FNRttC Friday Night Ride to the Coast - Felpham 31st August

[TimO]

They could have all been washed away, if the rain came to more than was forecast, or Felpham may have become a mobile phone hole, where there's no reception (although some ought to be home by now) ?

It's a little strange, but for some reason, some riders don't think keeping us informed of the ride's status is the most important thing, odd people.

 

[rb58]

You're lucky we're able to report at all and not locked in the slammer. Naughty boys (and girls) all of us......

 

[TimO]

Why, what did you do?

That is, aside from cycling through the night, which may be enough to get you sectioned anyway.

 

[Tim Hall]

Just about the best ride ever. Nearly came unstuck on Pebblecombe Hill, but got it back together. The laney bit south of Horsham is sublime, in a continuously gently downwards kind of a way.. The Comedy Off Roading on Mildly Inappropriate Bikes was great fun, if a little tiring on the arms. The breakfast? Snorkers! Good oh!

Back home now, ready for a few zeds.

 

[wanda2010]

You're lucky we're able to report at all and not locked in the slammer. Naughty boys (and girls) all of us......

*Taps fingers impatiently whilst waiting for the 'real' report*.

 

[BalkanExpress]

Just about the best ride ever. .

The words that always create mixed emotions for us "stop at homes": very happy for you but as always so wishing I was there, especially as I was in West Chiltington on Thursday driving along the lanes thing "tomorrow night they will be down here"

 

[Trickedem]

Great ride. Warm and dry. Only one visitation from the P fairy during it. Whlst it was fixed we were transfixed by two owls of different types twit twooing in the background. Very spooky! The Cabin was as good as ever, but also much warmer outside for the queue for once. Sunrise seemed to happen in an instant.
We passed an enormous great castle at Arundel, which I took a photo of for Long Martin
Lobsterpot brekkie was great.
Thanks to Simon and richard for accompanying me to Brighton, particularly as I hadn't loaded the route.

I watched the Pride parade and now have a snazzy decoration for my bike proclaiming me as a proud member of the Lycra Gods Bike Team

I believe there was an altercation between a group of cyclists and the Rozzers. However this was another group entirely unconnected with us law abiding Friday types.

 

[User10571]

........I believe there was an altercation between a group of cyclists and the Rozzers. However this was another group entirely unconnected with us law abiding Friday types.

Crims.
Lazy, idle, good-for-nothing, work-shy, soap-dodging, ne'er-do-wells.
Every one of them.
You can spot'em a mile off.

Me?
Sleep deprived?
Surely not.

Really though?
Definitely one of the better rides - as Tim says.
I did not oversleep.
The exit from Londres was my preferred one - Sutton offering fewer ups and downs than the A24/Dorking alternative.
Those spits and spots of rain (can't seriously call it rain) weren't enough to make anyone (I think) don a waterproof (are you reading this Martin235? What was that all about?).
Following Betchworth there was some definite leg-stetching - with the skaters having, I think, stretched the most. And anyone daft to enough to try, struggling to compete.
We arrived at The Cabin unannounced. Undeterred, Mark did well to cater for us with his crew of one. Once we'd all been fed and watered, and it was quieter at the counter, I swore I saw him flicking through a journal entitled 'How to purchase your second yacht in Marbella'
We shed a couple of riders following the halfway stop
and, I believe, one or two more at Horsham (where Southern's fleet of trains go to sleep at night).

The second half of the ride consists mainly of lanes-to-die-for.
And today it did not disappoint.
Other than for a lack of sunrise.
I cannot remember having ever been at Pickety Cottages in the dark - indicative, I think, of the stormin' pace our tight peloton was capable of.
The views to our right as we approached Amberley were breathtaking - as ever - if any of you cared to peek between the houses.
Even the road-from-hell appeared to be quiet this morning as we descended to Amberley Station.
After which it was just pastoral bliss:
A rural, traffic free lane. A sharp ascent with a little gravel to catch out those who were dozing, and then to the heaving over kiss gates, weaving over a meadow, crossing a bridge made entirely of Joanna Lumley and then a snakey path through the mangroves where the crocs and 'gators live side by side, waiting to pounce.
A short gravelly ascent out of the valley, followed by the long, long glide down into Arundel. Flanked by the crenelations of the castle to one side and the mill-pond reflections in the Arun to the other.

We re-grouped just by the bridge in Arundel over a period of some time. Word has it that the slackers tails end of the group were in deep discussion about the 'Essex Lion'.
Bless 'em.

This is as much mention as I'm about to give to the Polis incident. On account that it warrants no more.

Ford level crossing came and went.
8 or so flat, flat miles followed - we stayed together pretty much for most of that, I think.
That was nice. I don't know how many we were - 60? 70? - someone will have an idea.
That was nice. Really nice.

Descending upon the Lobsterpot didn't seem to ruffle any feathers.
Quality tucker appeared apace, and was subsequently made to disappear in a similar fashion.

Thanks to all I rode with last night. It was a great ride.
'Loved it.
Thanks to Simon for being The Force behind it.

J

Now, I really do need to see what the insides of my eyelids look like.

 

[rich p]

Nice ride indeed on my first for 18 months or so. The weather was good and warmer than I expected making my rucksack with a few extra layers superfluous. This is the first time I've done this route and it is an impressive one with more rural riding.Worth doing again!
Great to catch up with some favourite peeps - you know who you are.
It was fun creating a forum nobbers list with the irrepressible Ian - the contents of which are far too incendiary for public exposure but, suffice to say, none of them were on last nights ride.
...and thanks Ducky for the loan of a rear light after mine decided to die. Not the only red light I'm ignoring

 

[User10571]

We were a bit out of order, all over the road, some over the white line, some 3 or 4 abreast.
They were a bit out of order, telling cyclists to ride in the gutter and offering to ticket people for imaginary offenses.

All Could do better

My bold.
I think you've summed up this morning's incident as well as anyone could.
J

 

[srw]

RichP's forum nobbers list? That sounds like my sort of club. Where do I sign up?

I was thinking of you all as I rode to Portsmouth yesterday, past the signs to Emsworth, and thinking back to April's epic wet and windy ride. I know that Mrs W was sad not to be able to sign up for what sounds like an appetising classic, and I'm thinking I might have chosen the less attractive option too.

 

[rich p]

RichP's forum nobbers list? That sounds like my sort of club. Where do I sign up?

.

No need.

 

[srw]

No need.

 

[Dogtrousers]

What a fantastic ride.

The evening started badly when the guy at my local (Southern) station refused me entry to the station with my bike. I managed to ride like mad to the next station and catch my train there.

The stretch between Betchworth and Faygate was like nothing on earth. The lights (some of you people have searchlights) behind throwing up weird shadows were real Legend of Sleepy Hollow headless horseman stuff. At times I couldn't tell if the road was going uphill or downhill. That was a real experience.

I've often sniffed at the idea that lightness is all in a bike, but then I've never had to repeatedly lift my bike over my head. It was a bit galling seeing people lift their featherlight modern bikes with fingertips while I buckled at the knees under the weight of mine. Sorry to those gateholders I whacked in the face while struggling. Still, it was impressive to see that Joanna Lumley rivals Brunel when it comes to bridges.

Afterwards, I headed off to Hassocks. I replaced the flat off-road bit on the way to Amberley with a distinctly unflat on-road bit. A Bognor CC rider said good morning as he whizzed past as I laboured up the B2139. I comforted myself with the fact that not was he only younger and fitter than me, but he hadn't just ridden 125km and eaten a kilo of bread pudding on the way.

Then I meandered to Hassocks to record my first 100 miler of the year, of the decade, of the millennium. The previous one being (mumble) years ago, before the advent of STI levers, clipless pedals and round wheels.

At Hassocks I just about managed to resist the temptation to nip up and down the Beacon (hard decision that), and chose instead to pass out on the (FCC) train.

And on top of all that I saw two Victorian postboxes, and several plaques. What more could the heart of man desire?

Route and some not very good pics are here.
http://www.wikiloc.com/wikiloc/view.do?id=3286684

Thanks as ever to Simon and the wayfinders. And gateholders.

 

[dellzeqq]

I arrived at the start in a foul mood. Poor Susie went off with Stuart G in search of civilised conversation, while I practised killing people who cancel without so much as an e-mail with a single thought. How I got through the safety talk without threatening to rip the arms off anyone not shouting 'easy' at the correct moment is anybody's guess.

And then.......we were off. Whether consciously or not, Adrian the Magnificent, served as living proof of FNRttC-as-giant-happiness-fest, buzzing up and down the line with intent to jolly along. And people took him up on it. By the time we got to Clapham I'd decided that humanity could continue to exist as long as there was no overtaking on the left. By the time we got to Mitcham I was really cheery. By the time we got to Sutton I'd started being nice to people. Susie was sufficiently encouraged to make some light remark about grandfatherhood, which was sweet of her. Onward and upwards, both geographically and temperamentally, to the high sierras of the A217 and, emboldened by the mild breeze, people were looking at the sky and saying 'we're on our way to Bognor and you haven't got the balls to rain on us', and you could sense a spree taking shape. Down Pebblecombe, lights ablaze, all done with sureness of wheel and in to Betchworth shouting 'hole', 'hole', 'hole' to the undoubted amusement of the natives. Then off, a blazing train of light, turning overhanging trees in to gothic cathedrals and cottages in to film sets. Those of us old enough to remember those ghastly tincan Ever Ready lights, the ones that fitted to your front forks (no, seriously, youngpeeps, that's where we put our lights) find modern bike lights the most extraordinary thing - so extraordinary that, on the odd occasion that a car came the other way, the meeting was one of unequals, even if the poor soul behind the wheel felt the need to flash us.

The front of the ride went across the Weald like an express train, with yours truly latching on to any back wheel that cared to come my way - first Ed, then Tanya, then User10571, then Moses. We tore along at over 20mph and sometimes a lot more, with the first riders reaching the Cabin at five past three (a record) while I took my usual station at Faygate and marvelled (and I mean that word in the sense that God intended it to be meant) at the lights cresting the hill to the south and picking their way down the hillside toward me, the quietness of the night making conversation audible at four hundred yards and more. I think that Martin B, our chef d'affaires for the night, got to the Cabin about twenty to four, which is pretty neat progress. And....the forecast rain had simply not had the temerity to turn up.

Mark did his usual grand job at the Cabin. He really enjoys meeting us, which is a fair compliment because I don't think we mean all that by way of profit and getting up at 1.30 to put the urn on can't be much fun. And then.......off through Horsham which is sometimes the devil to manage but thanks to some sprinty effort by the fasties was no trouble at all. So far, so great, but it got better still on the run down to Coolham, and the West Chiltington turn. Whoosh, went Ed, Tanya and User10571 and once again I hitched a lift that flattered my fitness.

We reached the turn in darkness, and waited for the TECs wondering if the smell was dead badger or dead fox. Once on the move again the light came in quickly and the big boomer front beams were off by the time we took the turn for Parham. We toured Amberley, a village that belongs on chocolate box lids, and then trundled down the B2139 followed by a genial milkman who told me we could take our time. Yes indeedy - there are some nights that just line up for the taking.

I had fun on the walk through the Arun Gap, but not so much fun desperately flying away from the river when I saw people taking off for.....where I knew not. There was, of course, no need to worry - Charlie was at the 'landslide' turn, directing traffic in the manner of Berthold Lubetkin putting penguins on the right ramp - a ramp which, in this case, led us to Arundel for a bit of a re-group, then a mass wander on to the Climping Road where, to be honest, we were all across the way, causing two police officers, young, enthusiastic and yet to grow in to the job to stop the ride and thus convert a rolling road block in to a stationary one. I'm afraid I decided I'd had enough and simply told them what we would be doing and pushed on, the rest following. The cops then decided to park up at the level crossing to do a bit of mass surveillance which turned out not entirely as planned - the ride rolled on by grinning from ear to ear and they got the kind of ticking off I usually reserve for Hackney Council Housing Department.

Honour restored we pedalled along in really good order to the sea and the Lobster Pot. Just when you thought it couldn't get better...........well, that is a decent breakfast. A very decent breakfast. And a very decent breakfast produced in very short order. Contentment spread itself around like warm honey on toast (I know, but it's a good 'un). People drifted off to the station or the long ride home, and seven of us hardy souls went west in to Bognor in search of a decent pint to follow our decent breakfast - found at the Carlton, which, this being Bognor, is not quite as posh as it sounds, but does have an outside terrace overlooking the sea and limitless supplies of Peroni. Here Kim, Peter and I discussed other Peronis in other towns far further north, but no less gracious than Bognor Regis, and Rebecca came up with a plan for growing the Fridays that the Mormons would envy. Our thirst sated we (Susie, Claudine, Adam, Rebecca and I) rolled (yup) off to Bognor station and boarded a train that set off for London on the instant. Adam and Rebecca alighted at East Croydon, and we three remaining Trainsketeers got off at Clapham Junction to board another train departing immediately for home, and thus we got in about three fifteen for a steak and mash dinner of some substance followed by a little snooze.

Consider the above. Is this amount of good stuff legal? Am I going to have to pay for it all? Who knows, and, for now, who cares?