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http://app.strava.com/rides/16646067
My mate "Urt" took 10th in a small race today.
I had two flats and finished in the last group :/
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[ame]http://ridewithgps.com/routes/127690[/ame
[/ame]Todays Appleby sportive. Was eaten alive by midges on the first big climb. Must learn to go quicker.
4 hrs 1 min, 6 mins quicker than last year. I'll take that.
Great day out.
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Chapeaux to son and his friend of Axe and Compasses publician in Braughing. Your allen keys allowed me to repair my chain. So much better then the roadies that helped me with my snapped rear detailleur last week.
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Been in Wales for two weeks so taking any opportunity to get out on two wheels. I am nominating myself for the Nobel Prize for stupidity for coming here without a jacket, I should know better.
Last weekend I went camping and mountain biking in Coed Y Brenin, they’d done at least 3 new trails since I was last there, Dragons Back being the pick of them. I did’nt have a camera but my bro took this pic with his phone which had some effect on, jaw dropping views abound.
We camped at Cae Gwyn campsite about half a mile up the road and I’d recommend it but the gnats were not so awesome.
This weekend I went out solo to explore some of the unlisted rabbit warren of country lanes round here, navigating them without a garmin is a challenge as only about 1 in 4 junctions has any signs.
http://ridewithgps.com/trips/830959
I armed myself with an OS map and headed out, but still got lost a few times, managing to do an unplanned loop within 5 miles of starting, but the views made up for it.
Then went over to Montgomery, where many moons ago I bought my first bike in an auction after withdrawing my savings from my Post Office Account. Then cycled up over Cefn Y Coed where I lived till High School age, in sheer disbelief that I used to cycle round there on my 3 speed Raleigh Bomber, which weighed about as much as your average bungalow. Useless trivia fact Julie Christie used to live just out of shot on the right of this photo.
Lovely descent from here to Abermule, then a long slog all the way up to the top of Kerry forest which was like an Alpine climb and seemed to go on forever. My regular training over the Col de la Vauxhall Bridge did not prepare me. Here is pic from the top.
Lanes were amazingly quiet but with blind corners and some shocking surfaces so slow on the descents. It felt like the Andes mountains as they even had fluffy Llamas or Alpacas or whatever these creatures are. It will never been taken seriously though as it had the most comedy run imaginable, like someone else was operating the legs a with remote control.
And then right up in the hills it rained, a lot, and after an hour I was utterly soaked and getting so cold I was shivering, in the middle of day, in August, FFS! So I had to shed my sodden jersey and cower under a tree trying to get my whole body covered in a jumper and pretend the toffee coated flapjack made up for not having a jacket. It did’nt. Eventually the rain stopped and I carried on, by the time I got home I was knackered, it felt like I’d done much more climbing that I had but was still a great day in the wilderness and I avoided having to drink my own piss, which was nice.
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The day started so well. I sipped a coffee, in the sunshine, plotting a scenic route from Exeter to Axminster, via Newton Poppleford and Seaton. It would be great. I’d even eaten! What could go wrong?
Well...
Doing some checks before setting off, I noticed that one of my cleat screws was missing, and another was hanging off. Hmm, this meant I’d done Exmouth Exodus with 1.5/3 screws. After having this pointed out to me, I went to find a bike shop. They found a spare screw for me, but discovered that the plate of my sidis was broken. They suggested I buy new shoes, or ride home barefoot. I bought new shoes.
Finally, I was ready to leave and the sun was still shining. I carried my totally overweight bike down the steps from the shop, carradice now groaning under the weight of wet clothes, broken shoes and unused swimming costumes – and in that moment, it started raining. Big, heavy, horizontal rain. Fuck you, weather.
I set off, I got lost, I sheltered under a tree. It all seemed so familiar. I rode in circles around an industrial estate. Eventually I found my way to the outskirts of Exeter and realised that I’d lost too much time with shoe-fuck-ups and getting lost to do the nice route I’d planned and would instead have to ride up the A30 and A35. Urgh.
The A30 was just as grim as I thought it might be, a dual carriageway packed with lorries driving too close to me and blaring their horns. I got pins and needles in both feet and my right hand and had to stop in every lay-by to shake out my limbs. It was unpleasant, still raining and annoyingly hilly.
When I got to Honiton, google maps told me to take a long route around the town, but I figured that I knew better and turned on to the A35. Big mistake as there’s basically a vertical road of doom leading out of Honiton. The road is also quite narrow with lots of blind corners, which meant that I soon had the following stacked up behind me: 2 lorries, a bus, 4 cars with caravans, 3 vans and several assorted cars. When they passed me they each shouted something encouraging, original and witty, like “get out of the road”, “pay some fucking road tax” or “get a car, you hippy”.
The road went on and on, and mainly up and up. It rained some more. My feet hurt. My ipod ran out of batteries. I’ve never been so happy to see the sign welcoming me to Axminster, the home of fine carpets since 1755.
30 miles but it felt like a lot more. No tears but only because my eyes were continually washed out by the driving rain. I never want to see my bike again.
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This might be a long one...
This weekend, like hats above and many others, I rode the Exmouth Exodus. Unlike many, and as I did last year, I rode on after Exmouth to Poole (on the A35, as above), and then from Poole on to London.
Unlike previous years, however, I also rode to the start of the Exmouth Exodus (Bristol) on Saturday afternoon, from Budleigh Salterton. It was also different from previous years in that this riding was being done on a loaded tandem with the forum's own tricitybendix providing the push.
To make things harder, on Thursday we had ridden to Budleigh Salterton through Dartmoor from Plymouth, which is not particularly flat at the best of times, and felt decidedly less so carrying 40kgs+ of camping equipment and clothes.
How did we end up in Plymouth? Well, with a bit of backtracking and plotting, it looks a little bit like this.
Day One
Nunhead -> Newhaven -> Dieppe -> JumiègesWe pointed our laden wheels southwards 5am on the 18th of July (tb's birthday. I couldn't help but feel there were better ways to celebrate such things but this is how we found ourselves). We inched our way towards Newhaven in the morning gloom, fighting off the cold and hoping the weather would hold out. By Layhams Lane we had got to grips with the handling of the bike under load, and by Titsey we'd had an unplanned waterbottle jettison and a thrown chain. Both issues resolved we merrily rolled with surprising speed towards the coast, being caught out by (and shamefully walking up) one steep hill and passing through a few light showers. By the ferry terminal I had managed to rack up a surprising slug deathtoll and the wind was howling. "It's always like this down here" said the passport man, "even if it's still and shining everywhere else."
He was smiling.As we waited for boarding in a bleak holding pen we spied another tandem heading the same way - this one a recumbent with trailer piloted by a Canadian couple. They were pedalling to Turkey. 50 miles under our belt and we'd already been trumped.
On the ferry, attempts to watch the day's stage of le Tour were scuppered by snoozing, and attempts to snooze were scuppered by incredibly uncomfortable chairs, but exhaustion overcame all and one long blink later we were in foreign lands and on the wrong side of the road, but the strong coastal winds blew just the same.
From Dieppe we followed the River Scie south to Auffay on a road that gently climbed as it snaked from one bank to the other through the odd small town, stopping for lunch in a quiet churchyard in Saint Victor l'Abbaye then changing course to shadow the Cailly River through Malaunay down to the Seine where we spent our first night in a rather featureless campsite in Jumièges - a town with an impressive Abbey that loomed over us as we made our dusk approach.
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No marks for not riding the bit from Santander to Plymouth. Slackers.
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Need to get another 500 miles in before 18 August. Once I've remembered how to steer.
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This week's East German town of choice was Brandenburg an der Havel. I decided on a ride from there to Potsdam, which I worked out at around 70km. I'd never been to Brandenburg before, and the stretch between there and western Berlin, taking in the Havelland countryside, lots of lakes, Potsdam, and finally Grunewald, looked like a nice one.
In the rush to catch the train after a much too leisurely breakfast, I realised I'd forgot to bring the map, and the only navigation advice I got was from my girlfriend when I told her this. "If you find an eel, it might be pointing south-west to the Sargasso Sea".
As it turned out, getting out of Brandenburg and heading towards Potsdam was really easy. The stretch of the 'Tour Brandenburg Radweg between Brandenburg and Werder was absolutely brilliant - completely smooth asphalt all the way, loads of signposts, nice and wide, and really nice countryside. Most of it completely apart from any roads. Part of me still feels odd about not cycling on roads, but this is enough to make me change my mind.
Anyway, spurred on by the perfect conditions, I probably went a bit too hard at first, and then realised that while I was following signs to Potsdam, the detour that I'd planned - going round the Schwielowsee rather than taking the ferry - added on 20km or so.
That was all pleasant enough, parts of it really beautiful, but then as soon as I got to places I'd actually been to before, I started getting lost when I really shouldn't have, and not having double-checked the map meant I missed a few turnings in Grunewald, and missed the nice Havelchaussee road altogether.
The distance, the speed, and the change of handlebars, which was supposed to have helped but actually just increased my already rather long reach and made my position even more aggressive, started to take their toll, and by the time I reached Grunewald I was suffering a bit - but only really in my upper arms.
The real sign of this came when on the traffic-free Kronprinzessinweg, I tried to adjust to a leaning-on-the-bars TT style position and ended up just swerving wildly and very, very nearly came off at speed. At this point I looked at the map, realised I was too far to go back to where I had meant to go, and that the S-Bahn station was just around the corner, and ended the ride after 69 miles.
Brandenburg an der Havel, old town centre:
FC Stahl Brandenburg - I was drawn in from miles away by the floodlights
The busiest part of the Radweg:
Food break:
Strava:
http://app.strava.com/rides/17846765Next week maybe Waren to Oranienburg
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Just got back from a long weekend visiting my parents for my mother's birthday.
I wasn't counting on good weather but it held out most of the time. Had a sun-drenched early evening 50 mile spin on Friday, and once I was out of the London surrounds it was pretty deserted out in the lanes, and it was capped by a great descent out of Mayfield where I can see the ridge where my parent's village is. It's not like I don't know that road, but I only realised that it's that long steady descent which always feels like a welcome home, and I was singing and whistling to myself like a goon.
The next morning I went for a ride I'd planned some time ago out to Birling Gap. After literally crunching (I seem to have developed a water-related pedal/cleat interface problem after the EE - "How interesting!" you say...) my way up a 'new' and rather beastly climb I bumbled around a bit of a tricky route through the East Sussex lanes to Wilmington, where I got a good eyeful of the Long Man, which was a pleasant surprise, before a short and sharp and rather exhilarating descent. Then there's another horse carved into the hillside around the corner. The tourists were lapping it up (walker everywhere), and I'd be lying if I said they didn't improve my mood. After climbing up Exceat I was beasted by the wind over Birling Gap. It's a steady climb over open coastal plains, and I was embarrasingly slow. I did take some good pictures though. Blitzed around Eastbourne and up through the flats and back into the hills and then home. It was awesome, and I saw so much different terrain in just 60 miles. Like being on safari. Eastbourne wildlife however...
Fuelled by a pub lunch (and a pint of Harveys, natch...) I rolled back to London in the late afternoon sunshine. I retraced part of a route I'd done before in the other direction, along a lane near Tunbridge Wells which looks almost untouched by traffic: the bushes encroach on the narrow road, grass and moss covers the centre. Twigs, mulch and other debris cling to the slimy surface under the boughs of low hanging trees. It was wet, even after a long hot day. Up and down it goes, over numerous ridges and furrows. I didn't really know where I was. It's pretty fucking rural, to be honest. As I descended another ridge, a green woodpecker broke from the hedgerow not 5 meters in front of me, it's lime green arse bobbing behind it's wings. It shrieked loudly. Our paths coincided, briefly. I think it was the highlight of my weekend.
Anyway. East Sussex is amazing. Between Tunbridge Wells and the coast: that's the bit you want. Judging from strava, those lanes are underused territory.
I should add I did it all with the aid of gears. Sorry. Sort of.
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75 miler today. Rode out to East Grinstead to meet some friends from my rugby club who were getting the train down (not big cyclists) then over to Redhill whilst getting lost and dallying about. They got the train back and I rode home.
75 miles, 3,000 feet and 5,000 calories.
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/212565147
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Due to a combination of an ongoing and debilitating addiction to Cadbury's Buttons, specifically the giant ones otherwise I get more cranky than usual, refining my couch le pomme abilities throughout the Olympics and then taking some well deserved recovery time afterwards at the coast from the strains of remaining stationary from their very start to end, it's been too long since I did anything worthy of the name 'ride'. As a result, my fitness has followed the instinct of a lemming. Sadly neither was today's efforts worth it, but at least I've now tried to right these many wrongs.
Witnessed my fitness? If you have, please PM for my address to kindly return it to me. By Gad, what a struggle earlier today was. On top of these elements I had to content with a newly acquired Brooks, which is as forgiving at the moment as I suspect Hitler was. The irony is that it has replaced a stripped SLR, which struggles to assert itself as comfortable on some yet to be developed posterior-scale, but I found myself almost yearning for its return from this infernal.buttock hardship, as this Colt is nowhere near on speaking terms with broken-in, so there's yet more suffering to look forward to.
Within fewer miles than I'm prepared to admit I had to take a rest at a bus-stop, due to fatigue of the arse and weariness of the body. There I sat and smoked a consolation roll-up, as I surveyed the wreckage of what my ability to comfortably ride a bike has become, while my belly fought with the limits of the stretch of my jersey. A pitiful sight. Stupidly I'd not worn any padded-shorts, as my immediate impression of my Brooks was that it had gone so far as transforming the feel of my bike, due to its spring, so I was happy we'd be cosy. We weren't, so I wanted to eat Buttons, have a pint and sulk.
Nevertheless, up I got to sit on this blasted rock of a saddle some more. The ride passed mostly without incident, except I've learned that what I had already realised was going to be an ordeal as a first step in recovering the fitness I'd allowed to drift by, was much more difficult than anticipated, as is the overall task itself. I'd planned on riding 50 miles, pretty much my default distance, but I found myself exhausted before this. I've set myself further back than I thought, but that will change once the frequent miles become a familiarity again, as they must now.
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^ I feel your chocolate button angst but a mans gotta have some reward on a ride, and salad isn’t it. I’ve had a few weeks now of my folks fresh raspberries, blackberries and strawberries which would be healthy is they didn’t go so damn well with ice cream, meringue and whipped cream. Droooool. I know I’ll never be 55kg hill whippet so I’m embracing the lard…..in my mind I’m a 55kg hill whippet with the added safety feature of 30kg of extra winter insulation/crash padding. Alas every ride I do round here has hills that make that lifestyle choice seem a huge mistake.
http://ridewithgps.com/trips/862017
More most definitely geared country lane exploring, Short ride not just due to pudding addiction but I did’nt leave till 2pm. Whilst you lot basked/burned it was raining here till then, no surprise there. But as I got to England I saw some sun and it lasted till I got back .First ride up over the Kerry Ridgeway from Bishops Castle to Sarn, single lane, variable surface erring on the side of shite but a blissful 7.6 miles run with no cars in either direction and glorious views that my shit camera did’nt do justice.
Despite not seeing a car I still managed to get hassled by a walkers Jack Russell but no damage done, bloody yappers are proving to be my nemesis round these parts rather than the inclines.
Going to try and do the Stiperstones and Long Mynd before returning to the smoke.
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I took the classic Forum Route to Cambridge, starting at 7 am on Saturday. I just can't believe what a beautiful day it was. Since I sort of led a few chaps out on the same route the weekend before I didn't need the cribbies, just did it by memory which is a big achievement for someone with such a poor sense of direction. Rode about 20 mins with a chap doing a loop out around Furneaux Pelham on his fly-ass Cervelo, really lovely guy - Jess. Bike bond bromance.What beautiful lanes, crazy blue sky, cut hay and could simply smell the heat coming off the fields. It's not often that the sun is so strong it feels like weight on your arms. Things got emotional for me at about the 40 mile mark - it felt like it was too good to be true. My bro would be proud I think.
Got to Cambridge Station for 11:30, meaning that with the odd water stop and GPS encouragement it only took me a little over 4 hours on the bike (70 miles) to get there. Feeling strong these days.Most importantly it's inspired me to lead a Forum ride out there so watch that space. I forgot to take photos other than the one on the train back. You can't the the beer I was drinking or the looks I was getting - the smell must have been terrible.
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Oh so a read through this page makes me think I need to edit out 'strong' and insert 'WEAKLING SMURF LIKE WEENIE LEGS' instead. The milage and epicness of the rides posted on this page are inspiring and/or frightening
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I fail at bikes.
I decided to ride solo to Brighton on Saturday following this route https://maps.google.co.uk/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&hl=en&msa=0&msid=215086113944960465292.00048167d077a174c2ce3&z=9 which, if memory serves, may have been posted hereabouts by TheorySwine a while ago. It's a lovely route and I recommend it's pretty, rural awesomeness to one and all.
Sub 60 miles isn't a problem for me at all these days. I'm poor in a headwind and I'm no lover of hills but the rolling lanes of southern England couldn't be too much for me could they? I mean this was London - Brighton, the traditional spring challenge of fair weather riders and once a year charity adventurers. Ok it was hot... really fucking hot! But Wrongcog y u so shite? A friend said he had to keep stopping on Saturday to check his brakes weren't rubbing such was the lead in his legs. I really know what he means!
I'd done alright. I felt permanently dehydrated from the off but I kept rolling on, I rode with a couple of lads on much lighter and slicker machines than mine through Ardingly, getting jealous comments as I noshed on a choc ice. Then I put some pace on / took a bit of a different route to them and must have arrived at the foot of Ditchling Beacon before them. Tired and as I said, no lover of geology I glanced up at it and thought come on old bean, you'll hate yourself if you dont drag yourself up there... I got half way and ground to a painful wheezy halt. Caught my breath, climbed back on and went another 200 yards - and that was it. I was fucked. I had to walk. Shuffling up the hill hoping the ground would swallow me up. Then from behind comes the unmistakable whisp of tyres on Tarmac. One of my road chums from Ardingly spun past on his granny ring. "You shouldn't have had that choc ice" he said. How charitable of him to assume that was the source of my humiliating weakness. As we chatted on the top minutes later he offered more solice. "That's a pretty heavy ride to drag up there mate! And your gearing is pretty unforgiving" (yes forum I was geared and I still couldn't do it). I smiled, but I was pissed off. I recalled Digger's advice when I asked him about fitting a bigger cassette to my bike to prevent such humiliation. He just said "push down harder on the pedals". Sage advice.
Curse the heat, curse my shitty lungs and my pathetic legs, curse my alcoholic, tobacco consuming 20s, curse my neglect of bike rides and two wheeled adventures until two years ago. And curse Ditchling. Curse every other fucker who arrived at the top of that hill on two wheels as opposed to clicking along on their cleats. Bollocks bollocks bollocks!
As I rolled to my destination somewhere near the 7 Dials I felt properly narked! How can so many find slopes so easy? Back to the forgiving Essex villages for me. A future of touring on a triple around Norfolk and Lincolnshire for me.
What
andy.w
Wrongcog
fussballclub
blue_fleet
jadias
hats
rogan
6pt
Oliver Schick
Object
tricitybendix
skinny
tbc
pastry_bot
lemonade
stevo_com
TheorySwine
youramericanlover
hippy-
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As much quality German cheese as you can fit in with that much effort.
Imo perfect gear inches choice there nice one.
Great report.