StuAff
Silencing his legs regularly
- Location
- Portsmouth
Note for pedants: yes, this was a Thursday night, due to the bank holiday. But this meant that we were actually riding on Friday for once. And while I'm at it, this also includes a report about my ride to the ride. So there.
This was scheduled to be the second FNR of the year, but with Southend being cancelled it became the opener. The first to Bognor since the legendary/notorious rain and mud fest of the 2018 edition (the idea among the leadership collective is to keep the core favourites annual, and rotate the others) and I for one have missed it. It's one of my favourites, and not just because my failed efforts to get a ride to Southsea make it my 'home ride', this sofa being a mere 25 miles along roads I know so well the Strava heatmap is a very deep orange. It's a great route, even with Bury Hill (aargh!) or the Gurkha Bridge alternative (bah!). And the Lobster Pot at Felpham is an exceedingly fine breakfast spot (both in culinary and geographical terms).
And I had the week off, which means that, as so often in the past, I was inclined to make the entire journey to London and back self-powered.
'You didn't?'
'Yeah, I did'.
And I did.
First time I did this was back in 2011, and the trip north was in a small but powerful peloton led by Hummers. 75.42 miles to Victoria in 5:06 rolling (and the terrain is rolling as well). I did say powerful…I don't stand a hope in hell of ever managing that pace on my own, not just because of ageing, I'd rather go a bit slower than I could and feel I've got it in the tank than push myself too hard, and I had more gear anyway (after last year's trauma, no way I'm leaving a bike unattended without an insurer-approved D-lock). But 12 mph average is more than doable, and I pretty much did that on the way up, 11.9 mph as it turned out, even with all-too-likely issues, for which I had allowed more than enough time. And were there issues? Need you ask? But they were thankfully relatively minor. Worst cases- i.e. ride-ending mechanical, apocalyptic weather, pace lacking or mojo going AWOL- are much less of an issue when you're going near every station on the Portsmouth-Guildford stretch of line, and after that, Esher, Surbiton, KOT…but I skipped those.
Off north, as per usual in this exercise, at about 1.50. Strong NE crosswind, predicted to fade with time & as I moved north. If it had been a headwind I'd have got the train. As it was, me & the mighty Tripster went 'meh' and sped along quite nicely. There was a bit of rain, but nothing much to bother with, I didn't bother with the rain trousers and both it and me dried up quick. Early pace was over 13 mph, though that started its gradual slide once The Climbing started (as I have previously noted, the South Downs are somewhat misnamed, it's the ups that are the problem). Through Havant, Rowlands Castle, rural lanes (thankfully quiet) to Buriton, and round to Petersfield Tesco for usual pause, first 18 miles done in 90 minutes or so. Twenty minutes later, nature's call answered and additional calories purchased, onwards. Heading out of town, realised there was a problem. I appeared to be stuck on the inner ring. Better than the 50t for all the climbing, but still not good. Pulled over into a layby, had a look…nothing doing. Carried on, and sometime later, did get back into the big ring, but something was certainly amiss, it was only shifting up in the middle of the cassette, and I didn't want to make do as it was. If only there was a highly regarded LBS just up the road in Liphook, right off the roundabout in the centre of town. Oh, there was
Stuck my head round the door of Liphook Cycles (interior design by a hoarder, there was a thin corridor of space) and asked if they could take a look. Answer was positive. I sat on a bench opposite, had a hot cross bun, and ten minutes later it was sorted. They noticed the saddle was wonky and sorted that as well. Usual shifting performance restored, £6.95 well spent. On to Haslemere, and the really lumpy bit. Ended up walking one of the worst climbs at Brook, only the first or second time I've done that, but it was only a short but steep one so not much time lost.
On to Guildford just after six- obviously later than planned, but no rush- where I decided to try an alternative to the usual route through town and the A3 bike path. Instead, up the High Street- opted to walk, the cobbled climb did not appeal, pausing to put the lights on. Then on east, to the A25, with a few pauses to check position with Osmand on the phone. The A25 off-road option was appalling from what I saw- narrow, broken up, much worse than the (not exactly pretty) A3 one, but the road itself was fine, traffic much quieter than the A3 ever is, and good progress made. Swings and roundabouts as to which was better overall, but I think the alternative just about sneaks it. Off north towards East Clandon, and then east again to rejoin my canonical route at Ockham, didn't swing past my usual meal stop of Ripley. Bit of faffing checking route, watering plants, etc. There was a necessary deviation on the way to Cobham, Plough Lane having the temporary installation of a lake. And no, I wasn't tempted to try fording it. Thankfully, a suitable (and open) alternative was 200ft away, adding a little distance, but hardly a problem. It was now half-seven and I hadn't eaten since Liphook, so stopped at Cobham, 56 miles on the clock. Many calories consumed, lights switched on, and on I went.
Up the A307 as usual, all the way to Kingston. I got round my navigational bete noir without issues, and opted to go for the road alternatives to Richmond Park, thought it would be a bit quicker. So, Kingston Hill and the A3 shared paths it was. Not pretty, but more direct. Wandsworth and Clapham as usual, with a pause at about 9.30 at Sainsbury's Nine Elms for another meal deal & the loo. Got to Waterloo at about 10.15, ate the second meal deal, and failed to refill an empty bottle as the water fountain was off (didn't look at the one upstairs).
11-ish, I head down the bike path towards the NT. On the way down, a telltale thumping on the rear wheel. Fairy visit. Bugrit. 77 miles from home, no problem. Nine previous centuries (and a few not far short) on these tyres, no problem. I've been up and down that path hundreds of times, including Wednesday night (Henry Rollins at the Palladium), no problem. Until then. Sod's law, and why doesn't he sod off! As regulars know, I have no puncture repair skills whatsoever, but I did have everything needed- two spare tubes, levers, a decent pump, the hex key needed for the through axle, and the desire and inclination to do what I could to help myself to get going ASAP (unlike a certain someone else on the ride…). Arrived pretty much simultanously with James C and Kim, and the rest soon followed. Geoff S and @rb58 in particular were of great assistance (thanks again chaps) and we got the tyre done, though we also found a somewhat bizarre problem- the rear mech wasn't bolted to the derailleur hanger, the through axle was holding it in place (thankfully). So, wheel out and it was being held only by the cable. Ah. Not good. Attempts to sort it with one of the spare bottle cage bolts proved in vain. Multiple pairs of hands needed to get the bike in rolling order again. If I'd had that puncture on my way up it would have been ride-ending. But I didn't, and it wasn't, and neither front nor rear shifting misbehaved at all for the rest of the ride. I visited the LBS on Saturday morning, and the splendid Dainius found a suitable bolt, and tightened up a few others (I hadn't quite got the through axle absolutely tight, oops). His T-shirt was rather apt for a further mechanical later in the night, but I'll come back to that…
Having sorted that out, off we went, only slightly later than planned. Despite the now dry weather, it rapidly became apparent that this was going to be one of those all-too-frequent ones where if it can go wrong, it does. And if it can't, well, it's one of those nights when it does anyway. First indication came at Clapham Junction, where the usual natural break was somewhat lengthier than planned due to the first of multiple deflations on one particular bike. Once our TECs (Ross and Greg) had finally caught up, on we went through Tooting, Mitcham and Coulsdon before crossing Farthing Down. At the regroup on the south end, the lovely Jenny took this picture of our ride leader, when he had just received the news about yet more punctures (plural) on that offending bike. Rather fantastic shot…
And of course, given the recent weather conditions (and grot therefore spread on roads) and the number of riders- 43 or so at start, that guy wasn't the only one suffering punctures. A long night's journey into day wasn't likely, it was practically guaranteed. Really helpful given the temperatures were barely above freezing, plenty of us were suffering (though my own kit was more than up to the job). I, along with the bulk of the riders, got to our stop at Burstow just about 0345-0400. Only 25 or so miles in to a 72 mile ride, but on this night it was probably best to have it earlier. Max and the scout group gave us their usual excellent nosh and warm welcome. Titus had taken the decision to leave the tail end to catch up, and he spent some time looking out for Ross et al to join us. I think they were about 45 minutes behind us eventually. Titus's announcement of an intended 0500 departure was greeted with a short, negative response from Greg, unsurprisingly. That increasingly problematic rider was sorting, or trying to, even more punctures. This was six in total I think, three in each tyre. Ross's account read like a full house on the How to Annoy Your TECs and Fellow Riders bingo card. Tyres made of cheese. Anti-theft skewers/hex keys on both wheels, for which he had the key but the front in particular was problematic (I remember a previous encounter with those things when as a virtual TEC, the actual tail end caught back up because they took so long to deal with). With the wheels stuck in place, the only option was to try and patch the tyres on the bike. That clearly wasn't working out very well. The front eventually got a new, TEC-supplied tube. He was trying to sort those final fairy visits when Titus advised him, with admirable restraint, that Gatwick was three miles away and he was on his own from here. I'd have been tempted to go Don Logan. I imagine a blackballing has been implemented. Oh yes, Dainius's T-shirt: an emphatically unofficial Bob The Builder item. 'Can We Fix It? No It's F****d'.
We were off again at about 0510, and as we headed south trains homeward were increasingly a viable, attractive option. Given yet more punctures causing delays at the back, self, James R & @Shadow were appointed as virtual TECs, until the actual tail end had caught up sufficiently. Given our collective lack of mechanical nous, we were grateful that all we had to deal with was a bit of faffage (and in the great scheme of things as they stood, it really wasn't much of a problem). Titus had settled on Bury Hill rather than the Gurkha Bridge route, and as painful and unpleasant as that climb is, memories of the 2018 quagmire on the latter made the A29 by far the better option. Terrible surface, relentless gradient, and long, long, long. Though the view from the top is cracking. Having failed to remove a few layers and refuel a bit, I decided to give in and walk part way up, I knew I'd run out of gears before the summit. Annoying, but the size 45 was the best gear to be in. Soon after that came the in-no-way terrifying (no, it's really terrifying) crossing of the A27, before the final stretch that I could metaphorically do blindfold. ETA before the night had been 8.45-9.00. In my case, near the head of the ride, 9.45, so not too bad under the circumstances.
One large breakfast, a pot of tea, and much nattering later, time to move on. It was now just after 11. Given I already had 152 miles on the clock, fatigue and aches and pains might seem likely, In practice I felt in (much) better shape than after 98.5 miles to Brighton and back on Monday (not rounding it off to the ton says a lot). Not achy. Not tired. So, no trains would be involved. Once past the diversion on Bognor seafront due to a funfair, perfectly adequate progress was made despite a slight headwind. Briefly crossed paths with Jim again as he made his way to Goodwood, then through Chichester and along the A259 all the way to Havant. Back home at 1.30 or so, 174.94 miles on the clock. And a very sound nap shortly after. That was, on balance, a very Good Friday indeed. Thanks everyone. Except that guy, obviously…
I will be absent from Burnham (schedule clash) but back for Newhaven, I have a ferry to catch…
Saturday night saw yet another visit to Brighton, for a most splendid evening with two city residents, the Hartnoll brothers AKA Orbital. Wonder if they cycle? They're used to all-nighters and those glasses would come in handy for TECing…
This was scheduled to be the second FNR of the year, but with Southend being cancelled it became the opener. The first to Bognor since the legendary/notorious rain and mud fest of the 2018 edition (the idea among the leadership collective is to keep the core favourites annual, and rotate the others) and I for one have missed it. It's one of my favourites, and not just because my failed efforts to get a ride to Southsea make it my 'home ride', this sofa being a mere 25 miles along roads I know so well the Strava heatmap is a very deep orange. It's a great route, even with Bury Hill (aargh!) or the Gurkha Bridge alternative (bah!). And the Lobster Pot at Felpham is an exceedingly fine breakfast spot (both in culinary and geographical terms).
And I had the week off, which means that, as so often in the past, I was inclined to make the entire journey to London and back self-powered.
'You didn't?'
'Yeah, I did'.
And I did.
First time I did this was back in 2011, and the trip north was in a small but powerful peloton led by Hummers. 75.42 miles to Victoria in 5:06 rolling (and the terrain is rolling as well). I did say powerful…I don't stand a hope in hell of ever managing that pace on my own, not just because of ageing, I'd rather go a bit slower than I could and feel I've got it in the tank than push myself too hard, and I had more gear anyway (after last year's trauma, no way I'm leaving a bike unattended without an insurer-approved D-lock). But 12 mph average is more than doable, and I pretty much did that on the way up, 11.9 mph as it turned out, even with all-too-likely issues, for which I had allowed more than enough time. And were there issues? Need you ask? But they were thankfully relatively minor. Worst cases- i.e. ride-ending mechanical, apocalyptic weather, pace lacking or mojo going AWOL- are much less of an issue when you're going near every station on the Portsmouth-Guildford stretch of line, and after that, Esher, Surbiton, KOT…but I skipped those.
Off north, as per usual in this exercise, at about 1.50. Strong NE crosswind, predicted to fade with time & as I moved north. If it had been a headwind I'd have got the train. As it was, me & the mighty Tripster went 'meh' and sped along quite nicely. There was a bit of rain, but nothing much to bother with, I didn't bother with the rain trousers and both it and me dried up quick. Early pace was over 13 mph, though that started its gradual slide once The Climbing started (as I have previously noted, the South Downs are somewhat misnamed, it's the ups that are the problem). Through Havant, Rowlands Castle, rural lanes (thankfully quiet) to Buriton, and round to Petersfield Tesco for usual pause, first 18 miles done in 90 minutes or so. Twenty minutes later, nature's call answered and additional calories purchased, onwards. Heading out of town, realised there was a problem. I appeared to be stuck on the inner ring. Better than the 50t for all the climbing, but still not good. Pulled over into a layby, had a look…nothing doing. Carried on, and sometime later, did get back into the big ring, but something was certainly amiss, it was only shifting up in the middle of the cassette, and I didn't want to make do as it was. If only there was a highly regarded LBS just up the road in Liphook, right off the roundabout in the centre of town. Oh, there was
Stuck my head round the door of Liphook Cycles (interior design by a hoarder, there was a thin corridor of space) and asked if they could take a look. Answer was positive. I sat on a bench opposite, had a hot cross bun, and ten minutes later it was sorted. They noticed the saddle was wonky and sorted that as well. Usual shifting performance restored, £6.95 well spent. On to Haslemere, and the really lumpy bit. Ended up walking one of the worst climbs at Brook, only the first or second time I've done that, but it was only a short but steep one so not much time lost.On to Guildford just after six- obviously later than planned, but no rush- where I decided to try an alternative to the usual route through town and the A3 bike path. Instead, up the High Street- opted to walk, the cobbled climb did not appeal, pausing to put the lights on. Then on east, to the A25, with a few pauses to check position with Osmand on the phone. The A25 off-road option was appalling from what I saw- narrow, broken up, much worse than the (not exactly pretty) A3 one, but the road itself was fine, traffic much quieter than the A3 ever is, and good progress made. Swings and roundabouts as to which was better overall, but I think the alternative just about sneaks it. Off north towards East Clandon, and then east again to rejoin my canonical route at Ockham, didn't swing past my usual meal stop of Ripley. Bit of faffing checking route, watering plants, etc. There was a necessary deviation on the way to Cobham, Plough Lane having the temporary installation of a lake. And no, I wasn't tempted to try fording it. Thankfully, a suitable (and open) alternative was 200ft away, adding a little distance, but hardly a problem. It was now half-seven and I hadn't eaten since Liphook, so stopped at Cobham, 56 miles on the clock. Many calories consumed, lights switched on, and on I went.
Up the A307 as usual, all the way to Kingston. I got round my navigational bete noir without issues, and opted to go for the road alternatives to Richmond Park, thought it would be a bit quicker. So, Kingston Hill and the A3 shared paths it was. Not pretty, but more direct. Wandsworth and Clapham as usual, with a pause at about 9.30 at Sainsbury's Nine Elms for another meal deal & the loo. Got to Waterloo at about 10.15, ate the second meal deal, and failed to refill an empty bottle as the water fountain was off (didn't look at the one upstairs).
11-ish, I head down the bike path towards the NT. On the way down, a telltale thumping on the rear wheel. Fairy visit. Bugrit. 77 miles from home, no problem. Nine previous centuries (and a few not far short) on these tyres, no problem. I've been up and down that path hundreds of times, including Wednesday night (Henry Rollins at the Palladium), no problem. Until then. Sod's law, and why doesn't he sod off! As regulars know, I have no puncture repair skills whatsoever, but I did have everything needed- two spare tubes, levers, a decent pump, the hex key needed for the through axle, and the desire and inclination to do what I could to help myself to get going ASAP (unlike a certain someone else on the ride…). Arrived pretty much simultanously with James C and Kim, and the rest soon followed. Geoff S and @rb58 in particular were of great assistance (thanks again chaps) and we got the tyre done, though we also found a somewhat bizarre problem- the rear mech wasn't bolted to the derailleur hanger, the through axle was holding it in place (thankfully). So, wheel out and it was being held only by the cable. Ah. Not good. Attempts to sort it with one of the spare bottle cage bolts proved in vain. Multiple pairs of hands needed to get the bike in rolling order again. If I'd had that puncture on my way up it would have been ride-ending. But I didn't, and it wasn't, and neither front nor rear shifting misbehaved at all for the rest of the ride. I visited the LBS on Saturday morning, and the splendid Dainius found a suitable bolt, and tightened up a few others (I hadn't quite got the through axle absolutely tight, oops). His T-shirt was rather apt for a further mechanical later in the night, but I'll come back to that…
Having sorted that out, off we went, only slightly later than planned. Despite the now dry weather, it rapidly became apparent that this was going to be one of those all-too-frequent ones where if it can go wrong, it does. And if it can't, well, it's one of those nights when it does anyway. First indication came at Clapham Junction, where the usual natural break was somewhat lengthier than planned due to the first of multiple deflations on one particular bike. Once our TECs (Ross and Greg) had finally caught up, on we went through Tooting, Mitcham and Coulsdon before crossing Farthing Down. At the regroup on the south end, the lovely Jenny took this picture of our ride leader, when he had just received the news about yet more punctures (plural) on that offending bike. Rather fantastic shot…
And of course, given the recent weather conditions (and grot therefore spread on roads) and the number of riders- 43 or so at start, that guy wasn't the only one suffering punctures. A long night's journey into day wasn't likely, it was practically guaranteed. Really helpful given the temperatures were barely above freezing, plenty of us were suffering (though my own kit was more than up to the job). I, along with the bulk of the riders, got to our stop at Burstow just about 0345-0400. Only 25 or so miles in to a 72 mile ride, but on this night it was probably best to have it earlier. Max and the scout group gave us their usual excellent nosh and warm welcome. Titus had taken the decision to leave the tail end to catch up, and he spent some time looking out for Ross et al to join us. I think they were about 45 minutes behind us eventually. Titus's announcement of an intended 0500 departure was greeted with a short, negative response from Greg, unsurprisingly. That increasingly problematic rider was sorting, or trying to, even more punctures. This was six in total I think, three in each tyre. Ross's account read like a full house on the How to Annoy Your TECs and Fellow Riders bingo card. Tyres made of cheese. Anti-theft skewers/hex keys on both wheels, for which he had the key but the front in particular was problematic (I remember a previous encounter with those things when as a virtual TEC, the actual tail end caught back up because they took so long to deal with). With the wheels stuck in place, the only option was to try and patch the tyres on the bike. That clearly wasn't working out very well. The front eventually got a new, TEC-supplied tube. He was trying to sort those final fairy visits when Titus advised him, with admirable restraint, that Gatwick was three miles away and he was on his own from here. I'd have been tempted to go Don Logan. I imagine a blackballing has been implemented. Oh yes, Dainius's T-shirt: an emphatically unofficial Bob The Builder item. 'Can We Fix It? No It's F****d'.
We were off again at about 0510, and as we headed south trains homeward were increasingly a viable, attractive option. Given yet more punctures causing delays at the back, self, James R & @Shadow were appointed as virtual TECs, until the actual tail end had caught up sufficiently. Given our collective lack of mechanical nous, we were grateful that all we had to deal with was a bit of faffage (and in the great scheme of things as they stood, it really wasn't much of a problem). Titus had settled on Bury Hill rather than the Gurkha Bridge route, and as painful and unpleasant as that climb is, memories of the 2018 quagmire on the latter made the A29 by far the better option. Terrible surface, relentless gradient, and long, long, long. Though the view from the top is cracking. Having failed to remove a few layers and refuel a bit, I decided to give in and walk part way up, I knew I'd run out of gears before the summit. Annoying, but the size 45 was the best gear to be in. Soon after that came the in-no-way terrifying (no, it's really terrifying) crossing of the A27, before the final stretch that I could metaphorically do blindfold. ETA before the night had been 8.45-9.00. In my case, near the head of the ride, 9.45, so not too bad under the circumstances.
One large breakfast, a pot of tea, and much nattering later, time to move on. It was now just after 11. Given I already had 152 miles on the clock, fatigue and aches and pains might seem likely, In practice I felt in (much) better shape than after 98.5 miles to Brighton and back on Monday (not rounding it off to the ton says a lot). Not achy. Not tired. So, no trains would be involved. Once past the diversion on Bognor seafront due to a funfair, perfectly adequate progress was made despite a slight headwind. Briefly crossed paths with Jim again as he made his way to Goodwood, then through Chichester and along the A259 all the way to Havant. Back home at 1.30 or so, 174.94 miles on the clock. And a very sound nap shortly after. That was, on balance, a very Good Friday indeed. Thanks everyone. Except that guy, obviously…
I will be absent from Burnham (schedule clash) but back for Newhaven, I have a ferry to catch…
Saturday night saw yet another visit to Brighton, for a most splendid evening with two city residents, the Hartnoll brothers AKA Orbital. Wonder if they cycle? They're used to all-nighters and those glasses would come in handy for TECing…
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