Sunny Saturday dawned… Only it wasn’t sunny at all. The only patch of cloud in the whole country…and it was over us. All grey and disappointing. No fair! But faint heart never won fair maid, and today it was never going to be just me, so I was once again provided with motivation to get out of the house. Which I definitely need at the moment, what with one thing and another. It was another of Martyn’s plans, bringing together him, I, Jon, James, Paul and Steve in the Square at 9:00am for a pre-advertised 55 mile route, with the odd lump but fairly flat really. Apart from the starting with Notting Hill bit, “just to warm the legs up”. In case you were wondering, I quite like my legs cold ;). And Steve would probably quite like not to have punctured shortly afterwards. Especially a rear wheel puncture. B*gger. Being short on time as it was, something to do with brownie points, he decided to bail, discretion being the better part of valour, and sent us on our way without him. Which was a shame, having just started to deliberate on some rather interesting ideas for foreign adventures in years to come. Ah well – next time. To be continued…!
The five off us headed off again, heading South for the summer. Two in front and two in the back, for the most part. I felt escorted. Slightly sedan chair like, oddly. Any time there was a hill of any sort, the lads were off though…especially when Martyn had a Strava segment in mind…Strava has a lot to answer for! I just did the usual falling off the back, plodding thing, whilst quietly laughing (or not so quietly) at their antics. Ain’t nothing going to get me up hills faster, especially when I’m in the middle of a bad patch and on the pills! Jon very kindly waited for me to catch up every time, and eventually we’d get faster, they’d slow down a bit, and we’d all be back together again.
By the time all of us got to the top of Woolavington, the sun had broken through, shining over the guys waiting for me there. We took a break, and I stashed my arm warmers and gilet, having finally warmed up enough for me. Whilst re-mounting I over-balanced, and nearly tipped straight over to the other side. I’m not always that steady on my feet these days. Side effect or symptom, hard to tell. My left foot somehow found the ground, my hand found Paul’s saddle, and I managed to stay upright. However my right foot got caught on my chainset. Literally.
But we were on our way…and I was kinda ignoring it, until I looked down and realised I was dripping blood. MaxiMe and I are so related. Whilst walking along the canal in Bristol the other day, a joke was made about pushing him in. His first comment was that we’d have to pay for his new phone! Well my first worry in this instance was that I was going to get blood on my lovely (newish) white shoes! *grin*. I did my best to pull my very short sock over it, but I was fighting a losing battle. That’s what you get for trying to avoid yet more daft tan lines ;). I asked, without much expectation of a positive response, if anyone had a tissue…which unsurprisingly they didn’t. But Martyn, being ever the consummate gentleman, actually had a handkerchief! A handkerchief! Remember those?! So we pulled over, and I wiped the oil away and mopped up as best I could. In case you were wondering, even if I were the kind of girl who kept her chainset immaculately clean (I’m not, ask Chris), they’re not the kind of thing you should go slicing yourself open with. D’oh!
Off we went again, with me wincing slightly from time to time, and hoisting my now red sock up now and then. Paul was off on one today…and there’s never any point expecting Martyn to rein him in – they’re as bad as each other! Clearly he knew where he was going, hurtling happily around country lanes that were far less familiar to me. Up to a point. When it came to actually finding the coffee stop, somewhere beyond the Mumps, things got distinctly more sketchy…! For a while there I thought we were just going to keep heading South forever and ever, never asking for directions, until…but somehow, by luck more than good judgement, though both of them will deny that vehemently, we arrived at our destination.
The tea shop at Maunsell Lock is a lovely spot. Secluded, sunny, pretty. The coffee isn’t the greatest, but they did, amazingly, find me a large plaster. I didn’t think Health & Safety allowed such things these days, for some daft fear of latex allergy. But it was a fabric one, not a latex one, so maybe that’s why. Not that I care, I was just happy to cover up the mess I’d made!
Boats, and water, and tall stories, and shorter ones. We sat around in the sunshine, and watched Martyn try and figure out how to get from where we were, to where we wanted to be, presuming he was entirely sure where we were to start with ;). There was lots of gadget consulting. Asking a broad range of people for their suggestions. Many cooks, too many Injuns…
..which probably explains why we headed off down a no-through road, got chased by dogs that the farmer couldn’t control and had to wait for a grass snake to cross the road before we could turn around and come back past the now chortling farmer again. Bet that made his day!
Right, where we were going again? Oh yes – home. Home, James, and don’t spare the horses…! It didn’t seem to take as long to get back to the Mumps as it did going the other way – one of the benefits of actually knowing where you’re going. That and caffeine fuelled group riding, one presumes. The main drag back from Othery on the A361 towards Moorlinch is fast, flat, busy, and not a whole heap of fun, so it was a relief to get back on to back roads, even if that was going to mean running up that hill. Unsurprisingly, I just plodded happily up, in the sunshine, while they all waited for me at the junction with the A39. They were taking various sorts of break, so so did I. Time to decant bottles, and take the next dose of pills while no-one was looking. It is one of those weeks after all. I think I got away with it, I may be wrong. Not that it matters. Since I blab all over t’internet, it’s not like I can be said to be hiding it! Duly refreshed, we were off again. Getting to the other side of the road here was as much fun as ever – there’s definitely an element of playing chicken! But we all made it, and from here on in, it was much easier. And much flatter. Coincidence? ;).
After some of usual variety of fast and foolish got us from Burtle to Mark, it was time to part company. All of us had places to be, and since 55 miles was clearly going to be over 60 by the time we’d finished, we didn’t have as much time to get back to our respective homes as we thought we were going to have! Time to find the most direct route from A to B. Or in my case, M to A. Which meant heading East on the Kingsway until you hit A38 and go North. All in the fastest possible way. Well, I couldn’t very well have my average speed dropping, now could I? I even overtook a tractor on the A38, since there was room for me to past, but not for the traffic behind me. not funny at all. Not much ;). It’s nice to know there’s some things I can still do…
Cycling time: 3:34 hrs.
Distance: 61.6 miles.
Avs: 17.2 mph.
ODO: 2747.7