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No this was Theydon Mount. I was impressed by how well marshalled it was. Didn't see any testers though.
I did Theydon Mount last weekend.
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Er, yeah, so my weekend ride was c.20 miles on a Tweed run recce on Saturday morning, so made up for it today by heading out into the Essex lanes (again) this time in search of hills.
There are some surprisingly decent ones if you know where to look. Went west towards the reservoirs at the bottom of Epping Forest then up to High Beech via Mott St, then Claypit Hill, Upshire, tried to take a look at Copped Hall but it was closed off, then Crown Hill, Ivy Chimneys, Fiddlers Hamlet, Toot Hill, Stonden Massey, Blackmore, Highwood, Writtle before stopping in Chelmsford.
Edit: Meant to say thanks to TheCatMan, whose route further up thread I shamelessly stole lots of ;)
[ame]http://ridewithgps.com/routes/315735[/ame
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Went out on Jaygee's route dispite him being ill. 26.1km/h average, 102km travelled, Max 68.1km/h!
Went on a look around Kent. Some disgusting hills. Bastard rise or something of the sort.
4 new faces, 1 familiar one. All super sound.
Cheers Gustav for dragging me back to the Peloton after my mechanical.
Cheers Gary for the drama when I rear ended you and went over the bars into a ditch!!!
Bike cleaned, chicken in oven, Happy days!Wish I'd know there was others going out, After Jay pulled out I went round on me own!
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I've noticed some shoddy ride reports slipping in here of late...like 'garmin stats only' shoddy.
Guilty as charged. Saturday was a great day to take the usual ride over to Epping for some hill work. Mott Street was the main event, slowly rising up from the Lippets Hill junction to the short sharp ramp under the trees that saw the rear wheel slipping on a surface still slighty greasy despite the spring sunshine, resisted the urge to spin out too much on the short shallow stretch in the middle and then got on the gas again up to where the school sign signals the really steep part is about to begin but the end is in sight. Added a bit of spice with a left turn at the top, quick drop down, right and right again to take Wellington Hill back up to High Beech. Went straight through High Beech and down Claypits at speed, trying unsuccesfully to keep hands off the brakes through the two fast right handers. Upshire was its usual deceptive self, drag up, steep bit then drag up again to the top. Crown Hill proved again a good test, its not so long or steep but relatively rare in this area in that it crests onto a long flat (if badly surfaced) straight, always a good challenge to pick up your speed as you crest and keep up the pace on the flat to Epping Road - I more or less managed that on Saturday, the competitive edge in the group that creeps in this time of year providing just the right impetus. A right onto Epping Road then a left at the first roundabout, dropped down real quick (no setting off the speed camera this time though) into Theydon Bois, a hard left into Piercing Hill, the first little rise after the left turn taken out of the saddle carrying as much pace as possible from the descent (accompanied by a shout of 'give it some' from WVM in stationary traffic on other side of the road - obviously not trying hard enough), settled back down in the saddle for part 2 - a nice steady rise to a short sharp (badly surfaced at the bottom) drop to lead onto part 3 - the longest section that eventually delivered us up to the right hand turn and fast descent down Ivy Chimneys road and into Fiddlers Hamlet. Theydon Mount was the last real steep bit from here but was pretty much over before I’d realised that it had ramped up. The Abridge section was a last minute addition to take advantage of the best conditions of the year so far and a chance for the longish, steady, never too steep, climb up Hoe Lane to Lambourne End. One final little slog up Oak Hill Road and Tysea Hill and it was back to the gentle flattish countryside Essex is famous for. Felt good after 60 miles and having broken off from the rest of the group time-trialled the last 6 or 7 miles home at an average of just under 22.5mph. A pretty much perfect day's riding.
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Being naturally exercise-shy and hardly fleet of foot, and having read the calls for more description of rides in this thread, which I agree with, I’d just like to say that my brief exposition above into the delights of my our first ride to b/right/on was written on the train on the way home, on an iphone with their daft useless keypad things, hands trembling, beer inviting, eyes of red. It was all I could muster. I was kaput. Finished, in anyone’s money. So now, having come through the other side, the unedited version.
It was arranged on a whim that we cycle down, as Yas was to visit her dad and sister who both live in b/right/on, as it was her birthday this weekend. We planned to take the train and our bikes along, to have a little jolly once there. But with the best of British and half-Turkish we declared ‘Sod it’, and looked up bike routes online. The one I favoured for some reason wouldn’t print out, or something, so we found another more meandering (I think) route spread across 4 pages of a map, beginning in Sutton. Yas successfully printed this out and turned up at mine on Sunday morning at a time when in a previous life I’d normally be rolling home, eyes bulging. We set off a little behind schedule, 8.10, bound for Sutton, with an empty LMNH drinks bottle, some Laduree macaroons, Minstrels, Mars bars and optimism for company. And tobacco.
Never been to Sutton before, nothing to recommend it so far as I could see. We took a little rest there, poured Ribena into the drinks-bottle and smoked a couple of roll-ups. Ate some sugary bits. We were still keen. We set off again, along a dire road it must be said, where we both found the rest had not allowed us to recuperate at all – in fact, it had done the opposite. The first struggle then, so soon as to be entirely unexpected. The weather closed in too. A man on a crappy old mountain bike, on his lowest gear and with a rear tyre submerged into the road, maybe at 20 psi if he was lucky, rode past us as if we weren’t moving. Perhaps we weren’t; stationery, like a stubborn dog which refuses to move further on its walk. How was he doing this, this riding a bike thing? Why did I feel tired? I ride a long way each week; wasn’t I getting fitter? Anyway, bugger him, we eventually caught up with him, only for him to take us back when we took maybe the 10th of what seemed like thousands of map consulting sessions. It must be said, Yas was superb with navigating, while I was superb with looking pretty. I got us to Sutton, which is South of the river after all and I live in West London, so I was satisfied enough with that.
Anyway, time for the first bit of fun – Dorking Road I think it was, which made us feel like we’d finally slipped the grip of The Big Smoke and were Somewhere Else. Great descents and corners, sweeping away, bags of fun, point the bike in a direction and let it go; damn it felt fine. Things were looking up. The next hour or so was spent marvelling at the delights of the Great British Countryside, rolling fields and animal noises, gulping in clean, refreshing air, sat atop a bicycle. This is what we’d signed-up for, this feeling of powering yourself to a different place, in all senses of the expression. While the first page of our map had been mostly busy crap, the second page had us pass through places with 1 bus a week and no public telephones. Nice to visit, couldn’t possibly lay my hat there though. On another stretch of lanes a farmer was busying himself with what farmers do, whatever that may be, while his dog looked on. What a scene it was. As we passed though the dog took a great dislike to our first intrepid traveller, me, and ran at me growling and barking. I laughed, sure he’d soon tire of it. He ran alongside me however for longer than I’d have liked, and I began to fear for my ankles. This dog meant business. I could hear the faint farmer’s cry of ‘Lucky, Lucky’, as he tried in vain to summon his dog home and prevent his attack on me. Stupid bloody terrier. Anyway, Lucky gave up after a while and ran back to his home, passing Yas without so much as a look in her direction. His problem was entirely with me. I did not feel like Nature Boy. I felt alien out here, wherever it was.
Time ticked on, while our progress seemingly didn’t. Yes we were moving, we were certainly on the go, but time seemed to race ahead, mocking us. ‘Keep pedalling though, just keep pedalling’, through this bloody quicksand that engulfed us, I thought. Pretty pubs cropped up here and there, and I longed to go in and sample too much local brew, smoke and listen to men with pork-chop sideburns put the world to rights. I’d have joined them, whether they’d like it or not. But there was no time, we needed to arrive in b/right/on at a reasonable hour so as to do the family birthday thing. My Ribena offered not much by way of consolation. We took a rest come the end of each page of our route, which for the first 2 pages had both been at a railway crossing. At the end of page 2 we broke out the macaroons and guzzled a can of coke between us. It was a refreshing pit-stop thankfully. We didn’t know what was in store for us though on page 3. It started well enough, in fact it began with another memorable road, whose name I forget, but it was high up, long and flat, with stunning views. We acknowledged passing cyclists, wondering where they were headed. Then the weather took a serious turn for the worst. It hammered it down. Our height didn’t help, and off in the distance we could see brighter skies, but for 20 minutes or so we got thoroughly kippered. Bravely, or foolishly, we just carried on, refusing shelter. We were driven. Perhaps crazed. My new Rapha cap was soaked. So was the rest of me. Water dripped from the end of my nose, and my glasses were steamed up and covered in rain-smears. I couldn’t see much, but I could feel plenty, and I didn’t much like what I felt. The first mutterings of whether we should get the train surfaced, but we were both certain that would be a cop-out we’d later regret. We stuck it out, and eventually the rain passed. We were sodden though, right through.
Hours had now passed, and we had a full page of our route to get through. I had dropped into a puny gear I never use, but it felt so stiff. Yas, riding fixed, didn’t have the luxury of my gears, but I couldn’t fathom how even on a flat road cycling had become such hard work. My regular gear was simply out of the question. It was beyond me. We made a wrong turn, our first mistake. We stopped by the side of the road, and a motorist pulled alongside to enquire whether we were OK. Lying, we told him we were. This pain-cave, it’s real. We were submerged in it. He drove off. Damn him, damn him to hell, in his quick, motorised vehicle. It was tough. I rode back to look at the road-sign, and saw that we were heading for the A23, right into b/right/on. Screw the map, it had served us well, but this road ended up where we wanted to be. That was all we needed to know, so off we went again. Finally, some civilisation. A petrol station. For hours it had been chickens, sheep and crazed terriers. We went in and stocked up on Ginsters and Walkers ‘finest’, devouring it all in stony silence. We hadn’t brought enough food, and we were both ravenous. Then, some good news. Another sign informed us that b/right/on was a mere 7 miles away. 7 miles. That’s less than my 1 way journey to work. This was glorious news. Trouble was this was the A23 where we had no right to be, but there was a cycle-path alongside. We set off with renewed determination, and glimpsed the city off in the distance. We were nearly there.
Finally, we passed a sign welcoming us to Brighton & Hove. I raised my hand in victory. Yas made a joyous sound. We’d done it. After another half an hour we pulled up at her sister’s pub. It was 5.05. We’d been on the go for 9 hours. I couldn’t believe how long it had taken us. Scrub an hour off that for the times we rested, and about 45 minutes for route checking, and you’re left with our journey time. For sure it’s not the route the forum take on these rides, as we missed Ditchling altogether, although we rode along Ditchling Road once in town. We went to another pub where some of Yas’s family had gathered, and I was delighted to find it served Hoegaarden. There could have been no greater gift than this. I was parched. Then, a moment of thanks from the gods of something or other. In my bag I had precisely, to the penny, enough for 2 pints of the stuff. It was meant to be. They tasted good. The roast chicken did not. Today though I’ve been dismayed to find that according to google pedometer, b/right/on is exactly 48.543 miles from my home, and our start-point, albeit in a straight-line. Surely it’s more? Anyway, we’d obviously not ridden in a straight line, but I know not of how many extra miles can be added to our ride. It was a funny old route. Glorious in places, in fact most of it was all very pretty, but like I said before, a field is a field. They’re nice, but I can’t get overly excited about them after the sixth hour. I’d like to try another route. It was quite a day. I saw the sea. I did not get fish and chips. We had no mechanicals at all, other than mental. The bikes kept us going, just like we kept them going. Mine felt glorious throughout, the saddle I picked up at the LMNH jumble passing its first long-ride test. We’ve signed-up for the Cambridge ride. It’s further than b/right/on. Maybe I’ll sell my bikes.
Got a Garmin trail for that?
It sounds as if you went much further than the distance you computed there. Brighton is usually between 50-60 miles, depending on which route you take. I always recommend Simon Legg's FNRttC route. I think it's by far the best.
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Oliver, here
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Got a Garmin trail for that?
I knocked up a GPX that pretty much follows that freewebs route but starting at my gaff in SE8
Its 58.3 from Deptford and a blooming nice ride too.
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Our route yesterday is one of my favourite TR's. I believe it's good for the ride to have a* denouement* - a point where it becomes clear who is the strongest - after which everyone can relax a bit. On this one it's the second major climb - the one up to Stokenchurch. It's not steep, but there are nearly two miles of it and since we've already done about 45 fairly hilly miles it's usually enough to sort out the real hard men. Although the road here is the main A 40 there are amazingly few cars on this section, presumably because it's so close to the M 40.
However in these days of super bikes I'm beginning to wonder if I shouldn't make things a bit more challenging by leaving the B4009 at Chinnor and doing the much harder ascent of Chinnor Hill to Bledlow Ridge. One disadvantage would be that I would be so far off the back I wouldn't see any of the action.That climb up to Stokenchurch is lovely isn't it? I have to admit I've only done it once, but it remains one of my favourite climbs, just keeps on going, not too steep, just sit up and keep the pedals turning.
The climb up from Chinnor to Bedlow ridge is another good one. Steeper, fairly long, and you have to work hard at the bottom to keep pace up for the steeper section.
You could also turn left at Kingston Blount and go up Kingston Hill. You'll come out at the top of the hill up to Stokenchurch (Aston hill), so you can rejoin your original route easily. -
How does a Wednesday commute count as a weekend ride? 7 day weekend?
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Back from the FNRttC Southend Run....
HPC to Southend Sea Front....
Absolutley Knackered but at least i've started to warm up...
Frost on the Bike and Pannier after the early morning Tea & Cake Stop...
A well organised day out.And Next the Wiggle "No Excuses" Sportive Tomorrow....
think I'll do the 44 Miler after last night. -
Oliver, here
Cheers, Paul. That was actually meant as a silly joke. :)
I knocked up a GPX that pretty much follows that freewebs route but starting at my gaff in SE8
Its 58.3 from Deptford and a blooming nice ride too.
Interesting. That uses parts of two routes that I've done in the past.
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Wot Nigel182 said minus the bit about the sportive and the 44 miler.
My flat commute was no prep for the gradients we went up but the downward bits were way fab. My legs are stronger than I realised but my lungs weren't happy.
I've now had 2 hours kip and about to knock back some coffee as I feel 'drunk' but daren't sleep any longer in case I'm awake til all hours later.
Bognor here I come.
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119.9mi circular route around Suffolk Coastal. Century in 7h04m but forgot to press start on my Garmin after a quick break for a rest!
Bonked pretty hard at 75mi but pushed through and felt great for the rest of the ride.
Ran into Ipswich CC on a recce for tomorrow's road race. Nice to meet you all. Bit let down that you had your bikes propped up outside a pub but were buying coffee in a coffee shop across the road HTFU!
pastry_bot
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Fox
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TheCatMan
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Tell us about your weekend ride
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Jesus, I couldn't do that. Seriously. Ask Oli, he will verify. Should have asked if you were about today, had the day off. Just got back from lots of Essex lanes.