Tag Archives: Severn Bridge

Severn Bridge Sportive 2016

I have a thing about cycling over the Severn Bridge. As some of you probably know. I love it. Dunno why. Just do. So I have a tendency to do sportives that cross it just because they do. And when last year’s Severn Bridge Sportive turned out to not just cross it but to actually cross it using the main carriageway, I was made up. It was AWESOME. So doing the event again this year was pretty much a given. Sign me up now.

Well it was a given back then anyway, back when I did all my signing up to stuff. However just a few days beforehand, as part of the final pre-event meal, we were informed that due to Highways, Health & Safety, and various things, crossing the road on the main carriageway was no longer an option. We would instead be using the cycle path. Considering I wasn’t having a great week, being mid mad pain patch, this was almost enough to make me not do it. But I didn’t. For starters I’d still be crossing the bridge, and a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. But more importantly I wasn’t the only one signed up to do it. Letting myself down is one thing, letting others down is most definitely an other.

Yep, Matt had decided that he was up for trying another sportive. His second. The next step up from last time’s 47 miles – to more like 62. The plan was that we would do the first leg together. Then if I was up for it I’d do the extra loop. And then we’d head back in together. Or variations on that theme anyway. So however the bridge was to be crossed, I was going to be doing it whatever.

Which brings us to another Sunday morning with, due to HQ’s proximity, a slightly later start than usual. HQ was at the Castle Combe Race Circuit, which was about an hour’s drive away in my little car, crammed to the gills with two bikes and two loads worth of kit and stuff. Less Hyundai, more Tardis 😉 I was feeling fairly rubbish, even when equally loaded to my gills with analgesia. Anyway…the sat nav, and official venue signs, got us there and into the car park easily enough. We were marshalled down the road past lots of earlier arrivals to park up on the grass in the paddock, rather further away than I usually am here. It was grey, but dry, and neither warm nor cold, and the forecast was for both better and worse, depending which one you’d read. And what’s in a forecast anyway?

Thanks to prior experience I knew the best way to deal with this sportive is to do it the pre-ride stuff in one go, with no to-ing and fro-ing. Ie: faff, get ready, sort bikes, and ride/walk to the start. Quicker and easier and less hard on the cleats. So faff we did. Easier for me than Matt though. Experience and lack of options in my case – so I ended up in the same as the recent usual. Summer kit, s/s base layer, arm warmers & gilet. However this sportive lark is still all kinda new to Matt. And not only is it new, he was also doing it on a bike new to him, with actual honest to god gears, having been persuaded of the error of his single speed ways. Well, not really, he’d just decided that that many miles might be easier done with gears first time around. So he faffed some, deciding on layers and food and stuff, and so did I. Well, to be fair, I wasn’t faffing, I was more sort of loitering because there wasn’t any rush. It was kinda weird to realise how blasé I’ve gotten about some things. Like riding 60 miles. I wasn’t even really thinking about it. Matt however was a bit nervous. Aw bless 😉

Finally we were both ready, and it couldn’t be put off any longer. A few paces across the rather long damp grass to the drier path. This soon turned into the road in which took us conveniently past a toilet block and, once a brief detour had thus been made, we were on the little wiggly path around the circuit which opened out as we reached the main venue. It felt a bit empty as there weren’t heaps of riders around, and I don’t think that was because they’d all left before us, as we weren’t running particularly late. However with the change of route, the less than fabulous weather, and the Sodbury Sportive taking place the weekend before on very similar turf, I’m guessing there weren’t as many people around as in previous years. There were certainly no queues for registration…which was good if you were Matt, and less good if you were me because they’d lost my registration, and I had to play the sign up on the day game instead. Given that that gave me number 214…I’m thinking that must be roughly how many riders ended up taking part…but I could be wrong!

Did I mention I wasn’t feeling great? Well I wasn’t. So I put myself down for the 60 mile route, which still left me the option to do the long route, but seemed more honest, and likely, and that way I probably wouldn’t have to tell the timing team, post ride, that I’d bailed. I was given my helmet timing chip, bike number and cable ties, and helped myself to a route map on the way back outside. Not being able to trim my cable ties did leave long plastic ends sort of waving around which annoyed my sense of order somewhat…but hey, not exactly a big deal. After a quick trip, on the bike, across to the toilet block a little way away, I was back, and we were ready to join the queue for the start. A short queue, which is always good when you’re nervous, and fidgety, and just keen to get going. There was no sign of Rob, who I knew was also doing it with friends of his, but he could have been ahead or behind us, or have bailed completely, so there didn’t seem any point waiting around in case he turned up. Instead we waited for our turn to be briefed by organiser Andy Cook. Well it’s run by Andy Cook Cycling so… 😉 Shortly we were on our way, and after last year it was a relief to be let go on to a dry race track to enjoy a section of the track before hitting the route proper.

However this just served to show that my indexing, all sorted and checked yesterday pre-ride, was well off when actually under way and under load. B*gger. I hoped it would settle down but…shortly after we’d left the track and joined the lanes leading away from HQ, I had to stop. Matt tried to fix it, since I’m technically inept, and he’s not, but it didn’t really help. Ah well, nowt to be done about it really, and we couldn’t hang around all day, so we set off again, ready to make the best of a bad deal. Time to ride the bikes, and head for that Bridge which, on this leg of the route, was about 24 miles away.

Quite a few bits of today’s route turned out to be from last week’s route but done in reverse. And it was a fairly direct route that took us to the Bridge. Quiet country lanes, over the M4, bypassing Yate, over the M5, through Tockington, to put it in sight. Uneventful, a bit grey, country piles, railway bridges, cute cottages. Although it was sort of essentially downhill overall, that didn’t stop there being ups, and those ups, though doable, were proving that my life was still proper painful. Marvellous. I don’t remember a lot of the route out, partly because it’s been a while since I did it, partly because it was pretty uneventful, partly because I was a bit distracted by the ouch, and partly because Matt and I were talking most of the time. I was just looking forward to getting to that bridge really, and it definitely perked me up when I spied it in the distance. Even the weather perked up, with patches of blue sky appearing. Nice 🙂

Getting on to the bridge was fairly easy. A bit of more major road, a bit of slightly circuitous cycle path, and then with no further ado we were on to the cycle path on the North side of the bridge. It’s a path you always have to be a bit careful on. There are quite a few ramps, bits of road furniture, lumps, and so forth. It quickly became clear that the same path was being used for our return route so not only were we occasionally overtaking riders going our way, we were also dodging those on their return. Still, it meant some of my “cyclists on bridge” photos had faces in them instead of behinds for a change! To our left, the South side cycle path was full of runners – since we were sharing the day and the bridge with a half marathon. The main carriageway between us was eerily quiet, with only a few highways vehicles doing whatever maintenance they’d decided they’d like to do today, with it closed, rather than letting us on it. However crossing the bridge was still lovely. I still enjoyed it. The views are great, and I waved in the general direction of my folks’ place in Portishead, and generally took my time to look around and make the most of it.

Getting off the bridge in Wales was rather more tricky than getting on it had been though…as we joined the runners, who had crossed under the road, so that we were all using the same path. The riders were on the left, the runners on the right, both nominally, with spectators on both sides. All a bit chaotic and occasionally a bit scary. When we reached the main roundabout at the end they bore right while we were marshalled through a gap in the spectators to go left onto the road, to go around and then take the exit opposite. This took us down to the first food stop, which was tagged on to the end of the runners’ event village. It was definitely time for a break. Matt had been doing really well, especially considering it was only his second sportive, on that unfamiliar bike, but refuelling was called for. So we parked the bikes on the grass, grabbed food from the range on offer, and then parked ourselves up next to them to sit on the grass in the sunshine and take 5. Or 10. Or quite probably longer.

There just didn’t seem any rush to get anywhere. I was still tempted by the Welsh hills. It would have been a lovely day to have done them – what with the sun and lack of wind. But being realistic, there was no way that was going to happen. Not today. Especially not on my own, which is how I’d have been for that loop. Given company I might have risked it…but it’s probably just as well that that wasn’t the case, as I’d more than likely have regretted it. Sometimes I beat the pain, sometimes it beats me, and today I was beaten. So we sat in the sun until it seemed like a good time to leave. First things first though – a trip to the toilets, which were a little way up the path, so rather than further trash my cleats (I must remember to get new ones) we rode there instead. And once that was done we had another go at fixing my indexing, just for fun, before setting off again. Just as we were leaving, we came across Rob who had presumably not long arrived, with his mates. After a brief chat we left them, off to do the Welsh Hills for me, and headed for the bridge again.

As expected, we retraced our steps, through the runners, and back on to the bridge. The weather was starting to look less nice, but the views were none the less impressive. There were still cyclists coming the other way, so even with all our hanging around, at least it looked like we wouldn’t be the last back to base. And the route back, though longer than the route out, was also nicer. Prettier, more pastoral, more pleasant somehow. There was also a bit more up on it, most of which came near the end when we had to go up Hawkesbury Hill. Oh, and my indexing seemed to be working now, which was a bonus.

Before that though, with Matt getting a little slower and dropping back from time to time, and with me starting to feel a little woozy and worse for wear, it was time for a fizzy orange stop. Matt spotted a little convenience store lurking in a housing estate on the edge of somewhere, and we took a break for me to drink such, as well as adding some to my bottle for continuing restorative purposes. And we stopped a little further on, to stash layers, next to a lamppost that was painted sparkly silver, which was bizarre! Somewhere after that the sparkle wore off in more ways than one as the rain came in, and came down proper and somewhere on a moor like bit we had to take a break under a tree to let it get the proper flinging it down bit over, which also conveniently let me get it together again. Yes…there was a lot of stopping going on today… There weren’t a lot of riders around to notice though, and although the signage was good, we did on at least one point wonder if we were still not the right route. However just at that point a motorcycle medic rode past, and checked we were ok with a quizzical thumps up, so that sorted that. Still, a few repeater signs wouldn’t have gone amiss… Oh, and that rain? Made me feel better about not doing those Welsh hills 😉

Right, shall we do Hawkesbury Hill then? 48 miles in, the biggest, and the last challenge of the day. I’ve done it before, knew I could do it, and actually quite like it in an odd way. It was of course new to Matt… So we split up for a bit, rather than trying to stick together as we had been. Hills are best done your own way, which in my case went fairly well. It’s longer than you think because it’s deceptive, goes up in steps, and goes around corners. It’s pretty, even when damp. And unfairly the worst section is the last. But I plodded along in my own way, and made it to the top in one piece. And although I’d left Matt behind, I didn’t have to wait that long for him to join me, though I did have enough time to take photos of the Somerset monument at the top 😉

This left us with just another 10 miles to do to get back. Which, after a bit of down hill, turned out to be pretty flat. Easy peasy. Well, ish. Probably a bit harder for Matt than me…he was definitely looking a bit tired around the edges now. The last 10 miles of a sportive are often where I speed up and head for home, but since this was about to be his longest ride, I might have left him behind, which would have been rude. Especially considering that today would have been a whole heap harder without his company and support. I did get to have a bit of a blast when we got back to the race circuit to complete the lap we’d started hours before and get to the Finish line though 🙂

Cycling time: 3:55
Official time: 4:55
Distance: 58.1 miles
Avs: 14.8 mph

So there you go. Severn Bridge Sportive done. Matt did awesome – again! As did I, all things considered 😉 There weren’t that many people around as we rolled under the Finish arch, and the wretched weather had probably put somewhat of a dampener on the Family Cycling Day element of the event. However there were still some hardy families out enjoying the circuit together, and also checking out the various bits and pieces on display. We were given our free pasta tokens, and goody bags (which contained a High5 bottle, various leaflets, High5 Protein Recovery, EnergyGel, and Energy Bar), and we walked through to park up and settle down. Even I had pasta – and it really was quite tasty, even if I didn’t eat it all. It was getting a bit chilly hanging around though so, after a chat in passing with Andy Cook himself, we headed back to the car to head home and celebrate our respective achievement and survival properly 🙂 Hopefully next year the event will be able to cross the bridge on the main road as planned…and in that case, I’ll be back to do it again 🙂

Black Rat 2016

Another weekend. Another sportive. And, amazingly, another one in company! Which makes it Sunday, the Black Rat, and Guy & Gary.

I’d not had a great week. Various sh*t had hit various fans. I’m on a new drug, along with the others, making for a different cocktail. And my usual weekend pre-sportive prep routine went to hell in a hand basket. But I was pretty cheerful when Guy picked me up around 7:00am on what was a fairly sunny morning. I was less au fait with the weather forecast than usual. Thanks to some serious incompetence on BT’s behalf I was devoid of broadband, and had been for days. (it’s back now – clearly – took 6 days though!). What I had gathered led me to believe it was going to be fairly mild, somewhat cloudy, with a chance of meatballs later. Well, a chance of rain anyway 😉 After last week’s failure to be warm, I really didn’t want to make the same mistake again – and though my kit choice may have been similar, it most definitely included leg warmers this time! Leg warmers, toe covers, shorts, s/s base layer, heavyish s/s jersey, Cyclosport arm warmers & gilet, neck collar, head tube, and waterproof for the saddle bag. I had a few other options with me too, so as to have something to debate, fret about, and faff with later though 😉

It only took half an hour to get to HQ at Clifton Rugby Club which, obviously, is NOT in Clifton…because that would be far too simple. It’s actually at Cribbs Causeway. With a nifty little detour to get around the one way street that stops getting there being too simple too. Being early we were, of course, marshalled to park nearly as far away from the club building as possible, and also on the grass. Which I remember from last year’s event – when my feet were wet before I even set off. But today the sun was still shining, and it’s not exactly a long walk, so, with Gaz having arrived ahead of us, off we all walked to register.

Which wasn’t massively well organised. The signs for which queue you should be in were a bit high up if you weren’t paying attention…and when you did figure out where you should be, there weren’t enough members of staff to deal with everyone, so the short queues were growing. Not that it took long to be dealt with when you did get there though. So…find the queue for the Granfondo – that being what I was signed up for. Quote my number, 113 as it happens, be given a laminated number including timing chip for the handlebars and two cable ties, a bit of spiel as to where tea/coffee were, and job done. Time to nip to the toilet, where there were once again queues, even for the Ladies, which however in this case was a good sign – it’s always nice to see more women at an event.

On the way back to the car, carrying my free cup of coffee, we bumped into organiser Jeremy, who recognised me, and we had a brief chat, which was nice. OK, so maybe the Cyclosport kit gave me away…;) Enough with the chatting though, time to put bikes together and debate layerage. I was already kitted out, and nothing out there was making me decide to change. It was sunny, but a little fresh, and, as previously stated, there was no way my leg warmers were coming off, even if I had to throw them away half way around if I couldn’t find anyway to stow them away! Visual checks around the car park for comparative reassurance came up short, as many were in shorts. Guy eventually decided to stick to the just shorts option and, all ready, we all headed back to HQ to mill around in the sunshine, queue for the toilets again, and take the usual photos. It felt pretty warm just standing there, but it was too late for changing now!

Today’s plan was to do the Granfondo, which entitled us to be in the first group away at 8:20am or so. There was no grand announcement, and no-one seemed to know quite what to do, so we just sort of queued, and shuffled, until the point where there was some sort of concerted movement in the right direction. Then there was Jeremy, mic in hand, officially asking us all to move forward. So we did, which brought us right up near the front, where we listened to the usual rider briefing before being sent on our way.

This initially sent us up the main road for a little bit, which felt quite busy and industrial estatey. And then we turned left and suddenly it was all countryside. Narrow country lanes, the odd bit of rolling, but pretty flat and rather nice really. And it could have remained that way all the way to the Severn Bridge, but there was a gratuitous loop to do to get there instead. This involved a short steepish up in Tockington, before going out to Alveston and back. Well the up certainly warmed me up a bit! I guess they were making sure the long route was properly 100 miles? It was less bright now, clouding over a bit, but still not cold, and we were flying along most of the time. My legs were feeling good, and we were chatting, and I had to remind me, and us, to rein it in a bit. Hurtling off at the beginning of a sportive is never a good idea!

We were also being nice, and polite. Saying hello to those we passed, be they on two wheels or on two legs, or even four. Some of the groups that passed us however… Hello? Morning? Manners don’t cost anything you know! I have to admit to the odd sarcastic remarks having passed our lips, in the directions of the posh pelotons passing us, determined to get ahead at all costs…even should that be at the cost of those they were passing! Enough p’s for you? Cos I can think of at least one more…

Time for my favourite bit. Crossing the Severn Bridge. There were some interesting bits of cycle path to be negotiated at either end, and crossing the bridge itself involves quite few ramps, metal covers, and so forth – none of which are conducive to speed – so we were slowed down somewhat despite ourselves. And we got separated by other riders too. So, on my own briefly, I bimbled a bit, and took photos, looked out across the Severn to the other bridge, and generally enjoyed it as much as I always do 🙂 Well, apart from the fact that the weather over Wales was looking a tad ominous – I wasn’t enjoying the thought of what that might mean…

Hello Wales! Wales isn’t flat. But I’ve ridden around this area a lot, not just on this event, and I know I like the climbs here. The first of which comes from the bridge up to Chepstow, through what is essentially housing estate. Lots of speed bumps, parked cars, road furniture…so no going fast, even if you could! After negotiating the centre of Chepstow, complete with traffic lights to obey, and city gates to admire while you did so, we were out the other side, on an generally upwards trend, climbing up tree covered roads. I realised I knew where I was. Which was good as, amongst all the gradual climbing, with occasional downs, there’s a little kick up to the Racecourse which, being totally prepared for for a change, I nailed 🙂 Overall I was climbing well, and also enjoying it. And after this long climb was finished, we got a long long flying downhill, down into the Wye Valley, which, again with the familiarity, I set off to enjoy. Given happy legs and this? Bliss… 🙂 I hurtled my way off, leaving the guys behind, to have a blast. All the way down to Tintern Abbey. It’s easy to fly past it, which is a shame if it happens, but as I knew it was there I stopped to both take photos and wait for my compatriots. It took a while for them to catch me, and when they did, also flying past, it took me a while, thanks to traffic and other descending riders, to get back on the road and catch up with them. Partially because I was trying to make sure to enjoy myself while I did so – it is just so pretty around there 🙂

I found the guys were waiting for me at the route split, and the long route option had us going straight on, not turning left, so as I approached Guy waved me on, and shortly we were three again, heading off into the Welsh blue yonder. Well. Not for long. It turns out Gary wasn’t feeling the love today, and he thought he’d head back and take that turning after all. B*gger. I don’t like it when groups fall apart 🙁 Guy and I decided that we were still up for the long route though – after all, that’s what I’d set out to do, and he eats miles for breakfast. So sadly there was a parting of the ways. And just two of us carried on along the Wye Valley.

As we carried on, the weather slowly deteriorated yet further, and spots of rain started falling. Just in time for the first really big climb of the day. Which made deciding what to do about waterproofs tricky. Stay dry or boil in the bag? I love this climb, up to St Briavels. Initially it’s long, and slow, and pretty, and I was really enjoying myself, even as the rain got heavier. At some point Guy stopped, probably wisely, to put his waterproof on, which inevitably made the rain go away for a bit, and left me ahead of him. Towards the end the climb gets much steeper but I even enjoyed that, and not just because lots of other people obviously weren’t enjoying it 😉 Having reached the top by pedalling, with hint of smug face, I took shelter under the large trees around the castle and church to wait for him, and take photos etc. As it turns out, I’d probably have been better off waiting for him at the food stop which turned out to be just down the road!

The town hall being used had toilets, which was great, as I needed one. There was High5 drink, and food, but that on offer, with the exception of some big pretzels, was all of the slightly limited sweet variety. I topped up my bottle, ate a pretzel, and tried to get the water off my camera and sunglass lenses… Not that I should have bothered, as not long after we set off again, the rain set off again too.

Which explains the lack of photos for quite a considerable while. It rained. It rained more. It rained a lot. It rained so much that you couldn’t get any wetter. It was almost amusing? Like, you’re throwing all this at me, but I’m not cold, I’m still pretty much flying along, I’m still loving the ups, I’m still (albeit more cautiously) enjoying the downs. It’s just water, right? I thumb my nose at thee, weather gods! It wasn’t really conducive to much chatting though; overall everyone was a bit glum. I did meet another rider, Paul Hunt, in luminous pink, at some point. He spotted my Cyclosport kit and asked if I was the Jennifer whose blogs he reads. Well, clearly I was/am, so we chatted for a little while as we rode through the rain, which was nice. Hi Paul! Even with the rain it was still oddly pretty out there. All green, the smell of wild garlic, forests of many trees… Guy and I played the elastic thing – getting separated and joining up again as the very wet miles continued. I was soaked through but feeling ok, but Guy was rueing his decision to leave his leg warmers at home, and was really cold, so we didn’t do much stopping – just kept pushing on to keep warm.

So there’s a patch in the middle of this ride that is one big wet blur…but at some point, after longer than anyone would have liked, and soaked to the skin and beyond, things started to improve a little. I’d been recognising where I was on and off, and I’m sure I missed a castle that I usually see on the way, but there was a particular village and church that I seem to photograph every time I come this way so it seemed only fair I do so again. And not long after that I realised that the wiggles and rolls had led us to a long climb that I also recognised. I think I usually call it Lydford Hill, which today Strava calls the Monmouth – Trellech Climb. Guy went on up, on his merry way, and I settled back to bimbling up in mine. Slowly, steadily, happily, enjoying the views, taking photos, and generally just getting on with it.

29 traditional shot 30 the big climb ahead

It went on and on and on, splitting left by an old pub, with various chatting to riders from time to time, and I kept going up…and with my body happy doing it’s thing, my mind sort of wandered off in thought and………with an sudden shock I woke up and realised I’d actually fallen asleep on the bike. Holy crap!!! I’ve had the shock effect happen once before, driving home from a sportive, when I drifted off on the motorway and the rumble strip woke me up. It’s like someone has thrown a bucket of cold water over you whilst simultaneously electrocuting you; waking you up, scaring you because you know you shouldn’t have fallen asleep, realising you’ve just had a very very lucky escape, and telling you that you need to be awake, and be awake NOW! I know I’ve been woozy on the bike before, but I could have sworn you can’t fall asleep on a bike. Well, you can. I am very pleased I didn’t fall off! Man, how weird is that?

So, properly awake, and more than a little freaked out, I made it up the hill, where conveniently and usefully, Guy was waiting at the second food stop. I was glad to stop, unsurprisingly, and boy did I ever feel weird. Although the sun was now out, and I was drying out a bit, I was actually getting cold, which is weird considering I hadn’t actually felt cold even when riding through the deluge. Something to do with evaporation apparently, as Guy was explaining to a fellow rider…though I had to get him to explain it to me again later when I was actually in a state to pay attention. I was feeling all wobbly and dizzy and weird and Guy actually stopped me falling over at one point; my balance was completely off.

So I took myself off to sit on a wall in the sun on my own for a bit, ate odd honey wafer things, and took some time to get myself together. The food station was running low on pretty much everything, as the guys behind the tables were chattering about amongst themselves, so there wasn’t going to be much left for anyone who came after us… And I know we’re slow but we weren’t being that slow, so there were going to be a fair few of them. In fact I’d actually been feeling really on form until the whole falling asleep thing! Feeling somewhat more human, I popped into a portable toilet for the obvious before rejoining Guy. I still wasn’t feeling right though, with mild nausea thrown in, and having not been in much pain up until now, I was now. So I took some additional pills, and even though I was feeling like I could possibly do the next half, after chatting a while, we decided that it might just not be wise for me to push it, all things considered. Guy knows his way around here, thanks to various previous events and being audax king ‘n all, and reckoned he knew some short cuts that would get us back sooner. Sadly my first century of the year was going to have to wait… Which made it time to get going again. Not before, now that the rain had stopped, I put my waterproof on, to keep me warm. I know, I’m perverse like that 😉

So we headed off, still following the route for the meantime. It was getting drier and warmer, since the best weather always comes after you’ve finished a sportive, right? 😉 I started to feel better fairly soon, but when the route split came – right for Medio/Granfondo, and straight on for Piccolofondo, I was still set on my “head for home” course. Make a decision – stick to it! This also meant, however, that we weren’t going to need to go off piste and follow Guy’s route, we could just follow the Piccolo signs home which also, being pragmatic, I reckoned would probably mean we were still covered by the event’s insurance and support. So off we went. What with it being warmer and drier now, it got nicer by the minute. It may only have been the Piccolo route but there were still a few little ups to be be dealt with, and then a really, really lovely long flying descent back to Chepstow. This put me back on familiar turf, which today felt good, as it meant I kinda knew how far I had to go. Plus, after some traffic lights, traffic shenanigans (the motorists there really weren’t our biggest fans) and some cycle path wiggling, I got to go back over the Severn Bridge again. This time in sunshine and under mostly blue skies 🙂 And very lovely it was too. Although Guy thinks we should have been able to go back on the other side, just so as not to repeat ourselves…and to get the full bridge experience of course.

Once back in Blighty, we knew the rest of the route was going to be pretty flat. Always motivational, no? Time to push on a bit then. I was now back to feeling good, and back on form. We took a brief stop at a little shop somewhere, where time was busy standing still, to purchase fizzy orange and the like. As we chatted outside, Jeremy (the organiser guy) pulled up in his car to check we weren’t lost. Which we weren’t…although to be honest, there weren’t quite enough signs today, and they didn’t stand out enough, so it could easily have happened. Having (finally!) stashed the odd layer, we carried on. Having missed the next right hand turning with Alan last year, I knew not to do it again. Besides, Jeremy was now there, standing next to his car, making sure that a) we didn’t miss this one, and that b) we didn’t miss the next one, which apparently had been being an issue. Not by now it wasn’t, as it now boasted about six arrows and also some cheerful bods pointing the way! So we turned right. As you do. Well, it would have been rude not to… 😉

Time to head for home. Which I was totally up for. In fact, my foot was on the gas, though not in a non-UCI approved way, and we fair hurtled along, for the last however many miles it was. I’m guessing at around 8 or so…? Lots of country lanes and warm sunshine, and I was having a blast. Sprint finish? 😉 Behind me Guy was heard to comment that you could tell I’d had my fizzy orange…*grin*. We even picked up a follower, who ended up clinging on to whoever’s was the rear wheel, all the way back! There was a bit of up to get us back up to civilisation, and then some suburban playing with buses to be done before there we were, back at HQ, sort of just like that. Man we flew back! 🙂 I think we’d worn our lanterne rouge out, as he sort of staggered in a little behind us, and was last seen walking away looking dejected…certainly too tired to say thank you for the tow anyway 😉

So Black Rat done. Half Granfondo, Half Piccolo. Which I’ll have you know still added up to 80+ miles, which ain’t too shabby, so there 😛 We stashed our bikes in the car, replaced the odd still damp layer with drier more civilised ones and headed back to enjoy the free pig roast, and the free cider in our free mugs. Oh and you could have a free bottle too, if you wanted one. Once again we had a bit of a chat with Jeremy who was wandering around, keeping everything under control, and fighting fires when they arose. I did tell him about the signage and the under stocked food station – it would have been rude to not say so then and then have him read it here!

Cycling time: 5:35
Distance: 81.3 miles
Avs: 14.6 mph

Overall, ignoring the obvious, I had a really good ride. I think I’m pretty much on form, and I’m definitely feeling better on the bike than I have for a couple of years. It’s just that sometimes my health issues get in the way, which is seriously frustrating! It’s also possible the new drug may be an issue too…if today is anything to go by. Anyway, the Black Rat is still a great event, mainly because the route is just lovely, and the scenery is beautiful. Not just because I get free cider at the end 😉 The organisers are great too, and I gather plans are afoot to organise it in tandem with “a large cycling club in Bristol” next year so as to have more bodies to help on the day, which sounds like a good thing. If they’ll have me, I’ll be back to do it again next year, and see if it is 🙂

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*.

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 🙂