Seeya! - arallsopp does the LEL

[arallsopp]

Am very happy to concede the jersey to Aran and Ianrauk, for their continued and steadfast mile eating.
Yellow jersey should not go to a one hit wonder

I'll happily settle for a little yellow stitching on my pillow, a key fob, and sore knees.
Thanks all for your support. You'll never know how important it is to me.

 

[Aperitif]

About time you showed up.

Well done mate.



Yes...



...nutjob.

 

[arallsopp]

Didn't see Brian this morning. Last I caught him, he was sporting a back wheel that looked like a child's drawing.
...Of an egg.

Was getting sorted by the very excellent volunteers at the next control though. I'd imagine he rolled in somewhere around 3 this morning.
Lea Valley was all funny walks and dismantled bikes, and he may have been in the fray.

 

[4F]

Indeed well done fruitcake

 

[Wigsie]

Can only echo the praise (and nut job statements) of those on here, well done... legendary effort!

Too soon to enquire about what you are going to do to top that?

 

[Crackle]

I'll just added my generally astonished praise at your effort, especialy in light of the mechanicals: Amazing.

 

[Auntie Helen]

Well I suppose I could mention here that I'm vaguely planning doing a CycleChat group ride along the Mosel River in Germany in mid-May (probably 2 weeks, could possibly squeeze it into 1 week if necessary). That wouldn't be very far per day (50 miles) but being in Foreign Parts might count for something!

 

[Baggy]

Arallsopp, all I can say is "chapeau"

 

[arallsopp]

Hey! The ride has just been made 'official'. Evey advises we are about to depart for IKEA.
Knew there was something missing from a post ride fug.

Starting to shuffle thoughts into a ride report. Family time first, then semi disposable flat pack assembly, then sleep, then write up.
Is it wrong to wear a S/S LEL jersey with jeans when shopping? Its clean, if that helps.

 

[arallsopp]

Right. Enough of this. I'm starting to forget the ride. This is not good with no ride report in place. Time to address things... Normal service will be resumed shortly.

 

[arallsopp]

LEL: Day 1. A late start

1030hrs Sunday morning, and I'm loading the bike onto the roof of a friend's car. He's agreed to whizz me around the M25 to the kickoff at Lea Valley, Cheshunt. Evey, Teddy, and the inlaws follow in our car (which is roomy enough for the bent and us, but not with the extended family along for the ride). This bit goes like clockwork. 1300hrs I arrive at Cheshunt and refuse to be utterly freaked out by the national teams present. The Greeks look friendly. The Italians have an entourage of support vehicles and mechanics. The Dutch are mostly horizontal. Excellent. The field of around 600 riders will set off in two tranches, one centred around 8am, the second at 2pm. I'm due to set off around 1415hrs, so there’s plenty of time to play with Ted, try to relax, have a worry wee, etc.

I spend a few happy minutes wandering around Lea Valley, checking out kit. I’m keeping an eye out for people I might know who are on the ride. GerryC is one, who I met on the FNRttCs . No sign. I do find a bent with a yacf buff aboard, and a little detective work in their forums soon puts a name to Rich Forrest.

Looks like Gerry set off in the 0800 slot. Oh well, I’ll join Rich when my time comes. Lovely. Fast forward 10 minutes. I'm in the loos, and I hear the 'clack clack' of a cleated rider on tile enter behind me (fnarr if you must). That's odd... Why am I not making the same noise? Look down. TRAINERS! Sh1t. Bad bad bad. Right. Exit loo. Find family. Explain.

1330hrs, and I'm holding the baby, entertaining the inlaws, and watching buddy and wife plough through a cloud of dust and tire smoke. The repmobile surges forwards in a manner entirely unlike a big grey Honda, and once the gravel settles, has gone.

45 minutes to get to Bromley and back. Hmmm.. Took us an hour and a half to get here. This may not be an auspicious kick off. I wander over to the official start with Ted, and watch massed groups set off in 15 minute intervals. After 1400hrs, each group gets considerably smaller. By 1440hrs, its just me, a group of Catalans (Catalonians?) who outnumber their bikes, and (belatedly) a long haired scouser who seemed to think the massed ride would set off at 3. I take some confidence in this. At least I knew what time I was supposed to leave, even if I’m running late

I look up to see an indiscriminate family saloon get airborne on the level crossing, maintain speed whilst turning into the station car park balanced solely on the driver side front wheel, brake late, and fling open the doors. I'm expecting Starsky and Hutch, or at least Mssrs Clarkson and Hammond, but the first figure I pull out of redshift is my wife. In her hand, my shoes. This is suddenly looking better.

Their arrival garners a round of applause from the remaining onlookers (cyclists cheer a car for erratic driving? Got to be a first!) and I grab the shoes, point the bent at the starting line, collect the aforementioned longhairedscouser, and set off.

 

[arallsopp]

Sunday 1445hrs: Miles ridden: 0. Your time starts NOW.

OK. Off the line. LongHairedScouser in tow, GPS working lovely, few too many speedhumps for my choice of route, but its drawing me out of town and towards Edinburgh. Suburbia drops somewhere behind us, and the countryside steps in to welcome us aboard. Everytime I glimpse at the GPS, I see we’re moving at 16+mph. The sun is shining. This is good. LongHairedScouser and I are in pleasant conversation about navigation (he admits to being utterly lost already, and is happy / requiring to follow me and the GPS to the first control).

Now, a quick word about recumbents. They’re very comfortable. They can be very fast. They *all* have issues with chain management. In the RWD Furai, this role is supplied by a set of jockey wheels routing the chain line up and down, following the frame. One in particular (the foremost return idler) has the delightful job of keeping the chain out of the front wheel.


So, 9.4 miles in, and my eye catches a wobble in the guide fixed to the foremost return idler. I can stop and sort that. Tiny bit of plastic. Probably just worked loose.

PING! Sh1t! Its come off.

CRACK!! …and gone straight under a car. That’s bad. Ok jockey wheel still there. Never seen the chain mount the guide. Probably just there for aesthetics. Still, let’s stop and check.

PING!

Sh1t. That was a retaining guide then. Jockey wheel gone now. Doing 20mph. Best throw on the anchors.

SCHLLINGGG!

Cr@p! chain is in the front wheel. Can’t steer. Can’t pedal. Unclip. Get ready for crash landing.

SKKKCRRRANK!
[Chain catches spoke and brings rider and bent to a very rapid halt].

Stop. Breathe. Relax. Ok. You’re alive. That was bad. Am I in traffic? No. Ok. Good. Where’s my longhairedscouser? Up ahead. Looping back. Ok. Good. Let’s check bike over. Hmmm.. In place of jockey wheel and two retaining guides, I seem to have a bare spindle. Damn. Can I balance the chain on it?

No.

Damn. Try again. Damn. No. Ok. Can I fix this? Erm. No.

10 minutes pass, whilst the longhairedscouser and I try to work out where on the route sheet we actually are. I momentarily consider loaning him my GPS, as it looks like I’m out of the running. Damn. On second thoughts, I’ll need it to find a station. Sh1t. Not happy. Best ring wife and buddy. See if anyone is still in the area, or whether I’m lugging this thing back on the trains.

 

[arallsopp]

Sunday 1522hrs: Miles ridden 9.5. Walking to the station.

Ok. Well I seem to be in Hertford. That sounds like it’ll have a station. Wonder what their Sunday service is like. Best go find out. GPS guides me to station road. I sit kerbside, and post an update to various forums. Buzz! Goes the blackberry. A reply has been posted to a topic you are watching… the text of the reply is shown below.

“If you have some big zip ties [I ask tentatively!] you might be able to bodge a workaround - just make a loop for the chain to pass through. Might be a bit noisy, and you might have to replace the ties every now and then, but it could get you on your way.”


No. That won’t work. Will it? I’ve got 10 in my bag. Worth a punt. 9 yards later SCHLLINNNK BANG. Ok. No. Hmmm.. Cut it loose. Try again. One zip tie over the spindle. Another zip tie around the frame. Back pedal. Hideous noise. Lift the rear and try forwards. Seems to work. Catches on the power links, but otherwise good. Retrace my steps. Get back to the route. Check the ties. Hmmm. Chain is slowly sawing through. Hope to hell there’s someone who’s set off behind me, who happens to have more zipties. Ties in the bag: 7.

 

[arallsopp]

Sunday 2200hrs: Miles ridden 79. Miles walked 6. Stolen materials.

Ok. My apologies to the owner of the lost cat in Upton. Your sign may not be as neatly retained as it once was.

On the plus side, I’m now rolling again. Ran out of zipties about 8 instructions back. Its raining. Deep suspicion that I’ve managed to miss the optional stop at Gamlingay, and now fair worried that I’ll be out of time for the next one. I daren’t look at the clock. Sun is down. Can’t be more than 10 miles from here to the checkpoint. Maybe I’m still in the game. Come on baby, hold together…

The ground has levelled out now. 6 hours in the rain hasn’t dampened my spirits (yet). My dynamo lights were less interested by a pedestrian pace, so the new tie is very welcome. Walking darkened lanes has given me plenty of time to mentally review the task in hand.

From my office prep when the year was young, I’m pretty sure Thurlby closes at 20:35hrs. I guess I set off a little late, but I’m not sure this is going to wash with the officials. Thurlby is a mandatory check point, so if I don’t show my face there before the cut, I get a DNF. Until I ran out of ties, I was doing 20mph sprints for 5 mile blocks. I daren’t push too hard on the last tie.

Its been dark for a while. An oncoming estate car flashes its lights as it passes me, swings round in my rear view mirror, pulls alongside momentarily, then sits infront at 17mph. The cat’s owner? Damn. This bike is conspicuous.

No.

Worse.

The sag wagon.

Not now. Surely. I was almost there.

Well I’m not stopping without hitting at least one control, even if it’s closed. Exhausted, I follow it. 2 miles later, red tail lights turn off the main road, down a high street, into a side lane, onto a car park. Looks like this is where it ends.

 

[arallsopp]

Sunday 2244hrs: Miles ridden 88. Miles walked 6. Arrive Thurlby Primary School.

“Howdo. Sorry I’m late. Are you still open”
“Oh yes. We’re not shutting for a good few hours yet. 544 right? You’re the last in. Give us your brevet card and I’ll get you stamped.”
“Stamped? I thought the last stamp was half eight.”
“It is, if you set off at 8am.”
“….”

Big smiles. Note to self. Remember brain stops working when sugar is low. Ok. I have almost 4 hours in the bag. This is far from the plan, but its workable. I’m very wet. I’m very hungry. I’m going to lose a lot of speed once the going gets hilly, so its imperative that I don’t give back any of the spare I’ve just bagged. I’m figuring its flat(ish) from here to Middleton Tyas, but then I’ve got a very nasty 6 in a row of Alston, Eskdalemuir, Dalkeith, Eskdalemuir and Alston again. That’s Cumbria, Northumberland, Scottish Borders, Midlothian and back, and is going to cost me considerably. Must not stop here any longer than necessary.

Right. Grab a warm drink and a plate of food. Thaw out the brain, then set off. ASAP.

This works. The volunteers manning the control are excellent, service is top notch (well, I am pretty much the only rider there), and I’m even beginning to dry out. 14 mins after arriving, I'm feeling human, am back out the door, am looking for my bike.

An entirely unexpected tech interrupts my search to say “I’ve fixed her up as best as I can. Bunged a new tie around the axle. Couldn’t find a jockey wheel or replacement part, so I’ve fashioned this, out of a cleat back.” Under torchlight, I see the old spindle, now cased in fresh zipties, with a suitably low tech protuberance bolted onto the side. The chain sits snuggly on the ball race, with the frame blocking its exit left, and the cleat back right. Blimey. Its ugly. But it holds.

We spend 10 mins refining the positioning, and as the food kicks in I suddenly feel full of confidence. The road onward is dark and remote, but the next check point is only 40 odd miles North of here. I can be there by 2am. In a tradition continued by volunteers at every control from here on in, he gives me a bag of ties and waves me on.