That was fun! A warm night, with clear skies, but with some mist. We started a little on the late side, with Mke E, Des and Graham doing the TEC thing and made our way out of central London without fuss.
Standing on the roundabout at the northern end of Mitcham Common, watching the riders go smiling by, I reckoned that this was what the ride was about and as we climbed up to Wallington, meeting our stray, and on towards Chipstead everything was rosy. New riders looked comfortable, experienced riders were standing at junctions pointing the way, and our little peloton had relaxed in to a rhythm when.... we had a bit of a disaster - Hermann's bike deciding to check out in a big way. A bent back wheel had pushed the tyre in to the brake block, tearing the tyre and causing a blowout.
Adrian produced a piece of toothpaste tube to prevent the new innertube bursting through what remained of the tyre, and, then set of home for a new tyre. Hermann plodded on with about 20 psi (which we thought the maximum the repair would take) in his back wheel, up the hill to Chipstead and down Reigate Hill where a small elite detatchment had decided to improvise on the route and shove off in an entirely novel direction. Tim Hall and Danilo came to the rescue, rounding up the sheepish lost sheep, allowing us to make our way up Cockshott Hill with a full crew.
Only after Ben and Andy had set off down Lonesome Lane at warp five did it occur to me that they might not clock User10571's bend - so I decided to chase them down (smart move!) and warn them. Duly warned they set off at warp five.five, with me on their back wheel wondering why my legs hurt so very much and whether the fire in my lungs would spread to my brain.
Adrian and I had discussed taking the A23 direct in to the undercroft of the airport, and this worked well enough. We formed a rolling roadblock that held off the traffic as the peloton trundled down three quarters of a mile of trunk road in to a bus stop and on to the cycle path. Then the Surprise. Up we went into the airport, with the new riders taking a little while to come to terms with being in the Gatwick arrivals hall. Coffee (Caffe Nero is sooo much better than Costa) and Graham pronounced the last rites on Hermann's back wheel, which, we decided could collapse at any time. Hermann took the train back to London, and the rest of us went out in to the dawn and took the Balcombe road in to Sussex.
The FNRttC got in to its grooviest groove. Our TEC trio were happy to continue, people did the wayfinding thing in the usual smooth way, and all of us went along at a comfortable pace, meeting up at Turners Hill, then Lindfield. The mist thickened, and we arrived in Lindfield dripping. Dave took pictures, which should be sweet.
I'd done the wayfinding at the top end of Slugwash Lane, and was following Angela-Marie down the hill when the following happened....there was a bang - a big bang.....a large black bit (which turned out to be a light) shot ten feet sideways from her bike..... she exclaimed in a very refined matter, her front wheel locked up... I shouted 'don't brake'...... she came to rest at the side of the road. What had happened was that a bike lamp fixed to the front fork, had gone in to the spokes and (quite how I don't know) the saddle wire of her brake had come out of the brake arm, and the brake arm had gone under the rim, ramming the pad in to the spokes. Go figure. The brake was re-strung, the wheel was in perfect shape, the light went in to the bag and we continued, her wheel not one bit out of line.
On to Wivelsfield and the Greenhouses, and up the Beacon. Some whippersnappers did it three times, but, just as strikingly, all kinds of riders on all kinds of bikes took it in to their heads that they weren't going to walk, no sirree, and that this hill was there for the taking. And taken it was, with what I'm sure was a good deal of effort belied by the smiles and the smooth pedalling at the top. Pippa looked in no trouble at all, Claudine fairly raced up, and Des and Mike, both on fixies, soared to the top.
Angela-Marie's chain had gone. While Adrian and Graham sorted the new power link the majority of the ride made their way to the Madeira, there to drink Earl Grey tea by a sea sparkling under sunlight. There was a modicum of bathing, and a lot of breakfast eating, and, in small groups, our happy band went off to the station, or, in the case of the Mouseketeers, the road to all points north and west. Adrian and I took the 10.19 to East Croydon and I rolled down to the Stockwell Skate Park Jam, which was absolutely the after eight mint to the feast that is the FNRttC.
Tomorrow's another day. Newhaven.