hĭll n. Natural elevation of earth’s surface, small mountain. © The Concise Oxford Dictionary, 1976
hĭll n. Natural elevation of earth’s surface where everyone on a bicycle ride overtakes the ride leader. © The Bird Dictionary, 2012
Reassuringly the one thing the weather forecast had 100% accurate was the direction and speed of the wind. Everything else in the forecast was mere probabilities. So much for Met Office super computers. Sounds like they need some new ones.
Having ridden four rides last year with Friday Night Rides to the Coast from London to various seaside destinations and enjoyed them, the thought of doing something similar from Reading struck me as a bit of a challenge. Impressively, 16 other people also decided that it was a challenge worth trying and we met at the Fount in Caversham before midnight to the sound of a band playing in the club on the other side of the Thames. Not, then, the usual start to a ride from the Fount.
Having briefed everyone about the route and the need to tame eyeball burning back lights (thanks David) we set off through the town centre partly to satisfy my evangelical zeal to show everyone that cycling is a normal and everyday activity. The lady at the lights at London Street however wasn’t convinced.
“What are you doing on your bikes at this time of night?”
“Errm...we’re going an a bike ride”
“Where?”
“Portsmouth”
“Portsmouth!!!! Well....”
I missed the last of her informed opinion but I’m sure it was to show how suitably impressed she was at our ambition and daring-do. Or maybe not.
Once safely through Whitley and over the magnificent structure of the M4 J11 cycle and footpath which carries you high over the junction we swiftly moved into the darkness through Spencers Wood, Riseley and Hook with barely another road user sighted for the next few hours.
From Hook we climbed up to RAF Odiham pausing briefly to admire the ability of the forces ability to party – well it was noisy where I was waiting. And then the longest climb of the night to the Golden Pot from South Warnborough. Hills, see definition of hill above, really do seem more easier at night. Perhaps the Tour de France should introduce a night stage in the Alps; I’m sure Mark Cavendish would be pleased.
A swift descent from the Golden Pot into the fairly quiet town centre of Alton and through the high street the wrong way and into our first shower of the night to Selborne. Amazingly my chosen 3 a.m. stop of the National Trust car park had illumination and an unlocked toilet door. Flasks of all type were opened and Chris was generous with his bread pudding and easily persuaded to share the recipe. Sadly I’ve failed to memorise it.
After Selborne we hit more hills (yes, see definition of hill above again) through dark narrow lanes the condition of which manifested themselves later in 3 separate punctures at various times and a freedom-seeking mudguard from which Terry “Dodgy Digit” Davis had to put up with my Florence Nightingale skills later at the breakfast stop.
This part of the route together with the almost complete lack of traffic almost all the way has convinced me that I should be bolder in road choice for the next ride and avoid the narrow country lanes in favour of the traffic-free main routes.
By this time dawn was breaking and bird-song accompanied us into East Meon where an extended break was needed to give time to fix the last of the 3 punctures. And a pretty place to hang about it was.
On to Clanfield and over the A3 where the rain really did decide to fulfil the forecast. And down it came. Buckets, cats and dogs. We battled on and did a bit of impromptu, improvised route re-planning to reduce the miles. Between Paul’s GPS and my soggy map we managed to re-route and come through Rowlands Castle and then onto Havant.
At first, given the rain, I re-planned to go direct on the main road over to Hayling Island but as the rain eased I then fell back to Plan A of following the Hayling Billy line (part of NCN2) through Havant and under the A27 which was very pleasant for a Sustrans route. Problem was I’d lost sight of the end of the ride and the freedom seeking mudguard had finally got away leaving the capable back-markers to sort it out whilst a few of us enjoyed a coffee at the south end of Langstone Bridge. Chris seemed pleased to have bagged another bit of bike to add to the collection he carried; it’s possible he had almost a spare bike judging from the size of his panniers.
We pushed on and the waymarkers did a great job to route the ride through West Town to the ferry. Mr Ferry Man was very patient to wait until the ride were all aboard. At £3 per person for a 158 second boat ride I can understand his patience. It must be one of the most expensive per metre ferries in the country.
And then the final challenge of a head-wind all along Southsea esplanade across the common, through Old Portsmouth to the Caffee Bar Feed where we had breakfast. Well some of us did after ordering, some of us had to re-order, some of us had to question the bill. Sorry for not checking out the toilet situation.
Thanks to the back-markers for bringing up the rear of the ride and their superior mechanical and load carrying abilities. Thanks to those way-markers who I un-ceremoniously dispatched at various junctions throughout the ride to wait until the end but who kept the ride moving.
And hats-off to Nick “The Bench” Clark who eschewed the train option to ride back to Reading with a glorious tail-wind in somewhat less hours than it took us going the other way.
Photos from Paul and Naomi.
Photos and video from Ian.
Next night ride. September. Lymington. Date to be finalised.
Thanks for making this a memorable ride.
Simon
hĭll n. Natural elevation of earth’s surface where everyone on a bicycle ride overtakes the ride leader. © The Bird Dictionary, 2012
Reassuringly the one thing the weather forecast had 100% accurate was the direction and speed of the wind. Everything else in the forecast was mere probabilities. So much for Met Office super computers. Sounds like they need some new ones.
Having ridden four rides last year with Friday Night Rides to the Coast from London to various seaside destinations and enjoyed them, the thought of doing something similar from Reading struck me as a bit of a challenge. Impressively, 16 other people also decided that it was a challenge worth trying and we met at the Fount in Caversham before midnight to the sound of a band playing in the club on the other side of the Thames. Not, then, the usual start to a ride from the Fount.
Having briefed everyone about the route and the need to tame eyeball burning back lights (thanks David) we set off through the town centre partly to satisfy my evangelical zeal to show everyone that cycling is a normal and everyday activity. The lady at the lights at London Street however wasn’t convinced.
“What are you doing on your bikes at this time of night?”
“Errm...we’re going an a bike ride”
“Where?”
“Portsmouth”
“Portsmouth!!!! Well....”
I missed the last of her informed opinion but I’m sure it was to show how suitably impressed she was at our ambition and daring-do. Or maybe not.
Once safely through Whitley and over the magnificent structure of the M4 J11 cycle and footpath which carries you high over the junction we swiftly moved into the darkness through Spencers Wood, Riseley and Hook with barely another road user sighted for the next few hours.
From Hook we climbed up to RAF Odiham pausing briefly to admire the ability of the forces ability to party – well it was noisy where I was waiting. And then the longest climb of the night to the Golden Pot from South Warnborough. Hills, see definition of hill above, really do seem more easier at night. Perhaps the Tour de France should introduce a night stage in the Alps; I’m sure Mark Cavendish would be pleased.
A swift descent from the Golden Pot into the fairly quiet town centre of Alton and through the high street the wrong way and into our first shower of the night to Selborne. Amazingly my chosen 3 a.m. stop of the National Trust car park had illumination and an unlocked toilet door. Flasks of all type were opened and Chris was generous with his bread pudding and easily persuaded to share the recipe. Sadly I’ve failed to memorise it.
After Selborne we hit more hills (yes, see definition of hill above again) through dark narrow lanes the condition of which manifested themselves later in 3 separate punctures at various times and a freedom-seeking mudguard from which Terry “Dodgy Digit” Davis had to put up with my Florence Nightingale skills later at the breakfast stop.
This part of the route together with the almost complete lack of traffic almost all the way has convinced me that I should be bolder in road choice for the next ride and avoid the narrow country lanes in favour of the traffic-free main routes.
By this time dawn was breaking and bird-song accompanied us into East Meon where an extended break was needed to give time to fix the last of the 3 punctures. And a pretty place to hang about it was.
On to Clanfield and over the A3 where the rain really did decide to fulfil the forecast. And down it came. Buckets, cats and dogs. We battled on and did a bit of impromptu, improvised route re-planning to reduce the miles. Between Paul’s GPS and my soggy map we managed to re-route and come through Rowlands Castle and then onto Havant.
At first, given the rain, I re-planned to go direct on the main road over to Hayling Island but as the rain eased I then fell back to Plan A of following the Hayling Billy line (part of NCN2) through Havant and under the A27 which was very pleasant for a Sustrans route. Problem was I’d lost sight of the end of the ride and the freedom seeking mudguard had finally got away leaving the capable back-markers to sort it out whilst a few of us enjoyed a coffee at the south end of Langstone Bridge. Chris seemed pleased to have bagged another bit of bike to add to the collection he carried; it’s possible he had almost a spare bike judging from the size of his panniers.
We pushed on and the waymarkers did a great job to route the ride through West Town to the ferry. Mr Ferry Man was very patient to wait until the ride were all aboard. At £3 per person for a 158 second boat ride I can understand his patience. It must be one of the most expensive per metre ferries in the country.
And then the final challenge of a head-wind all along Southsea esplanade across the common, through Old Portsmouth to the Caffee Bar Feed where we had breakfast. Well some of us did after ordering, some of us had to re-order, some of us had to question the bill. Sorry for not checking out the toilet situation.
Thanks to the back-markers for bringing up the rear of the ride and their superior mechanical and load carrying abilities. Thanks to those way-markers who I un-ceremoniously dispatched at various junctions throughout the ride to wait until the end but who kept the ride moving.
And hats-off to Nick “The Bench” Clark who eschewed the train option to ride back to Reading with a glorious tail-wind in somewhat less hours than it took us going the other way.
Photos from Paul and Naomi.
Photos and video from Ian.
Next night ride. September. Lymington. Date to be finalised.
Thanks for making this a memorable ride.
Simon
