mmmmartin
Random geezer
That will be Henrik, AKA Woollypigs, as in Tierra del Fuego, Patagonia, New Zealand, etc etc onna bike? Hardcore is a reasonable place to begin the description. There's a long way to go after that though.....
FNRttC Friday Night Ride to the Coast 21st March - Burnham-on-Crouch via Junction 31
- Thread starter dellzeqq
- Start date
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StuAff
Silencing his legs regularly
- Location
- Portsmouth
Are there taxi ranks up there then?
to be honest, the memory of being snogged by a chap with the most abrasive stubble this side of a bogbrush has wiped all other recollections from my mind.
There are rides, not a few, that make me think 'well, Simon, you kind of got away with that'. Our recce of the 14th had been a fantastic success - warm, a tailwind, and a full moon, and, the moon aside, I'd hoped for a repeat.
Well....the driving rain came earlier than forecast, fell heavier than forecast, but it did fall on our backs, which is no bad thing. And it was over by the time we reached Rainham (tish-boom) leaving us cold, but within sight of a very early 'half way' stop. The horrible lighting at the service station did none of us any favours, and you, all of you, including some of the toughies, looked down at heart. And then.......dry sky, drying roads and punctures mended with incredible swiftness (I'm told Olaf was in there....) gave us a different ride entirely. The wait at Horndon-on-the-Hill was almost pleasant. Basildon looked half good. People volunteered joyously for wayfinding in parts of Essex they'd normally take big steps to avoid. Wickford simply melted away, and, having pressed on for an almost unprecedented 14 miles between stops, the wait at Woodham Lane was no more than fifteen minutes for the front riders. Plan Z, with User10571 leading a select group of 12 from South Woodham Ferrers to an early breakfast worked like a dream - I took the last junction and the second, larger group came in smoothly and and in sufficiently rapid succession that I doubt there was a time when I couldn't see someone rolling down Tinker's Hole toward me.
What else is there to say, other than thankyou to all those who stood by the side of the road, kept the back end of the ride moving and fixed and tweaked punctures and the occasional mechanical.
There are rides, not a few, that make me think 'well, Simon, you kind of got away with that'. Our recce of the 14th had been a fantastic success - warm, a tailwind, and a full moon, and, the moon aside, I'd hoped for a repeat.
Well....the driving rain came earlier than forecast, fell heavier than forecast, but it did fall on our backs, which is no bad thing. And it was over by the time we reached Rainham (tish-boom) leaving us cold, but within sight of a very early 'half way' stop. The horrible lighting at the service station did none of us any favours, and you, all of you, including some of the toughies, looked down at heart. And then.......dry sky, drying roads and punctures mended with incredible swiftness (I'm told Olaf was in there....) gave us a different ride entirely. The wait at Horndon-on-the-Hill was almost pleasant. Basildon looked half good. People volunteered joyously for wayfinding in parts of Essex they'd normally take big steps to avoid. Wickford simply melted away, and, having pressed on for an almost unprecedented 14 miles between stops, the wait at Woodham Lane was no more than fifteen minutes for the front riders. Plan Z, with User10571 leading a select group of 12 from South Woodham Ferrers to an early breakfast worked like a dream - I took the last junction and the second, larger group came in smoothly and and in sufficiently rapid succession that I doubt there was a time when I couldn't see someone rolling down Tinker's Hole toward me.
What else is there to say, other than thankyou to all those who stood by the side of the road, kept the back end of the ride moving and fixed and tweaked punctures and the occasional mechanical.
frank9755
Cyclist
- Location
- West London
Actually, it's in full accordance with the laws of physics. Henrik is a big strong guy, but I think you meant the bike...
To explain:
Smaller wheels accelerate faster....
Light bike+strong rider+very low gears= no problems col bagging
I think I'd be more concerned about descending on those small wheels than the climb.
frank9755
Cyclist
- Location
- West London
AKA Hotlips
Active Member
- Location
- London
I know that various people have managed to do most of the TdF famous climbs on folding bikes but one of the main issues for me versus a big wheeled bike is the lack of enough gears to climb steeper gradients that go on and on as the bottom gear is just not low enough on my Brompton. I don't have an 11 speed alfine hub which gives a wider gear range and even Terns seem to have more gears so hills on my Brommie hurt!! Plus I don't have the strength to conquer mountains yet and that is an important part of the equation.Now, various Brompton owners have been posting things about their bikes, or folders in general, being hard work on climbs. I beg to differ. Brommies are a bit heavier than a lot of other bikes (folding, let alone fixed-frame), but there is no reason why small wheeled bikes can't climb just as well as anything else. Here is some photographic evidence...
This fine chap is Henrik, the previous owner of Chutney my Speed Pro TT (in the pic- well, with the original frame...). This photo was taken at the summit of the Col du Tourmalet, 2115 metres. He also climbed Hautacam and Luz Ardiden on it......
Agent Hilda
The Babe
Agent H Ride Report (edited)
Darling darlings
So good to see you all looking so buff! What fun with The Simpsons gang! Let’s hope they made us look good
The recces were fab.
We just knew it wouldn’t last. HPC was drafty. It rained a lot. Big Ben was beautiful, gracious, reassuring a wonderful thing to see at the start of a ride. The embankment was noisy, the tunnel was fantastic!!
Titus and I Whoooooped our way through it.
I got jolly wet. Almost immediately. At one point I felt a little trickle of water run down inside my merino. I knew then that dry Susie was over for at least 2 hours. Wet Susie was going to have to make the most of it.
The half way stop was reassuringly normal. The Agent H sarnies tasted fantastic. I changed into dry longs. My wet ones weighed more than The Rube 2. I shifted them off onto the photographer (with thanks).
I like being the Chef de Faires, if that’s how you spell it. It’s particularly good when Mick is there, he cycles just behind me so I am never The Last. Ian and I did chats. I admired his muscles. We shivered. We mosied along until the first puncture happened and then Olaf the Wonderful fixed it. I sped nervously off to notify the way-finders. It was super spooky racing along all alone in the night on the empty road being hooted at, cat called and the rest. I hit pot holes and nearly an off on a drain but then seeing Mice and the rest and waving to them that All Was Ok.
‘We have a mechanical, they are not far behind, not long to wait now!’
We had some issues with inner tubes, a mudguard (of all things) and some tired riders. But they all made it in the end and a jolly good time they all had – I heard them chatting every now and then, talking of All Things Middle Of The Night.
I need a speedy keeper-upperer who will go forward to tell the way finders when we get punctures as that ended up being me and I aint the world’s greatest sprinter and I was bloody knackered afterwards all weekend and I like bossing 'em around whilst they are fixing things and offering them tips on non bike related stuff and telling them to hurry up ffs it effing freezing.
I love coming around the corner and seeing The Boss waiting there for us, the tecs at the back, the last of the no hopers, the shivering Charlies. Sometimes I get a pat or a kiss or just an 'All Up? '
'All Up' 'All Up!'
On the recce we were rabbitastic, there were dozens of them under the lights munching away, but I don’t remember much wildlife this time apart from an inappropriate bird singing at 3am. The World is Falling Apart!
The hill was groovy, the roads were gorgeous, I was never undertaken once not once all night! But then there was just me and Ian, Mick and Olaf and Gordon the Brave.
‘Are you there Gordon?’ I said at one point
‘I’m here, watching the rear quarter’ he replied
‘and I am watching the other rear quarter’ says Ian ‘we have both quarters covered’ he said ‘we are straddling the quarters’ he added, unnecessarily.
What a night.
(BTW from now on I am going to insist we cycle directly to HPC, it’s so much more fun than waiting at Victoria and going on the train. You get a little warm up and the nerves disappear, a bit)
Love you to pieces
Agent H
Darling darlings
So good to see you all looking so buff! What fun with The Simpsons gang! Let’s hope they made us look good
The recces were fab.
We just knew it wouldn’t last. HPC was drafty. It rained a lot. Big Ben was beautiful, gracious, reassuring a wonderful thing to see at the start of a ride. The embankment was noisy, the tunnel was fantastic!!
Titus and I Whoooooped our way through it.
I got jolly wet. Almost immediately. At one point I felt a little trickle of water run down inside my merino. I knew then that dry Susie was over for at least 2 hours. Wet Susie was going to have to make the most of it.
The half way stop was reassuringly normal. The Agent H sarnies tasted fantastic. I changed into dry longs. My wet ones weighed more than The Rube 2. I shifted them off onto the photographer (with thanks).
I like being the Chef de Faires, if that’s how you spell it. It’s particularly good when Mick is there, he cycles just behind me so I am never The Last. Ian and I did chats. I admired his muscles. We shivered. We mosied along until the first puncture happened and then Olaf the Wonderful fixed it. I sped nervously off to notify the way-finders. It was super spooky racing along all alone in the night on the empty road being hooted at, cat called and the rest. I hit pot holes and nearly an off on a drain but then seeing Mice and the rest and waving to them that All Was Ok.
‘We have a mechanical, they are not far behind, not long to wait now!’
We had some issues with inner tubes, a mudguard (of all things) and some tired riders. But they all made it in the end and a jolly good time they all had – I heard them chatting every now and then, talking of All Things Middle Of The Night.
I need a speedy keeper-upperer who will go forward to tell the way finders when we get punctures as that ended up being me and I aint the world’s greatest sprinter and I was bloody knackered afterwards all weekend and I like bossing 'em around whilst they are fixing things and offering them tips on non bike related stuff and telling them to hurry up ffs it effing freezing.
I love coming around the corner and seeing The Boss waiting there for us, the tecs at the back, the last of the no hopers, the shivering Charlies. Sometimes I get a pat or a kiss or just an 'All Up? '
'All Up' 'All Up!'
On the recce we were rabbitastic, there were dozens of them under the lights munching away, but I don’t remember much wildlife this time apart from an inappropriate bird singing at 3am. The World is Falling Apart!
The hill was groovy, the roads were gorgeous, I was never undertaken once not once all night! But then there was just me and Ian, Mick and Olaf and Gordon the Brave.
‘Are you there Gordon?’ I said at one point
‘I’m here, watching the rear quarter’ he replied
‘and I am watching the other rear quarter’ says Ian ‘we have both quarters covered’ he said ‘we are straddling the quarters’ he added, unnecessarily.
What a night.
(BTW from now on I am going to insist we cycle directly to HPC, it’s so much more fun than waiting at Victoria and going on the train. You get a little warm up and the nerves disappear, a bit)
Love you to pieces
Agent H
frank9755
Cyclist
- Location
- West London
It's a good question. Roundabouts are strange places. I've marshalled at time trials where I have spent a few hours standing in the centre of roundabouts, and things do look different when you are on the inside. And there is also the story of the guy who camped wild in the middle of a big roundabout, died through night and wasn't discovered; for about seven years. Other than by rabbits.
AKA Bob
Riding a folding bike far too much of the time...
- Location
- Reading upon Thames
I had fun coming down the back of the Jura Mountains last year and maxed out at 46.5 mph according to Garmin on my small wheeled 'clown bike'....
That almost happened to McWobble in Llantwit Major.
Wobblers
Euthermic
- Location
- Minkowski Space
frank9755
Cyclist
- Location
- West London
Better than being a rabid dog, I suppose...
frank9755
Cyclist
- Location
- West London
martint235
Dog on a bike
- Location
- Welling
I can't be the only person thinking "hmmm lunch"
