FNRttC Friday Night Ride to the Coast - Southwold August 8th
- Thread starter dellzeqq
- Start date
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StuAff
Silencing his legs regularly
- Location
- Portsmouth
Hope the select few have a great ferry ride or four. Truly not sorry to be missing this one, but that means fun for someone else!
StuAff
Silencing his legs regularly
- Location
- Portsmouth
Have a good one. Rather you lot than me!
Well, rain stopping at midnight? Is that right? Is it bowlacks. I got the train up to that there Londinium to meet up at HPC with which ever hardy souls had decided that they would make the effort to do this ride despite the reported precipitation. Please, Please, Please if you decide not to do the ride then at least give Simon a courtesy call or text. It doesn't take a second and it's just good manners.
There was 10 of us hardy souls at HPC, sheltering from the drizzle, Myself, Glorious Ride Leader Simon and his Beau Belle, @Agent Hilda, Mary of the Squeaking brakes, @StuartG , @User , @CharlieB , Greg, Julie and renewed of cycling vim and vigour @User13710 .
We could wait no longer and 'We're on our way' heading into mild temperature's and warm wind and rain. Words were discussed as to when the rian would stop, 1am, 2am...We did the usual ride out of London, as always looking wonderful even in the drizzle.
The usual suspects were dispatched without even touching the sides, Aldgate, Stratford, Ilford, Romford and the climb up to Brentwood. The constant rain keeping the roads and pavements free of the fascinating wildlife that we usually see on drier friday nights.
Once at Brentwood, rain still falling, Simon thought out loud as to divert via Billericay rather then the Stock ford option due to the rain. By now the rain had just turned into very light drizzle. The rain had been getting us all down I think, the ride chatter was rather muted but soon reverted back to non stop chatty nonsensical's as the rain finally stopped. 3AM you miserable weather reporting sites.. 3AM. AT LAST.. A DRY RIDE! and the temperatures were very mild.
So Stock.. the place with a windmill that @martint235 never sees and a ford. No riding through the ford @StuAff style this time... and no walking the side bridge either. No...the water had overspilled on to that and the following path and the following road. We had to walk... no sorry wade through. Greg bravely went first. OK, the water was near his knees, we were all going to have to follow his lead.
I was wearing sealskinz socks, they work for me, they don't for others. They keep the wet out.. and they fill up with water when fully submerged. I felt the cold trickle of flood water entering the socks as I waded through.. yeauch......once the flood water had been traversed I had to stop to whip the socks off and empty of water like an upturned welly boot. A good squeeze and a bit for a whirly whirl (Adrian 'stop that please Ian'), and they were good to go.
A quick stop for 2 bites of a sandwich and a wazz and were were in and out of Tesco's Maldon before you could even blink. We got this far with only one puncture, which for a rain sodden night was good going in my book.
But some people are more unlucky then others with one of our number having 2 punctures, in quick succession. Both tubes used up, Adrian saved the day with a spare tube (pre-talk'ed & mighty of course)
By now, 7 of the riders had moved on at a very quick pace to get the the first ferry (did I mention User13710's renewed cycling mojo? It was great to see and I wasn't the only person to notice).
The three of us moved at a furious pace to try catch up. The rolling roads of East Essex and Mersea Island make for such wonderful cycling.... and the sun was rising. It was going to be a beautiful morning.
We got to Mersea Island's ferry point just as we could see the ferry (with cyclists) crossing the Colne to Brightlingsea. The sun rising over the river made for such a beautiful and stunning sunrise.
I padlocked my bike up (I was turning back for home here) and with Charlie and Adrian traversed over dyke, down stairs and along the beach to the ferry point.
It was very easy to see were we had to meet the ferry, even with my limited bush tracking skills.
We reached the point just as the ferry was docking for it's second trip of the morning. With hearty handshakes and a fruit bar thrust into my hand I said good bye to my cycling companions for the last 12 miles of the journey. Feeling a little sad not being able to say cheerio to the advance party beforehand and not joining themfor the rest of the ride either, but I wanted to get back in time for Jnr's football practice.
I sat down on a sand dune and watched them cross the river. Taking in the lovely views, the stunning morning sunshine and the sounds of the estuary birds chatter
Once the boat was out of view I returned to my bike and headed west into a naughty headwind. Retracing the ride back to Maldon where I popped into Macdonald's for a coffee and a bacon roll. Dozing off, my head dropping and lifting like a car's backshelf nodding dog. One too many chin/chest interfaces forced me to get moving and back on the road. That naughty little climb out of Maldon helped get the blood pumping and a nice dash along A roads to Tolleshunt mean I was making good time. By now the beatiful day was complete, with blue sky and a warming sun. With the headwind I didn't push it too hard just pootling along taking in all the country views. Soon getting jolted back to reality once hitting the concrete mess of Okenden and beyond, knowing that Dartford Crossing was not far away. I didn't have to wait long for the crossing and was soon back in Orpington managing to catch the last half hour of jnr's football practice.
I'm filthy and my bike is filthy. I am tired and my leg's ache, i managed 131 miles for the ride. But by golly, it was a great ride, rain and all. Thank you as always @dellzeqq and thank you all those that did the ride. Even though I didn't do the whole ride, this one is one of the best.
There was 10 of us hardy souls at HPC, sheltering from the drizzle, Myself, Glorious Ride Leader Simon and his Beau Belle, @Agent Hilda, Mary of the Squeaking brakes, @StuartG , @User , @CharlieB , Greg, Julie and renewed of cycling vim and vigour @User13710 .
We could wait no longer and 'We're on our way' heading into mild temperature's and warm wind and rain. Words were discussed as to when the rian would stop, 1am, 2am...We did the usual ride out of London, as always looking wonderful even in the drizzle.
The usual suspects were dispatched without even touching the sides, Aldgate, Stratford, Ilford, Romford and the climb up to Brentwood. The constant rain keeping the roads and pavements free of the fascinating wildlife that we usually see on drier friday nights.
Once at Brentwood, rain still falling, Simon thought out loud as to divert via Billericay rather then the Stock ford option due to the rain. By now the rain had just turned into very light drizzle. The rain had been getting us all down I think, the ride chatter was rather muted but soon reverted back to non stop chatty nonsensical's as the rain finally stopped. 3AM you miserable weather reporting sites.. 3AM. AT LAST.. A DRY RIDE! and the temperatures were very mild.
So Stock.. the place with a windmill that @martint235 never sees and a ford. No riding through the ford @StuAff style this time... and no walking the side bridge either. No...the water had overspilled on to that and the following path and the following road. We had to walk... no sorry wade through. Greg bravely went first. OK, the water was near his knees, we were all going to have to follow his lead.
I was wearing sealskinz socks, they work for me, they don't for others. They keep the wet out.. and they fill up with water when fully submerged. I felt the cold trickle of flood water entering the socks as I waded through.. yeauch......once the flood water had been traversed I had to stop to whip the socks off and empty of water like an upturned welly boot. A good squeeze and a bit for a whirly whirl (Adrian 'stop that please Ian'), and they were good to go.
A quick stop for 2 bites of a sandwich and a wazz and were were in and out of Tesco's Maldon before you could even blink. We got this far with only one puncture, which for a rain sodden night was good going in my book.
But some people are more unlucky then others with one of our number having 2 punctures, in quick succession. Both tubes used up, Adrian saved the day with a spare tube (pre-talk'ed & mighty of course)
By now, 7 of the riders had moved on at a very quick pace to get the the first ferry (did I mention User13710's renewed cycling mojo? It was great to see and I wasn't the only person to notice).
The three of us moved at a furious pace to try catch up. The rolling roads of East Essex and Mersea Island make for such wonderful cycling.... and the sun was rising. It was going to be a beautiful morning.
We got to Mersea Island's ferry point just as we could see the ferry (with cyclists) crossing the Colne to Brightlingsea. The sun rising over the river made for such a beautiful and stunning sunrise.
I padlocked my bike up (I was turning back for home here) and with Charlie and Adrian traversed over dyke, down stairs and along the beach to the ferry point.
It was very easy to see were we had to meet the ferry, even with my limited bush tracking skills.
We reached the point just as the ferry was docking for it's second trip of the morning. With hearty handshakes and a fruit bar thrust into my hand I said good bye to my cycling companions for the last 12 miles of the journey. Feeling a little sad not being able to say cheerio to the advance party beforehand and not joining themfor the rest of the ride either, but I wanted to get back in time for Jnr's football practice.
I sat down on a sand dune and watched them cross the river. Taking in the lovely views, the stunning morning sunshine and the sounds of the estuary birds chatter
Once the boat was out of view I returned to my bike and headed west into a naughty headwind. Retracing the ride back to Maldon where I popped into Macdonald's for a coffee and a bacon roll. Dozing off, my head dropping and lifting like a car's backshelf nodding dog. One too many chin/chest interfaces forced me to get moving and back on the road. That naughty little climb out of Maldon helped get the blood pumping and a nice dash along A roads to Tolleshunt mean I was making good time. By now the beatiful day was complete, with blue sky and a warming sun. With the headwind I didn't push it too hard just pootling along taking in all the country views. Soon getting jolted back to reality once hitting the concrete mess of Okenden and beyond, knowing that Dartford Crossing was not far away. I didn't have to wait long for the crossing and was soon back in Orpington managing to catch the last half hour of jnr's football practice.
I'm filthy and my bike is filthy. I am tired and my leg's ache, i managed 131 miles for the ride. But by golly, it was a great ride, rain and all. Thank you as always @dellzeqq and thank you all those that did the ride. Even though I didn't do the whole ride, this one is one of the best.
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martint235
Dog on a bike
- Location
- Welling
Ahem, I always see the windmill and the bear. It's castles I have an issue with. The sneaky, hidey feckers!
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StuAff
Silencing his legs regularly
- Location
- Portsmouth
Even more not jealous after reading about the ford...been there, done that, not doing it again.
redfalo
known as Olaf in real life
- Location
- Brexit Boomtown
Stunning pictures! Glad to hear that everyone made it home safely. And I *am* jealous that I could not do the ride this year. Better half's birthsday weekend....
Andrew Br
Still part of the team !
- Location
- Chorlton Cum Hardy
Great write-up Ian, i enjoyed reading that.
.
.
sagefly
Veteran
Great ride and superb company, the various ferries and their skippers were a nice addition to the day.
Let me assure you all that the expedition across the ford was only undertaken after a comprehensive H&S assessment, its what Brussels has come to expect and why not.
The weather kept the wildlife count down, especially the 2 legged night owls. Final tally 1 toad, 1 green frog, 1 weasel, 1 fox and one startled badger that more through luck than management missed both of dellzeqq's Dura Aces in Hanningfield.
Following on from User13710s bottom bracket concern, how would a novice fettler check whether re lubrication was needed?
My round in Whistable, see you there.
Let me assure you all that the expedition across the ford was only undertaken after a comprehensive H&S assessment, its what Brussels has come to expect and why not.
The weather kept the wildlife count down, especially the 2 legged night owls. Final tally 1 toad, 1 green frog, 1 weasel, 1 fox and one startled badger that more through luck than management missed both of dellzeqq's Dura Aces in Hanningfield.
Following on from User13710s bottom bracket concern, how would a novice fettler check whether re lubrication was needed?
My round in Whistable, see you there.
A karma plus ride ...
If you are going to have rain then coming from behind and warm is the way to have it. My Aldi £9.99 ultralite top kept me dry and warm all the way to Maldon. Then from Brightlingsea to Harwich we were shedding gear faster than Mata Hari in Hell. A beautiful day banished any remaining dampness. The bliss was even greater than last year's all dry run.
It worked the other way too. I was wearing the most sensible shoes (well sandals) for the crossing of theRhine ford. No socks, no lingering squelchiness. Not so good on Mersea Island's shingle beach - ouch and ouch again!
TMN's prescence just exuded mojo. I think I got infected and was steaming on through Essex CC's over enthusiastic top dressing of newly tarmacked roads than would have made off-road more comfortable and faster. I had survived crocodiles (cunningly disguised as small toads) in our epic river crossing and beginning to feel a master of the universe - or at least a decent rider. The rain and the grit bit back. I felt squelchiness of the rear tyre variety. We were already running late so I willingly allowed the 'pros' to, like, starving crows, fall upon and rip my gatorskin from the rim, do the necessary and hand it back with breathtaking speed. My incompetence in not being talc ready, then getting my fingers all oiled up putting the chain back on and then not be able to unscrew the lights to replace batteries was an embarrassment to all. But thank you to those that did the deeds. Again you know who you are.
Amen to the Harwich Pier Cafe remark. Ignoring a bunch of thirsty and hungry cyclists is just bad business. Thankfully the van just down the ride had no such reservations. Tea (90p) and Bacon & Egg baguettes (£2.60) did the business and also almost compensated by the removal of the much anticipated 'Pensioners Special' from the Deben Cafe Menu.
I love that last leg up to Southwold. The contrast between the distinctive roof lines of, first, the Maltings and, secondly, Sizewell 'B' to the right, pretty villages and the Sufflok Alps were also less testing than last year. Eventually Agent Hilda's Water Tower hove into view and via the Walberswick deviation we were soon at the Sole Bay Inn awash with Ghost Ship. A most wonderful ride.
Then it all started to go wrong again. My carer was not there to meet me. Phone calls went unanswered, texts not returned. I didn't know the address I was staying in Southwold. As people left for the trains, the beer went down so my spirits followed. The bench opposite the pub seemed to be where I might be sleeping. Eventually - even after Ade & TMN had given up consoling me and left - I got the call. My carer's phone had been on mute!
So here I am - still in Southwold for the week - the sun has just come out and all is very well with the world. So thank you again DZ - for the ride and especially for the ice cream in Westleton,
Truly the greatest Friday Night Ride.
If you are going to have rain then coming from behind and warm is the way to have it. My Aldi £9.99 ultralite top kept me dry and warm all the way to Maldon. Then from Brightlingsea to Harwich we were shedding gear faster than Mata Hari in Hell. A beautiful day banished any remaining dampness. The bliss was even greater than last year's all dry run.
It worked the other way too. I was wearing the most sensible shoes (well sandals) for the crossing of the
TMN's prescence just exuded mojo. I think I got infected and was steaming on through Essex CC's over enthusiastic top dressing of newly tarmacked roads than would have made off-road more comfortable and faster. I had survived crocodiles (cunningly disguised as small toads) in our epic river crossing and beginning to feel a master of the universe - or at least a decent rider. The rain and the grit bit back. I felt squelchiness of the rear tyre variety. We were already running late so I willingly allowed the 'pros' to, like, starving crows, fall upon and rip my gatorskin from the rim, do the necessary and hand it back with breathtaking speed. My incompetence in not being talc ready, then getting my fingers all oiled up putting the chain back on and then not be able to unscrew the lights to replace batteries was an embarrassment to all. But thank you to those that did the deeds. Again you know who you are.
Amen to the Harwich Pier Cafe remark. Ignoring a bunch of thirsty and hungry cyclists is just bad business. Thankfully the van just down the ride had no such reservations. Tea (90p) and Bacon & Egg baguettes (£2.60) did the business and also almost compensated by the removal of the much anticipated 'Pensioners Special' from the Deben Cafe Menu.
I love that last leg up to Southwold. The contrast between the distinctive roof lines of, first, the Maltings and, secondly, Sizewell 'B' to the right, pretty villages and the Sufflok Alps were also less testing than last year. Eventually Agent Hilda's Water Tower hove into view and via the Walberswick deviation we were soon at the Sole Bay Inn awash with Ghost Ship. A most wonderful ride.
Then it all started to go wrong again. My carer was not there to meet me. Phone calls went unanswered, texts not returned. I didn't know the address I was staying in Southwold. As people left for the trains, the beer went down so my spirits followed. The bench opposite the pub seemed to be where I might be sleeping. Eventually - even after Ade & TMN had given up consoling me and left - I got the call. My carer's phone had been on mute!
So here I am - still in Southwold for the week - the sun has just come out and all is very well with the world. So thank you again DZ - for the ride and especially for the ice cream in Westleton,
Truly the greatest Friday Night Ride.
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Agent Hilda
The Babe
The really important thing about ride reports is that they are honest and true and not some creation from the imagination of Agent H, some fabulous idea of what she might have said, or done or did, some trip she went on (I mean like trip, man) or something she said that she didn't really say, otherwise my dear darlings how do we really get to know each other?
I lay in bed on Friday night planning and re-planning what to wear and listening to the rain outside. The Old Man wasn't really in truth up for it, so I was thinking that there may have been a real possibility of getting all this early sleep for nothing and I made a plan that if i was awake all night I would sort out the cupboard downstairs which I have been itching to do for literally about 10 minutes.
We got the train up so that we could collect the tickets home. By the time we got to Balham I was farking soaked and my feet were wet and my heart was low. WTAF people? WTAF?
The train was full of the usuals and we met The Lovely Jenny at Victoria and then abandoned her to head to HPC. Sorry about that JM. But I is still after all this time well scared of the little trip from Victoria to HPC and I wanted to be with the boss. Its was pissing down actually @ianrauk so don't bloody tell lies you bastard.
We headed off. I decided to leave some other farker to do the All Upping as to be honest I thought tonight is the night I am going to fall off! I am hopeless in the rain, I was fairly down at heart and already cold. But you know what, once you get going its all alright? We got pretty warm, it was fun watching rods of rain on the shiny roads and JM kept telling me when it was going to stop. Also I had a wee at Mary's and that was nice.
It was a dark dark night and as you all know I am actually afraid of the dark, wind, rain and gravel. We had all of these. Mary and I were well scared going down to Ford I literally thought I was going to die. Then we had to go and walk through a river! Thankfully we had an Aussie to guide us though as JM says, he is in reality a lot taller than us and what is knee height for him is like, well you know, higher on us little ones.
@Mice it was even bloody wetter than the wettest I have ever been ever up North when we had to cycle up all those bastard hills with rivers running down them.
Anyway it did stop raining and we rode on through the most wonderful puddles in the dark dark dark waiting for dawn. When we go to the first ferry the sun was rising and I thought hey! I am truly glad to be alive to see this. JM made me laugh and we had a giggle with a hose pipe, If you see me I will tell you sometime.
I will leave the others to the route, the stops, the miles etc but The Arrival is All Mine. I invented it. The little bridge. The cows in the field. The view of The Lighthouse. The Catholics and cultists. The short cut through The Swan. The Sole Bay Inn. All mine.
Here is the list
1. The Friday's jersey may look gorgeous on Charlie but I look like a boiled sweet in mine so it aint coming out again. Plus although the design is just gorgeous, its makes you hot. I just want to be gorgeous, not sweaty.
2. Mary is completely lovely. I love her.
3. We saw A TOAD it was not A FROG and even I scared of wildlife knew it was a toad
4. Adrian was funny but gives good heart
5. The Australian was farking ace and I sat on his tail on the terrible 8 miles or so to the station
6. Julie does TOUSLED without even trying
7. This was a farking epic night and I am pretty much proud of you all and even my little self
To cap it all off, today I learnt how to clean a bike. DZ told me how to do it. I held the hose. Then we drank cider.
Its been fab.
Love and kisses lovely People
Agent H xxx
I lay in bed on Friday night planning and re-planning what to wear and listening to the rain outside. The Old Man wasn't really in truth up for it, so I was thinking that there may have been a real possibility of getting all this early sleep for nothing and I made a plan that if i was awake all night I would sort out the cupboard downstairs which I have been itching to do for literally about 10 minutes.
We got the train up so that we could collect the tickets home. By the time we got to Balham I was farking soaked and my feet were wet and my heart was low. WTAF people? WTAF?
The train was full of the usuals and we met The Lovely Jenny at Victoria and then abandoned her to head to HPC. Sorry about that JM. But I is still after all this time well scared of the little trip from Victoria to HPC and I wanted to be with the boss. Its was pissing down actually @ianrauk so don't bloody tell lies you bastard.
We headed off. I decided to leave some other farker to do the All Upping as to be honest I thought tonight is the night I am going to fall off! I am hopeless in the rain, I was fairly down at heart and already cold. But you know what, once you get going its all alright? We got pretty warm, it was fun watching rods of rain on the shiny roads and JM kept telling me when it was going to stop. Also I had a wee at Mary's and that was nice.
It was a dark dark night and as you all know I am actually afraid of the dark, wind, rain and gravel. We had all of these. Mary and I were well scared going down to Ford I literally thought I was going to die. Then we had to go and walk through a river! Thankfully we had an Aussie to guide us though as JM says, he is in reality a lot taller than us and what is knee height for him is like, well you know, higher on us little ones.
@Mice it was even bloody wetter than the wettest I have ever been ever up North when we had to cycle up all those bastard hills with rivers running down them.
Anyway it did stop raining and we rode on through the most wonderful puddles in the dark dark dark waiting for dawn. When we go to the first ferry the sun was rising and I thought hey! I am truly glad to be alive to see this. JM made me laugh and we had a giggle with a hose pipe, If you see me I will tell you sometime.
I will leave the others to the route, the stops, the miles etc but The Arrival is All Mine. I invented it. The little bridge. The cows in the field. The view of The Lighthouse. The Catholics and cultists. The short cut through The Swan. The Sole Bay Inn. All mine.
Here is the list
1. The Friday's jersey may look gorgeous on Charlie but I look like a boiled sweet in mine so it aint coming out again. Plus although the design is just gorgeous, its makes you hot. I just want to be gorgeous, not sweaty.
2. Mary is completely lovely. I love her.
3. We saw A TOAD it was not A FROG and even I scared of wildlife knew it was a toad
4. Adrian was funny but gives good heart
5. The Australian was farking ace and I sat on his tail on the terrible 8 miles or so to the station
6. Julie does TOUSLED without even trying
7. This was a farking epic night and I am pretty much proud of you all and even my little self
To cap it all off, today I learnt how to clean a bike. DZ told me how to do it. I held the hose. Then we drank cider.
Its been fab.
Love and kisses lovely People
Agent H xxx
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I really didn't want to do this ride. The previous week's tragedy has left me thinking that I should look for something different to do.
I'd taken Susie 'Up The Spanish' on Thursday evening - for the avoidance of doubt 'the Spanish' refers to Bar 61 in Streatham High Road - and Adrian, riding by on his way home from Something Very Important had stopped, chatted, and had a beer. As you know, Adrian is the living soul of optimism, and his take on an equivocal weather forecast was so upbeat that I found myself enthused. A career in motivational speaking awaits him!
I'd suggested an early start, reasoning that the roads would be covered in debris from the (departed) rain. Ten Fridayspeeps dutifully turned up. We waited for the eleventh. We telephoned the eleventh, but he switched his phone off. I sent a text. We waited until midnight and set off. If only I'd realised he sent me an e-mail at 10.58 pm! As we made our way to Hyde Park Corner!
So, having foregone the half hour leeway we set off in close order, and at a 'regular' pace, by which I mean comfortable for most of us, but close to the limit of a couple of us. We did well in getting to Brentwood at two fifteen and setting off again at twenty past, but the ford undid the timetable. And then some....
We've been through the ford (and one or two of us have been in it) and we've taken the bridge when the waters were high. This time round the waters were very high - six foot high and swirling, rushing, a maelstrom of muddy water which, lest there be any doubt, would have taken a person away, smashed them up and deposited their body a mile or more downstream. The bridge was there, but, then again, it was under six inches of water. I conducted a silent risk assessment, but (cometh the hour, cometh the man) Greg simply strode toward the bridge, giving us the line that will, forever, be the most hilarious I've heard on a bike ride.... 'the good thing is, there is no dust!'.
I watched him go knee deep across the roadway toward the bridge before I trod a more discreet line along the verge (and through the nettles) and followed him on to the narrow concrete slab, re-inforced with god knows what kind of cheesewire, and we crossed, he confidently, me confident only in knowing that these socks were about to die, and wondering whether any of the other eight would be stupid enough to follow, which, heaven be praised, they all were. So we all made it to the eastern side. And we rode up the road. In water, for about a quarter of a mile. And, having waited for Ian to bail out his socks we turned south, to and through Stock (with stage whispers about not waking the nasty lady) and past the mill, and in to Old Stock Lane.
I knew that Old Stock Lane would be under water - it is, frequently. Veterans of the first 2011 ride to Southend will remember that I'd told people that we would have to dismount because the habitual floodwater would be frozen. But this was something else - this was four or five inches of water, sometimes more, running across the road at pace. This was a ditch filled to the brim and then some with a torrent - a noisy torrent. Knowing the road I was happy to ride through this (although happier still not to be on deep section rims) but those not so familiar with this part of Essex could be forgiven for stopping there and then.
But we went on. We had a puncture in East Hanningfield, and that cost us another few minutes (thankyou, Charlie for the CO2), and at this point the worry was getting to people's legs, so our pace was modest, but the skies were clearing and we kind of thought....maybe we're going to do this.
In to Maldon Tescos twenty minutes behind schedule, out again fifteen minutes behind schedule and down the road to East Mersea, Team Fast being waylaid by two more punctures, leaving Team Slow to make the running to the beach. Ian's photographs tell the story well - for no other reason than the meeting with landing craft on a deserted beach in the early hours, the Southwold ride is the indispensable, one and only, Top of the Pops night ride. That isn't to say that the eighteen miles from Maldon to East Mersea isn't the finest road the FNRttC travels down, but, if I can give myself a pat on the back, there is no coup de theatre quite like the Brightlingsea Ferry.
On then, to Harwich. This twenty miles or so is a bit crap in places, and our mood is dampened by a lack of sleep or coffee, but I thought it went reasonably well. The green at Great Bentley is lovely, there are some glorious views of the sea, and Harwich has charm. The people running the cafe on the Harwich pier were as stunningly disobliging as ever, so we repaired to the trailer for instant coffee and a burger and bacon buttie (with fried onions, you'll be pleased to know). And, having perked ourselves up a bit we were happy to see the ever-gregarious, not to say richly entertaining Alan hove in to view and take us across the water to Felixstowe.
Through Felixstowe. Past beach huts, Victorian villas in rich stone, concrete houses in the moderne style and the golf links to our 'proper' breakfast by the river Deben. Across the Deben and in to Suffolk Profonde, and along empty roads past cottages washed in pigs blood, stock ponds and fields bursting with fertility. And then.....Ian, had you been with us, you'd have cried. Suffolk's roads do, oftentimes, have sandy bits, but this was biblical. Sand, wet and compacted across small roads and not so small roads, with stretches of water a hundred yards long and more. Steer straight, don't push, change down, and if you're coming to a stop, pedal deliberately and you'll cross sand with a bit of rear wheel wobbling - but after the first twenty times it gets a bit wearing. Our bikes got sand in places that no sand has any business being. Again, the worry went to people's legs, and we were grateful for the freshening tail wind. By the time we got to Westleton and the obligatory ice cream stop, we were pooped.
Susie took the ride across the Walberswick marshes, over the golf course, through The Swan Hotel to the Sole Bay Inn. We drank beer. Of the ride to Darsham the less said the better - the wind was tough to beat. The train from Darsham to Woodbridge had bike spaces a-plenty, but the coach from Woodbridge to Ipswich had none, until, that is, the coach drivers found themselves on the receiving end of She Who Negotiates. If it's any comfort chaps, serious actors have signed away residuals in less time than it took you to discover the extra door to the luggage hold. We blagged our way on to the wrong train, parted company with Greg and Charlie at Liverpool Street, and, yes, I'm afraid I took Susie Up The Spanish yet again for richly deserved steak, chips and red wine.
You were great. Jenny, Mary, Adrian, Charlie, Julie, Greg, Ian, Stuart and (remind me...) Susie, you were all great. English men abed (especially those sending e-mails at 10.58pm) should think themselves accursed. This was the stuff that cycling clubs are made of.
I'd taken Susie 'Up The Spanish' on Thursday evening - for the avoidance of doubt 'the Spanish' refers to Bar 61 in Streatham High Road - and Adrian, riding by on his way home from Something Very Important had stopped, chatted, and had a beer. As you know, Adrian is the living soul of optimism, and his take on an equivocal weather forecast was so upbeat that I found myself enthused. A career in motivational speaking awaits him!
I'd suggested an early start, reasoning that the roads would be covered in debris from the (departed) rain. Ten Fridayspeeps dutifully turned up. We waited for the eleventh. We telephoned the eleventh, but he switched his phone off. I sent a text. We waited until midnight and set off. If only I'd realised he sent me an e-mail at 10.58 pm! As we made our way to Hyde Park Corner!
So, having foregone the half hour leeway we set off in close order, and at a 'regular' pace, by which I mean comfortable for most of us, but close to the limit of a couple of us. We did well in getting to Brentwood at two fifteen and setting off again at twenty past, but the ford undid the timetable. And then some....
We've been through the ford (and one or two of us have been in it) and we've taken the bridge when the waters were high. This time round the waters were very high - six foot high and swirling, rushing, a maelstrom of muddy water which, lest there be any doubt, would have taken a person away, smashed them up and deposited their body a mile or more downstream. The bridge was there, but, then again, it was under six inches of water. I conducted a silent risk assessment, but (cometh the hour, cometh the man) Greg simply strode toward the bridge, giving us the line that will, forever, be the most hilarious I've heard on a bike ride.... 'the good thing is, there is no dust!'.
I watched him go knee deep across the roadway toward the bridge before I trod a more discreet line along the verge (and through the nettles) and followed him on to the narrow concrete slab, re-inforced with god knows what kind of cheesewire, and we crossed, he confidently, me confident only in knowing that these socks were about to die, and wondering whether any of the other eight would be stupid enough to follow, which, heaven be praised, they all were. So we all made it to the eastern side. And we rode up the road. In water, for about a quarter of a mile. And, having waited for Ian to bail out his socks we turned south, to and through Stock (with stage whispers about not waking the nasty lady) and past the mill, and in to Old Stock Lane.
I knew that Old Stock Lane would be under water - it is, frequently. Veterans of the first 2011 ride to Southend will remember that I'd told people that we would have to dismount because the habitual floodwater would be frozen. But this was something else - this was four or five inches of water, sometimes more, running across the road at pace. This was a ditch filled to the brim and then some with a torrent - a noisy torrent. Knowing the road I was happy to ride through this (although happier still not to be on deep section rims) but those not so familiar with this part of Essex could be forgiven for stopping there and then.
But we went on. We had a puncture in East Hanningfield, and that cost us another few minutes (thankyou, Charlie for the CO2), and at this point the worry was getting to people's legs, so our pace was modest, but the skies were clearing and we kind of thought....maybe we're going to do this.
In to Maldon Tescos twenty minutes behind schedule, out again fifteen minutes behind schedule and down the road to East Mersea, Team Fast being waylaid by two more punctures, leaving Team Slow to make the running to the beach. Ian's photographs tell the story well - for no other reason than the meeting with landing craft on a deserted beach in the early hours, the Southwold ride is the indispensable, one and only, Top of the Pops night ride. That isn't to say that the eighteen miles from Maldon to East Mersea isn't the finest road the FNRttC travels down, but, if I can give myself a pat on the back, there is no coup de theatre quite like the Brightlingsea Ferry.
On then, to Harwich. This twenty miles or so is a bit crap in places, and our mood is dampened by a lack of sleep or coffee, but I thought it went reasonably well. The green at Great Bentley is lovely, there are some glorious views of the sea, and Harwich has charm. The people running the cafe on the Harwich pier were as stunningly disobliging as ever, so we repaired to the trailer for instant coffee and a burger and bacon buttie (with fried onions, you'll be pleased to know). And, having perked ourselves up a bit we were happy to see the ever-gregarious, not to say richly entertaining Alan hove in to view and take us across the water to Felixstowe.
Through Felixstowe. Past beach huts, Victorian villas in rich stone, concrete houses in the moderne style and the golf links to our 'proper' breakfast by the river Deben. Across the Deben and in to Suffolk Profonde, and along empty roads past cottages washed in pigs blood, stock ponds and fields bursting with fertility. And then.....Ian, had you been with us, you'd have cried. Suffolk's roads do, oftentimes, have sandy bits, but this was biblical. Sand, wet and compacted across small roads and not so small roads, with stretches of water a hundred yards long and more. Steer straight, don't push, change down, and if you're coming to a stop, pedal deliberately and you'll cross sand with a bit of rear wheel wobbling - but after the first twenty times it gets a bit wearing. Our bikes got sand in places that no sand has any business being. Again, the worry went to people's legs, and we were grateful for the freshening tail wind. By the time we got to Westleton and the obligatory ice cream stop, we were pooped.
Susie took the ride across the Walberswick marshes, over the golf course, through The Swan Hotel to the Sole Bay Inn. We drank beer. Of the ride to Darsham the less said the better - the wind was tough to beat. The train from Darsham to Woodbridge had bike spaces a-plenty, but the coach from Woodbridge to Ipswich had none, until, that is, the coach drivers found themselves on the receiving end of She Who Negotiates. If it's any comfort chaps, serious actors have signed away residuals in less time than it took you to discover the extra door to the luggage hold. We blagged our way on to the wrong train, parted company with Greg and Charlie at Liverpool Street, and, yes, I'm afraid I took Susie Up The Spanish yet again for richly deserved steak, chips and red wine.
You were great. Jenny, Mary, Adrian, Charlie, Julie, Greg, Ian, Stuart and (remind me...) Susie, you were all great. English men abed (especially those sending e-mails at 10.58pm) should think themselves accursed. This was the stuff that cycling clubs are made of.
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StuAff
Silencing his legs regularly
- Location
- Portsmouth
I've used this line before, but it's very applicable for this ride I think....
The Fridays do not MTFU. They are MTFU.
Well done, again, Head Ford Prefects.
The Fridays do not MTFU. They are MTFU.
Well done, again, Head Ford Prefects.
