mean however that there were massive queues, quite the opposite in fact. I walked straight in, up to the Grande route tables, proved my identity with my passport, and was given my envelope. Job done.

It was all so efficient and took so little time that I didn’t really know what to do with myself next really. The event village didn’t have anything I could be convinced I needed, so having forgotten to get cash on the way down, and fearing the “minimum spend” card criteria that was probably in place at the catering places on site, I took myself off to the Beefeater next door instead for a pint and some lunch, having also forgotten that eating would be a good idea today. Guy turned up a while later and, after registering himself, we had a chat for a while before going our separate ways – him to the Premier Inn next door, and me back to the Passage House Hotel a little further away. Since I still had plenty of time to kill before dinner, after checking in and checking out the envelope and faffing a little, I spent a couple of hours overlooking the River Teign, in the sun, hydrating 😉

After a very pleasant meal with everyone at the Passage Hotel Inn next door, it was time for a relatively early night. Well…it would have been earlier had my IBS not decided that something in the usually entirely safe (and particularly nice actually) ham egg and chips I’d had was not to be tolerated, and it would be passing Go without imparting any nutritional benefit on the way through. (TMI? Tough!) Gee, thanks for that. Just what I needed. So finally I was off to bed around 11pm ish, with an alarm set for 5:30am, not off to the greatest start…

Which was not helped by, for whatever reason, me waking up at 3:30am and completely failing to find much further comfort in the arms of Morpheus. The bed was a little hard, the room was a little warm, the open window meant it was also a little noisy, with the road outside and with other guests coming and going through the very loud fire doors…it just wasn’t happening. Ho hum. Who needs sleep anyway, right?

So 5:30am found me already up and drinking bad coffee. I ate a banana and cereal bar, went through the usual pre-sportive routine, and then got the bike out and set up before riding over to reception to check out. Outside it was definitely not as nice as the day before. Sadly. Windier, chillier, cloudier…and the 5 minute ride to HQ made me very glad of my gilet and arm warmers!

There was a small group of us due to be starting off together (me, Guy, Steve, Rob, and two Alans I think?), if not riding so, and we all gathered slowly near Guy’s car under the Premier Inn. I took advantage of this to nip to the toilets, and got spotted and told off by some small officious female marshal for having my iPod earphone in one ear. Apparently I was to take it off, or else. Or else if I was spotted with it on the route, I would be disqualified and not get a time. Like I care…! Oh, and having checked back through the pdf with the regs? No mention of them not being allowed either, as I thought. She picked on me later in queue for departure too to make sure it was gone. Well it wasn’t. It just wasn’t visible. And neither was it visible anywhere where I was likely to get caught on the day either 😉 But if you think I’m slogging up hills all day on my own without some background comfort, you have another think coming. I’m not a slave to daft rules… It’s always on quietly in my left ear, and has yet to stop me hearing anything important! She made me cross. Mostly at the tone she used actually, I don’t recall still being a child…

OK, eventually, after Steve and Alan had turned up and registered, and with several pens of Grande riders already en route, we all squeezed into the next pen ahead of the Medio riders as apparently all Grande riders HAD to be in this pen. So there we duly were. We do what we’re told right? Not that we were going anywhere anytime soon. I know a rider briefing is a good thing, but this one was interminable…and I’m not sure anyone was paying attention after the first couple of minutes. Maybe he was just killing time to allow the previous pen to be escorted and set on their way before the lead out car came and did the same for us but hey, play some music or something first and then brief?

I was feeling a bit nervous standing there, as well as post-telling off grumpy, oddly. Not that I could figure out why, and I did try, but I just was. Pre-ride banter was up to standard, and it was really nice to catch up with the guys though. Finally it was our turn to go, with a neutralised start following that car, to keep us all well-behaved through the streets of Newton Abbot, before we were let off the leash a way out of town, past the timing gadgets, ready to get on with it.

My time with the guys lasted longer than the 5 minutes I’d half feared, but the elastic between myself and them snapped after about 20 minutes. Which came as no surprise, and I’d already said I was ok with that, which I really was and am. Although in retrospect it probably doesn’t help to start off a very long tough ride already feeling left behind if that makes sense? Maybe I’d have been better off starting on my own? We’ll never know…

Right then. Me again. This was my fourth time doing the Dartmoor Classic, and I was up for the 107 mile Grande route I was down for. Again. But I started having doubts early on, even though I did have words with myself about mentally shutting up until I’d at least warmed up properly. Which today wasn’t easy. It was, as I believe I’ve mentioned, grey, chilly, and rather windy. Better things were forecast though so…?

5 miles of relatively flat warm up, and we were going through Bovey Tracey and then up onto the Moor with the first climbing of the day. It’s really one long climb up to Haytor, but comes in sections, which today included a closed road Strava segment timed ascent of Beckaford Hill. I plodded up the whole thing in my usual fashion, though with rather more rider traffic around me than was sometimes comfortable. I looked at the views – stunning as to be expected – as crawler gear engaged (I’m always worried it won’t!) and it was all going ok. Still, my average speed was barely in double figures, the wind up there was killer, and I was still chilly.

After some time on top of the world fighting that wind, and a lovely descent, it was time for more up (when wasn’t it?). Several more ups as I recall. One of which, around Holne Chase I think, is steep and narrow and was once again too busy. After the left turn at the top, going steeply up past walking riders, with many more doing likewise ahead, one of those decided to try and get back on…failed to do so…and crashed to the floor right in front of me. OK, so I stopped just in time, and warned the riders climbing behind me, but guess who wasn’t going to be able to get back on either now? I can’t remember the last time I’ve had to walk on a hill and I was NOT amused! A short grumpy walk later I was back on my bike and back to slogging up hills into the wind…

This is going to sound weird. But I just got bored. I know all these hills. I knew
I could and would get up them. I wasn’t suffering any more than usual. But I just couldn’t really engage my head with the whole thing. Or figure out why I was doing it. With the speed I was averaging, in the wind and the cold, it was starting to look like I’d be out there all day. And after the walking incident? I was actually bored riding my bike and I certainly wasn’t enjoying myself, so I decided that on that basis I’d possibly be better off cutting my losses…

The first food stop, and also the route split, was after the very very long slow windy slog up to Princetown, 33 miles in. Which on a route like this is not two hours in, it’s three hours in, and was possibly a little late for me on that basis. Dave, of MDCC and training camp fame, was marshalling at the entry so I had a friendly face to say hi to on the way in. It was busy but not too crowded, the queues for the toilets were short, and the infamous savoury Homity pie was still plentiful. Having grabbed some and refilled my bottle, I took myself off to a patch of grass, broadcasting thousand mile stare so that everyone would leave me alone, and ate it whilst checking with myself that I really wanted to do what I thought I was going to.

I did. I really did. I texted Guy so as he’d know, and after another cheery wave to Dave, I was taking the left turn and taking the Medio Route, with 34 miles to go to get home instead of 74. So sue me! 😉 This didn’t mean the climbing was all done of course, but it did mean I’d broken the back of it. Typically by now the sun was coming out, and finally my gilet and arm warmers came off, one by two. After some Moor draggy ups, the long descent into Moretonhampstead meant that only one big climb was left – downs always mean ups – and this up doesn’t half go on. But I know it, knew it would pass, and knew that the last 15 miles or so would be a down followed by a long flying finish along the valley, and hey, who knew, I might even get my average speed up a bit? 😉

After a happy hour or so doing what I do best, I was back at the racecourse and rolling past all the spectators to go under the Finish arch. I can’t say I was bothering to smile for the photographers, something I failed to do all day, but then I rarely buy the photos anyway 😉 It was just sort of good to have it over and done with. Smiling on the inside?

I headed inside to get my time, the relevant medal for a slow Medio route, and my goody bag. It turns out my official time of 5:18:44 narrowly missed the under 5:17 standard for Silver which, in retrospect, is a bit annoying, but I doubt I’d have been able to do anything differently anyway. Well, ok, I could have not eaten pie. But it was good pie 🙂 And talking of good, the goody bag didn’t suck either – a DC kit bag, DC tube scarf, a Yellow Jersey Insurance Ass Saver, and an inner tube. Nice 🙂

For all that I didn’t feel the love, it’s still a great event. Pretty much every key junction is marshalled by friendly folk with fluorescent jackets and red flags. The signage is good if practically superfluous as a result. The foodstop is lovely. The scenery is lovely. The whole thing is well organised, and friendly and helpful. And it is a real challenge, although possibly less so fourth time around, and that’s my motivational problem not theirs. However they did have, I think, around 1000 more riders than last year though, and I think that was reflected on the narrow roads and the hills, which wasn’t great, as I’ve said. Would I recommend it? Yes, definitely. Would I do it again? Hm…ask me again next year.

Cycling time: 5:14 (official time 5:18)
Distance: 67.6 miles
Avg: 12.9 mph
ODO: 9952.3 miles

And PS: where has rider etiquette gone?!

Velothon Wales 2015 – Part 2

I bolted awake, convinced I’d missed my alarm clock only to discover that since it was 6:30am, not 7:30am, I hadn’t. And I wasn’t going to get much out of pretending to doze through that last hour either, though I still gave it a go…

You see Velothon Wales has 2 routes. A 50km, and a 140km. With 15,000 riders to organise, everyone is put into waves, with allotted pens of 500 riders or so, and start times with, somewhat unusually and probably having something to do with road closures and the pro-race later, the short route guys being set off first, and then us long route folk. I hadn’t paid attention to which Wave I was in, I just knew that I was in Pen E2, with a start time of 9:00am, and that I should be there after 8:25 and before 8:55. Hence the relatively late start. I prefer to start early – sooner started, sooner finished – but hey, I also do what I’m told.

Having decided that I couldn’t face the hotel breakfast, mainly because the chances of them having anything much I wanted to eat were slim, I stayed put and drank bad instant coffee, ate a banana and just half a cereal bar, because I really wasn’t in the mood for eating full-stop. I faffed a bit, packed everything away, killed time doing very little, and then headed for the car. Not because I was going to use it, but because that’s where the bike and assorted paraphernalia were! I reassembled the bike, loaded it with all the usual, dumped my bags in the car, checked out, and headed off in unexpected sunshine.

My pen was, as the pre-ride pdf had indicated, just along from registration so finding it wasn’t hard. With all the cyclists all heading in the same direction, I couldn’t have gotten lost if I’d tried! A short ride through the now fairly empty city centre and I was there. Being on the early side of my slot, I was fairly near the front of the pen, with half an hour to kill. Still, the guy on my right was the chatty sort, so time passed amicably enough. I could have used a toilet but there were none to be seen near us, and besides being penned in would have made getting out and back in kinda problematical. Riders to the front of me, riders to the back, here I was, stuck in the middle with me 😉 Ah well, it could wait. It was pretty warm standing in the sun going nowhere, so I stashed my gilet, and debated doing the same with the arm warmers, but decided against. Our allotted 9:00am came…and not long afterwards we were all gingerly moving slowly forward, through the pedestrianised high street, trying not to slip on the shiny tiles, or bump into other riders or the railings! Some tannoy girl was chatting away and telling us how great we all were, and exhorting us all to have a good time, but without any actual constructive info in there, I think she was being pretty much ignored, which means her continued level of enthusiasm was fairly impressive!

Right then. Under the Start line arch, and off we all go. Once moving things were distinctly chillier, and I was half tempted to stop and put the gilet back on, but I didn’t fancy stopping so soon, and figured I’d warm up soon enough. Especially as I knew the first 40km or so were really flat, so the chances are they’d be fast too. Which they were. The first hour of roundabouts and suburbs and industrial outskirts and beyond flew by at an average of nearly 20mph! It took a while to get used to the novelty of ignoring traffic lights and junctions, of going round whatever side of a roundabout or traffic island you fancied, and there being no cars about. There were plenty of other riders to avoid though, or be avoided by! Sometimes we were on main roads and even dual carriageways, with lovely road surfaces, and as we got into the countryside, we were on narrower lanes with surfaces that were less so, but were still better than I get around here mostly, which is good because avoiding potholes in traffic ain’t easy!

Yes that many riders means a lot of traffic, especially on the narrower country lanes, which could be a bit tricky. Somewhere around the 30 mile mark, on one such, we were all suddenly grinding to a halt and backing up, with riders picking up bikes and walking. This would appear to be where the (how unoriginal) infamous tacks were, or had been, though I never saw one. I just walked along with everyone else, rueing the effect on my average speed, until we all finally got going again!

While I’m walking my way through this, I should mention that there were quite a few accidents out there that I saw (well I saw the aftermath anyway), which presumably means there were even more I didn’t. And marshals standing in the middle road of the road shouting incoherently and angrily at masses of fast approaching riders nearly caused even more. I’m thinking they should have had big red flags to use in such situations, as other events do, because it would have been far clearer what they were trying to achieve. There were signs warning of hazards but small white text on the odd orange sign is not all that legible, and if they’re warning of a sharp turn at the bottom of a hill (as was often the case), it’s no wonder a lot of riders missed them. Kinda ruins a good descent too! And shouting angrily at everyone to slow down for such things doesn’t really work either, as quite a lot of those slowdowns were also unnecessary for more experienced riders who know how to descend and how to handle a bike. I do hate unnecessary loss of momentum…!

Right, where were we? Ah yes. After a couple of little lumps, we reached the first food station, at around the 37 mile mark. Which was, not to put too fine a point on it, complete chaos. There was a long queue of riders all bunched up to get in. Riders queuing to get out – through the same entrance. I nearly gave it a miss, but I really did need a toilet by now! I managed to park the bike against a fence rather than queuing to get it and me in, and then to also have to find somewhere to put it. Once in, gingerly negotiating chunky gravel in cleats, there were queues for the food and queues for the toilet. Not that you could tell which was which or where which began. I think I probably jumped the queue I needed first, but no-one called me on it 😉 I couldn’t face the food queue at all, and as there was someone pouring out water from bottles near the entrance, I just topped my bottles up, grabbed the bike from outside thus avoiding the queue to get out, and legged it! Chaos, like I said.

climbers behind me

Things then started to get more scenic, which was good. The Welsh hills loomed ahead in the sunshine, and I knew all the climbing would be starting soon enough, though I wasn’t in any rush to get there! There were two big climbs today – the Tumble and Caerphilly Mountain. I’d avoided researching them too much – it’s not like knowing what they were like was going to stop me having to go up them – but rumour had it they were both pretty difficult. But by whose standards?

Which brings us to The Tumble. Which turned out to be long, fairly steep, and it even had a hairpin. It’s 6km at an average of 10% apparently. But it was oh so totally doable. My crawler gear was well and truly installed today, as others steam-trained past me, huffing and puffing, or walked by the wayside, I just slowly ground my way up serenely. How cool is that? There was scenery, and sheep, and sunshine, and although it didn’t half go on, well, it just went well. It’s lovely when it works 🙂

The second food stop was at the top and just as chaotic. Again with the same entrance/exit. It was more of a drink/gel stop than food stop though – the food had pretty much run out. And yes, there were queues all over, all over again. Once more unto the toilet, my friends. Once more to get water. And once more to leg it asap. Oh, and the state of the place! Rubbish everywhere, even with large bins all over the place! Better than dropping it on the roads I suppose, though a fair bit of that was happening too sadly, but still… Not good 🙁

Still the descent afterwards was fun; in fact the next five miles or so were essentially downhill, which is alway good 🙂 The next section seemed to involve a lot of urban and main roads and dual carriageways (empty of course!), and long slow climbs up those, which didn’t really feel like hills somehow but I guess they probably were. I guess main roads only really do up in the same way railway lines do – gradually! I wasn’t really feeling them though – by which I mean they were just ups not hills, to be followed by downs, as today I was on form and it was all going well (yes, it happens!).

There was one down, on the wrong side of a dual carriageway, on to a large roundabout, where the road surface at the bottom was just atrocious and my camera managed to bounce out of my top tube bag and onto the ground. B*gger. That would be why I use a camera for photos not my phone! I pulled up by some spectators on the side of the roundabout, asked if they wouldn’t mind watching the bike while I tried to retrieve it, and headed back to whence it lay. Luckily a marshal had seen my predicament, and he got it, and the memory card and battery, for me…and nearly got run (ridden!) over for his troubles. Luckily he didn’t, and since he had a fluorescent jacket on and I didn’t – I probably wouldn’t have been so lucky! Many thanks to him 🙂 And guess what, the camera, though a little battered and bruised, when reassembled, was still working – result! The spectators were most amused by the extra show, and loving their location. Thanks to their choice spot they’d managed to collect a small hoard of riders’ bottles which had likewise bounced free!

Off to Caerphilly we go. It has a castle and everything you know. Not just a mountain 😉 As with so many places en-route, there were plenty of spectators out cheering us on too. It’s hard to suffer too much on the bike when you’re having to smile and wave so much – it just cheers you up! 🙂 Which didn’t stop it being time to go up that mountain though. Shorter than the Tumble but steeper and a bit narrower and by now, it being later in the ride so I guess they were tireder, lots and lots and lots more riders were walking. Shame they couldn’t stick to the left hand side, or when they were, walk in smaller groups. With less than half the road free to ride up, with riders going down when it all got too much and un-cleating didn’t happen, or just stopping willy nilly, and with other faster climbers trying to push through, my heart was in my mouth frequently. I was back in my serene crawler gear and quite enjoying it, and really really really didn’t want anyone to make me stop! I was very relieved to make it to the top in one piece. Oh, and a little bit chuffed too 🙂

There was another feedstop up here, but this time I didn’t even bother, not after the state of the last two. Plus I was only 8 downhill miles from the end so there didn’t seem much point anyway. Yo home to Bel-Air 😉 The last few miles flew by, and I flew by a fair few riders too, as I had been doing all day, which is always good for the ego. And as I rolled under the Finish arch and joined the walking procession for medals etc, listening to those talking about how hard it had been and how tired they were I definitely had smug face on because to me it wasn’t, and I wasn’t. By my standards I nailed it 🙂

However, the after-ride aftermath was a bit of an anti-climax. We all shuffled forwards, got our medals, were offered a bottle of water and/or an inch of banana, then shuffled back down the other side…and that was it. The event village was still there, with some street food/coffee places, but as ever all I wanted was fizzy orange, far too down market for them 😉 There wasn’t much space for sitting around, even milling around was tricky with all the people with bikes, accompanying supporters, family, etc…none of which I had. So, Velothon Wales done, I just took myself straight back to the hotel. Where, once my car and I were all sorted and ready to go home, I had that fizzy orange 🙂

I guess this is sort of a mixed review. Let’s start with the negatives. You can’t blame the organisers for the idiot who put tacks down (although he probably thinks you can). And since all the pre-ride info had included a section on how to ride in groups and be a polite rider, you can’t blame them for the nearly complete lack of rider etiquette. Precious few riders were pointing out obstacles, or issuing a polite “coming through”, “on your right” and the like, which often made things a bit tricky.

But there’s a lot to improve/tweak for the organisers here. Better signage for starters. When you don’t have to have signs for the route, riders aren’t really looking for signs at all so those that you do have need to be large, and clear. And to encourage walking riders to stick to the left! The marshals were friendly enough and clearly helpful when they had to be, but a lot of big events use marshals with red flags on sharp corners etc – shouting really isn’t the way to go. I think maybe some of the marshals/outriders needed to better trained to cope with emergencies too (I do hope everyone who was one is ok). Most importantly of all, the food stops need a one-way system, an entry and exit, more food, and more toilets! Toilets along the route would be good too – and designated rubbish areas might help too. Which pretty much covers constructive criticism I think…

On the upside I LOVED the closed roads, I enjoyed the scenic hilly section, and all the local support was great. With the exception of the two massive hills I found the route pretty easy and with so much to pay attention too – other riders, marshals, supporters – I never got bored, or stuck on my own. The time just flew by, as I did…kinda 😉

Cycling time: 5:23 (official time 5:51)
Distance: 85.7 miles
Avg: 15.9 mph
ODO: 9804.8 miles

There were supposed to be 15,000 riders all together, but from the results it looks like there was only a total of 9815, which is a pretty high attrition rate! Still, 997 (around 11%) of those on the long route were women, which is more than most events manage (and it was 50% on the short route!). My stats for the long route? I was 5543rd out of 8777, 419th woman, and 78th out of the 174 ladies in my age group. Yes, I know, doesn’t really convey nailed it does it? But I feel like I did, and that’ll do me 🙂

Velothon Wales 2015 – Part 1

Woohoo – a new event! And not just new to me – new full stop. And it was a big’un too – Velothon Wales! In the absence of a closed road foreign road event on my calendar this year (*sob*), 15,000 riders on Welsh closed roads sounded like a pretty good Plan B to me, so I signed up sometime in the far and distant past, booked my hotel, and pretty much forgot about it…

Until this weekend of course. Which saw me, and a great many other cyclists, all heading down the M4 to Cardiff on Saturday afternoon, those that weren’t going to be doing the same on Sunday of course. I reckon around 20% of the many cars patiently queuing at the Severn Crossing toll booth had bikes either on or in them! Of course adding all of us to Cardiff’s usual Saturday afternoon traffic made for slow progress from thereon in…

OK, so I’d booked my hotel, the Big Sleep in Cardiff, through Velothon’s partner of choice. I knew they had limited parking. I was hoping that by getting there early I would stand a chance of getting a space. As I sat there in stop/start interminable traffic, eventually able to see my hotel but still not getting there, I felt my chances slipping away…surrounding by car parks with big red “Full” notices, and no alternative booked… So you can imagine how relieved I was when I finally pulled up the (very steep) ramp to the car park and found spaces if not galore, certainly sufficient for my needs! *phew*. Although my paperwork had said check in was at 2pm, and I was marginally early for that, it turned out that is oft the case, the paperwork sent by those I had booked through was wrong, and it was actually at 3pm. Probably explains why not everyone else was there yet and why there were spaces…but whatever the reason I certainly wasn’t complaining. I was where I needed to be, when I needed to be, and my little red car was happily parked up.

The weather wasn’t great, mild but damp. So given an hour or so to kill, I sorted some stuff out with the car and bag and such, grabbed my waterproof jacket, and headed back to the hotel to use the toilets and ask for directions to Cardiff Castle, which is roughly where I knew registration was. As it turns out another gentleman, aka a cyclist (not always the same thing!), was doing the same, so I acquired company by the name of Charlie. We headed off in the drizzle, me with the map of course, apparently it’s a girl thing 😉 We jay-walked our way there in grockle fashion, and eventually reached the event village by City Hall. To be fair, a couple of signs wouldn’t have gone amiss! The signs once there weren’t all that helpful either, but we figured the large white tent not noticeably selling anything and with a few people queuing out of it was probably registration which indeed it was. Having been open since Thursday, and with anyone else checking in to the City probably aiming for 3pm, the various number-related queues were pretty short, and mine was non-existent. For a change having been asked to bring photo ID with me, (I only have my passport and I really don’t like having to take it to sportives and then leave it in the car), I was actually asked to produce it. Which I did, of course. I was clearly me, so I was allowed to have my essential envelope and a goody bag which I gather in some cases contained hair conditioner which is useless to your average MAMIL and which might have actually come in handy for me. I just got some fliers and a pack of Craisins! And a voucher for a free Enervit bottle which, once Charlie was likewise sorted, we both went and collected. He also got one of their complete race nutrition – before, during, after – packs, which he’d reserved. I passed. Surprise, surprise 😉

We wandered around the village a bit. He needed a new bottle cage and gas canisters – which he found. I was handed the bag containing all these as he paid, as ever, a girl would only be there as someone’s wife, right? *sigh* My new marital status was the cause of quite some amusement 😉 Muc-Off were also there and I remembered I’d run out of their Chain Cleaner, so I picked some of that up too (saves paying p&p right?). But there wasn’t much else to do, or pay attention to, especially in the damp, so we headed back to the hotel to respectively check in at last, having duly killed the necessary hour to make our presence permissible. It turns out that the hotel is co-owned by John Malkovich, which is a tad surreal, as was sharing my room with a photograph of him staring out at me. Still, my room seemed, if basic, perfectly pleasant, though the fluffy curtains were a tad weird. So, what to do now? Charlie had work to do…due a presentation of exciting accountancy stuff on Monday morning apparently, whereas I had no such ties on my time. Since he had suggested I might like to join him and his club – iCycle from Bedford- for the meal they were all having that evening, although I wasn’t sure I would, it being a tad outside my comfort zone, I figured I should get some cash just in case, and hey, a girl needs to hydrate, no? 😉

On my way into town I walked past the kind of pub I always want to go in, all historic and tiled and stunning…but you can’t see inside so it’s a tad scary and, giving in to fear, I walked on by. Having found cash, the centre of Cardiff on a Saturday afternoon was a whole heap more scary though! And I don’t just mean the sheer quantity of hen/stag parties. They have an excuse (kinda!). I’m talking the other denizens prowling the streets! Oh, so classy…and I’d better add a big NOT there! All the central pubs, including a Wetherspoons which can sometimes be a good option, were heaving and loud and just not where I wanted to hang out in a quiet corner, mostly because there wasn’t such a thing anywhere to be found. So I was brave. I went back to the other pub. It was empty. And as I wandered around a bit downstairs, as stunning as I’d hoped. I went back to the main bar which was purple, with pink crystal chandeliers over the bar, and Perroni on tap. On ordering my pint from the softly spoken barman, it occurred to me that I wasn’t in Kansas in anymore, but I was probably somewhere where Dorothy would have a lot of friends. So once I was sat down I googled it. Yep 😉 Hey, it made no odds to me – the beer was cold and wet and wanted, my seat was purple and comfy, it was quiet, and a lot lighter and airier than I’d expected, so I curled up to read my Kindle happily for an hour or so 🙂

That done, I figured I’d head back to the hotel if I was going to have another one, and chill in my room sorting stuff for a while instead, as I was getting a bit chilly rattling around the place on my own. So I did just that. Whilst doing such upstairs, pinning numbers on jerseys and the like, and then resting up on my comfy bed, Charlie texted me to say I was indeed welcome to join them all for dinner and he was getting a taxi at 18:45pm if I wanted to. Just for once, maybe inspired by having been brave with the pub, I decided that I would. Unaccustomed as I am to being sociable, I thought I’d give it a go 🙂

I was nearly late, having got stuck filling in a Human Race survey that took far longer than it should have done. But I made it down in time, and we headed off to Demiro’s which turned out to be in Cardiff Bay, just down the road, where I’ve been before, and I like it there. Good start 🙂 By the time we’d all arrived there were about 25 of us, and I was somewhere in the middle of the table, which was nice, and made it easier to meet people. The menu was a tricolore of Welsh, Italian, and Spanish – an interesting mix! – but it had a whole heap of carb-loading options for those that needed them. Since gluten-free didn’t seem to be an option and I didn’t want to ask, I went with squid rings and then crab cakes. Not safe, but safer 😉 Oh, and also pretty good! As was the company, as it turns out. Lots of the usual cycling conversations, and quite a lot of good-natured banter 🙂 I’m not sure any of us were expecting cabaret…but they had singing waiters! One younger, one more Tony Bennett. Both quite good, especially so according to the lady of a certain age, and part of a large party in a middle of the room, who really got into the swing of things…extra entertainment! Bet her head hurt the next morning 😉 Having eaten well, drunk well but less than her, and done the usual splitting the bill shenanigans, Charlie and I eventually found another taxi and headed back to the hotel for a quiet drink putting the world to rights, before heading off to our rooms for a relatively early night. Bikes to ride an’ all that. No Dangerous Liaisons for me, y’hear? 😉 I was dead proud of myself for being brave twice in one day, both of which had gone well, and amused to have been both married off and adopted in one day too. Funny old world 😉 So far, so good…

I wanna get outside

About bl**dy time too. After a country mice weekend away and a day afterwards when work and meetings meant time was too squeezed for exercise of any sort, today I finally got back out on the bike again. This, in case you were wondering, is a good thing. Well, unless you’re Alan that is. Initially he was with me, though a bit tired after a long ride on Sunday. But it swiftly became clear that he was having a very bad day at the office, and he wasn’t with me, he was well behind me, and not looking at all good either. I don’t think tired covered it to be honest…he really didn’t look well, and it looked more like he was ill than tired – let’s face it, he usually kicks my ar*e on both the flat and up hills, even when tired. Not today though 🙁

So when we reached Winscombe the time had come for a parting of the ways. His way; to be straight back down the A38 and home as fast as his legs would carry him, which probably wasn’t likely to be at anything like his normal speed or anywhere near as quickly as he’d have liked. My way; to carry on with my planned route because I was out, I needed to be out, I needed the miles, and besides I’d made a plan, and plans are made to be stuck to. Oh and the sun was shining, that always helps 😉

extra points if you can name this up…

Off I went. Uphill, as it happens. Up to where the wind blows even stronger, even on a good day which, wind-wise, it already wasn’t. Really, will the wind around here ever stop? It seems to have become a constant. It’s driving me mad. Or madder! 😉 It just feels so unfair. I was going pretty well up the hills, really well actually, but fighting the wind everywhere else? Ick. Double ick. It just beats you down mentally and physically, whilst simultaneously deafening you. It’s a bleeding miracle I managed anything approaching a respectable average speed, all things considered. But on the upside I did my loop as planned. I did the ups, still getting better, and I nailed Burrington Combe. At some point down there I hit 51.7mph. Very, very, very cool. So, as ever, out was better than in, and now I feel better in for having been out 🙂

Cycling time: 2:02
Distance: 29.9 miles
Avg: 14.6 mph
ODO: 9692.1 miles

I have plans to ride more this week, although my company plans have clearly changed – get well soon Alan! And for the next two weekends I have sportives. My two big guns for this year I guess – Velothon Wales and the Dartmoor Classic. Which makes this photo pretty appropriate 😉 I’m feeling like I might, just might, be on form. Well, as on form as I get. So I’m kinda interested to see how things go… Bring it on, and wish me luck! 😀

Black Rat Cyclosportive 2015

I’ve done the Black Rat Cyclosportive before, and this was to be my third time. However it’s been different every time. It was based in Portishead for my first in 2012, when it went around Somerset and also for my second, in its “Three Bridges” incarnation in 2014. This time The Black Rat had relocated to Clifton Rugby Club for a route that wouldn’t be dissimilar to last year but with less bridges and no Avonmouth to negotiate – so I was definitely up for doing it again.

Clifton Rugby Club is, however, not that easy to find. The satnav was convinced it was a car showroom. The entrance on the other side of the uncrossable dual carriageway wasn’t open, so clearly wasn’t the right one. Hm. So, I drove around circuitously a bit in the hope that I would find inspiration…which, when a black arrow hove into view I did. I followed it and found the entrance lurking on the side of the one way road that I couldn’t have gone done coming from the direction I’d arrived anyway. I gather there was a different postcode to use somewhere but clearly that had passed me and many others by. Some sort of signage would definitely have been helpful, and if it wasn’t for the marshals at the entrance I could use when I found it, it still wouldn’t have been obvious that I was in the right place!

Still, here I was, marshalled to park on a grassy field in the sun, where I would later be joined by both my Dad and Alan. In the meantime I headed off to register in the club building. Being early the event was still sort of setting up around me and there certainly weren’t any queues for anything. I’d remembered my 613 number so found the right place on the table to be given all the usual, and also a free High5 gel. With at least an hour in hand I had plenty of time to use the facilities and grab a cup of free coffee too.

The forecast was for pretty much the same as my last ride, sunny/cloudy/breezy/mildish, so I’d figured out what to wear already. Lightweight longs, toe covers, bamboo s/s base layer, merino s/s jersey, arm warmers, and gilet. Which made for a whole heap less faffing than sometimes. Well, apart from trying to get the bl**dy seat post timing tag on – not easy with my huge saddle bag! As I was sitting in the car wondering what to do next Dad walked past looking for me. And shortly afterwards Alan walked past on his way to register. And then there were three. Not three to ride together, as Dad was doing the short route, with some of his club members around. But Alan and I were both down for the 100 mile route, aka the Granfondo, his first in quite some time, and we were going to be sticking together for the duration. ‘Rah – company!

Having said that, I then managed to misplace Alan until just before they started sending riders off…I was starting to worry I’d be riding on my own after all! So with no time to waste, we joined the queue, and waited for our turn to be briefed and sent on our way. The rider briefing was a tad rambling but covered the usual bases, and we were on our way at 8:37am, up that one way road, and up the dual carriageway. Not for long though, very shortly we turned left into country lanes, at which point I found myself wishing we’d been let go in smaller groups as things got a bit clogged up. Still at least the rider traffic stopped us hurtling off too fast too soon right?

I’m often a bit blasé about sportives this days but knowing that I was doing it with Alan who’s done less of ’em than me, I’d paid more attention to the elevation of the route than usual so that I knew that with the exception of one lump, we were in for pretty flat times all the way until the Severn Bridge. I figured that lump would be a good test of my insides anyway, although since I was back to popping pills like smarties, I was already dosed up and not too concerned. So we bimbled our way around the country lanes, doing a reasonable speed but not pushing it, and that lump, whilst a bit testing on early legs, went fine albeit predictably slowly. Good start 🙂

Right, off to the (old) Severn Bridge. Which I love riding across. And today was no exception. You can see it shining white like a beacon from quite a way off, and it always cheers me up. After the wiggly cycle path to get to the bridge proper, we stopped for selfies and the like to immortalise the moment, before enjoying the scenic if slightly windy ride across to Wales. It sure was pwerty 🙂 Unlike the housing estates of Chepstow that followed, but they passed by soon enough. We then bunched up for a while at the traffic lights in the centre where the route split was last year, which have possibly the shortest “go” phase anywhere, though I’m pleased to say no-one was jumping them!

Wales is where the hills are. And oddly I like Welsh hills. They’re, mostly, long but not too steep. We climbed out of Chepstow past the racecourse and beyond and then flew back down to the Wye Valley to once more immortalise Tintern Abbey. By now I was having a serious case of déja-vù but hey, the abbey looks much nicer in sunshine, no? Shortly after the abbey came the route split. Which didn’t seem to be marked, and the marshal who was occasionally shouting out which way was which was more interested in his mobile phone than whether or not we were going the right way. Luckily I caught the tail end of his last holler and we went straight on whilst the other two routes went left. Suddenly where there had been lots of riders around us, there weren’t! And then we passed some signs marking another route split…curiouser and curiouser! We carried on our merry Granfondo way as indicated…

Today’s event turned out to be awfully like the Wiggle Wye Valley Warrior, with the addition of the Bridge, and the subtraction of Symonds Yat. Sounds good to me! I hadn’t realised quite how identical it would be but then even if I had, having liked that route, I’d probably still have done it 🙂 When I met an up I knew I knew I could do it, and when I met a down I knew I could properly get in to it. Lovely 🙂 It was however all new to Alan!

As we carried on, the Wye Valley was just as beautiful as ever, though the bluebells were a little past their best by now. It really is pretty around there. Of course you have to climb out of the valley eventually, which was a new climb to me I think, up to St Briavel’s Castle. It has a Moat Society and everything, who knew?! The first food stop came at the 50km mark shortly afterwards, where we were marshalled over a timing mat, so they’d know who’d really done which route presumably. The stop was in a pub car park, a pub which had very salubrious toilets, and outside there was plenty of food on offer, both sweet and savoury. Although being me I just had half a banana *grin*.

Off we went again, with more familiar roads. The next big up. The church at Staunton. Monmouth. And once again, espied from a distance, Lydart or Trelleck Hill. Again! But I was doing well on hills today. Well full stop actually. I was feeling really strong, which was…unprecedented? I actually left Alan behind going up and he didn’t catch me until near the top when things were easing off. My best time up there ever I’ll have you know. Two minutes faster than two weeks ago! 🙂

Time for the second food stop, at 80km in, at another pub, in Trelleck. They were waiting on a delivery of more food but there was still a range and enough to go around. And they still had bananas 🙂 I was keeping my bottles well topped up today, but with the food stops so well spaced out it probably wasn’t essential. We had a bit of a chat with one of the organisers, and checked up on the rest of the route with him. I thought we’d done the four hills that I was expecting so far, so there was due to be a flattish/rolling section before one last big one, which he confirmed. Always good to know. And, for a change, I wasn’t asking because I was hating the going up bits, I just wanted to be prepared 🙂

We headed off once more, but Alan seemed to be flagging a bit, although he reckoned I was just haring off a bit. Yep, I was still feeling strong 🙂 I did suggest he took another gel though, and I reined it in a bit and tried to make sure he was always on my wheel – it’s always easier to follow a wheel, right? Shortly after the stop and a bit more up came the next route split, a very sharp right turn, a bit out of the blue, and again not that well signposted. We had to retrace a little bit and locate/check the signs so as to take our right turn rather than head straight back to Chepstow. Which also took us down possibly the best descent of the day. Fab views but steep and fast and not technical so no photos I’m afraid! So much fun 🙂

As promised the next section was indeed more on the flat side, with views, windmills and bridges – I do like having something definite to photograph 🙂 Again I was riding within myself, with Alan behind me. All of which took us to the third and final foodstop, once again at a pub, with the same selection of food. Alan was feeling it, and my left knee was playing up. Knowing there was a final big hill coming up even I thought a gel might be a good idea, not to mention it making a change from bananas 😉 And that final hill, the long slow interminable climb up from Usk towards Chepstow was just as tedious as it always is! Although better in the dry and sort of bright than in the rain to be sure. Knowing it was the last climb of the day and that the rest of the route would be down or flat was motivational too.

It was as billed. There was a long, long, long, enjoyable downhill and then we had to deal with Chepstow before we could go over the lovely bridge again. There was some confusion regarding signs and directions around the racecourse and also at the beginning of the bridge, but after some debate with other riders we all took the right path and crossed the by now distinctly windier bridge, but on t’other side this time. Which was still fun, even if Alan doesn’t look like it was. This left us with around 16 flat miles to do. Into a killer headwind. It has to be said, this was not fun. Alan was on my wheel with little left in the tank, my head was down, and yes, we were dragging our average speed up nicely, but man, it was hard work! And when we missed a right hand turn sign somehow, it being small and not that obvious on the pole on the RHS under a tree where it was, and we had to stop, deliberate, and retrace again? I did have a minor sense of humour failure. Still, it did mean, whilst stopped and trying to check GPS maps, that I took the final dose of pills that I’d been putting off taking since we were so nearly back, so it probably had a silver lining. Head down again, route relocated, we continued to eat up the final few miles until finally we were over, or under, the Finish line and sitting in the sun with a well earned pasty and some cider. Result 🙂 Black Rat done!

Cycling time: 6:44
Distance: 100.7 miles
Avg: 14.9 mph
ODO: 9442.6 miles

I was so pleased with how strong I felt out there. Really, I was on one, which is very rare. I’m really pleased we both did the 100 miles as planned, and company made the whole thing practically pleasant. In fact time/speed wise it’s one of my best centuries in quite a while. Go us! As events go I like it. I like the route, I like the hills, I like the organisers, I like the foodstops, and I loved the free cider afterwards – especially when they had too much and we were encouraged to fill up bottles and take it home with us! But I think the signage needs some work. One sign per junction just ain’t enough, and although there were some repeater ribbons, more would have been good. Let’s face it, it’s very rare that I go off course on a sportive…and I’ve had some experience of these things *grin*. I’d still do it again though – and I’d also recommend it 🙂