And if there is a work force there, more often or not they will let you through if asked.
Your ride today....
- Thread starter gbb
- Start date
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And if there is a work force there, more often or not they will let you through if asked.
Andy in Germany
Guru
- Location
- Freiburg im Breisgau
I'm sure a day will come...
...When this commute becomes normal or boring...
...But today isn't that day...
a.twiddler
Veteran
23/11/22. Sunny Afternoon Ride to Whitegate.
Where has this year gone? My dream of retirement being plenty of reading, cycling and motorcycling has been swamped by the reality of jobs to be done, things to do, places to be. Lift that barge, tote that bale. Yes dear. No dear. Three bags full dear.
I recently bumped into an old work colleague while out shopping. Do you remember so and so? Well, she’s dead. And whatsisname? He’s dead. And remember anothername? Found dead in bed. So young, too. And nameless? Had a nasty fall, broke his hip. I began to tune out at this stage. La, la la la la la la. Life is hard enough for some without revelling in their misfortunes. I escaped the blandishments of my ghoulish former colleague, did my shopping and tootled off home. It made me determined to get out on my bike while I still could, as the weather has been mild this week.
In fact I was on the verge of going out a few days ago but something came up. A squirt of oil here, a whiff of air there, so the bike would be ready to go when I was.
After dealing with some of life’s tedious necessities this morning the big moment came this afternoon when I grappled with the inordinate length of the Linear to winkle it out of my cluttered garage. Camera, check. Garmin, check. Assorted snacks and a drink (just in case), check. Tools, check. Pump, check. Lights (just in case), check. OK then. Just a short ride today.
The cloudscape had been making idle threats of rain all morning but had given way to sunshine. Despite this there was a noticeable wind which had a chill to it out of the sun. I was well prepared with pullover and sleeveless body warmer. Usual trousers, shoes, ancient track mitts and cap.
Out through the gate then right to lean it against the fence while I get on. Adjust the mirror, wait for a gap in the traffic then launch, cross the road and we’re under way. A brief stop to fine tune the mirror, then left on to Swanlow Lane with no stop needed for traffic, allowing me to maintain my momentum through the uphill traffic lights. Against the head wind speed is disappointing until the road trends slightly downhill when I can get into high gear. With little traffic and a green light at the A54 roundabout I turn right for the downhill run to the town centre, annoyingly only reaching 24mph before I slow down for the red light. Cheekily, I ride on to the low pavement and turn left on to the road at Grange Lane since there is no traffic (if you can do anything cheekily on a great long thing like a LWB Linear which needs a bit of forward planning for changing course).
Into the wind again though rolling along well enough. Vehicles seem to be giving me plenty of clearance which was the situation before any Highway Code changes occurred -maybe a recumbent thing though I didn’t have any close passes on my last long trip on the Brompton either. Perhaps it too has enough weirdness to make drivers think twice.
On along Grange Lane , right through some housing to where it narrows and the surface deteriorates. A car follows me for a while but makes no move to pass until eventually I pull into a gateway and it gets by followed by another one.
Down a dip, up the other side and a couple of mountain bikers pass by in the other direction. I come to the access for the Whitegate Way and swing out to the right so I can get a clear run up the ramp. Again as I get up this steep gravelly slope I feel a spongy feeling with each pedal stroke which disappears once I reach the more gradual slope of the rail trail itself. There are many walkers with dogs and cyclists coming and going on this fine Remembrance Sunday afternoon.
There are patches of slippery golden brown leaves strewn about with more hanging on by their eyebrows in the trees, waiting for the right gust of wind to release them. I’m not feeling particularly herculacious today. It’s been too long since my last proper ride. I ease back to a slowish but manageable cruising speed amongst the throng of dogs, walkers and cyclists. Soon I reach the bridge over the busy Dalefords Lane and the slight slope lessens further. Rolling more easily now, at least I feel I’m doing a more respectable speed. All the cyclists I’ve seen so far, small children or adults, have been coming the other way. Nobody has overtaken me. Not that I'm speedy or anything.
I come to the entrance to the Whitegate station car park. Through the fence I see three 10 -12 year old boys on mountain bikes doing wheelies and skids, working their way towards the narrow entrance. One of them spots me and says, “Sick bike!” They all stop in a row to watch me go by. I ought to be selling tickets. I tuck in my elbows and roll through the narrow pedestrian sized entrance, then turn right to get through a narrow entrance to re enter the rail trail. I wonder if I’m going to have some company but they carry on in the direction they were going.
I continue until I reach the station platform then lean my bike against it while I look at the adjustment on the hub gear cable. With the Sachs 3 speed hub the adjustment is right when the toggle chain is just slightly slack in high gear. It looks a bit too slack to me, so I tighten it slightly. Ahead beyond the station bridge I can see some horses coming, along with a couple of cyclists so I launch for a quick test toward the bridge, left at the end of the platform, through the carpark and then back on to the trail at the other end of the platform. It feels a bit more direct now so I stop again in the same place to eat a snack. The cyclists pass by then three horsewomen. One of them says, “That’s an amazing bike!”. They plod sedately on their way. I finish my snack then take a photo or two.
An unexpected sign
Two more horses pass by, so I get off and wait. One of the lady riders says, “Thank you. He’s not too sure about bikes, especially if they don’t look like he expects a bike to look”. They too pass on their way.
As I set off, I ponder the nature of horse intelligence. How does a horse know? Surely any machine with wheels looks much the same to a horse, even if it’s moving. Maybe Champion the Wonder Horse could work it out. Despite all the training, what probably matters to a horse is whether something looks as if it would try and eat it, or if it’s harmless. So anything that it’s not used to would cause it anxiety. Perhaps the Linear looks a bit predatory, to a horse.
I turn left at the end of the platform, up the slope to the road then turn right to cross over the old bridge. The traffic lights on the bridge are at red, but turn green as I reach them. Although not a steep climb to the road, the transmission feels more positive as I get up it. I change up as I get over the crest of the bridge, and get into high ratio on the hub gear. Something slips or jumps, then after a while it does it again then settles down. Either a) something is sticking in the gear hub and I need to give it a bit of oil through the hollow axle a few times then let it drain out in the hope that it loosens up or b) being that it’s pretty old, there may be a wear problem and if it stops working there are no longer spares available so I will need to sort out an alternative. Meanwhile, I just enjoy the ride.
I reach the crossroads with Dalefords Lane and go straight across to Whitegate. After a flattish stretch I come to what, in the days before I sorted out some decent brakes, I knew as The Test Hill of Doom. I just let it roll without touching the brakes this time knowing I can stop easily if I have to. Annoyingly I find the wind in my face so I take my cap off to avoid losing it. I reach 31.5 mph before turning right on to Mill Lane where I change down ready for the initial steep climb. It was my intention to continue to Meadowbank and return via the Whitegate Way but again there is that spongy sensation in low gear on the hub gear. I turn off left into an estate of large houses so I can stop and have another look at it. Nothing obviously amiss. Since everything works OK in middle gear on the rear hub I turn to plan B and forgo the rest of the climb up Mill Lane. I turn back downhill and turn left into Grange Lane.
Despite all the rain we’ve had recently there have been a few dry days so I hoped it would have dried out enough to be passable. I pass a young chap taking a photo of a nicely carved owl on somebody’s gatepost before slowing down for some extremely muddy tarmac and passing through the bollards that mark the beginning of the narrow woodland section.
In contrast to the riot of greenery that was here last time I passed through there is a wide open space. In addition to the natural autumn dieback it looks as though someone had been on the rampage with a chainsaw, with stacked logs and small branches alongside the path. I stop to take a photo and the wooden owl-photographer passes me and disappears into the woods.
I get going again and soon the path narrows and I’m surrounded by trees. It’s still fairly windy and the sound of the trees drowns out the Pettypool Brook even though it has more water in it than last time.
I expect to catch up with the photographer but instead I see the two horse riders I met earlier approaching. As the path is narrow I take the bike into the low undergrowth by the path side. The first rider is an older woman, the horse a good sized chestnut. The second rider is a younger woman, the horse a smaller grey. The first rider says, “Hi. So we meet again!” I reply that we seem to be going in circles. The first horse, perhaps reassured by his rider talking to me, walks placidly by, followed by the second.
I launch once more. The narrow path, though wet, is not slippery, and I follow its downhill trend to the place where the path becomes a lane once more. Here there is plenty of mud though I ride through most of it following hoof prints and the knobbly tyre tracks of previous cyclists. The smooth tyres start to slide about following the ruts in random directions so I get off and push for a few yards before getting back on as the lane starts to rise. It soon dries out and though the lane is steep in places I don’t need to change out of middle gear on the rear hub. As I near the top of the lane there is a dip filled with water and mud. As I stop to contemplate my route through it a runner thuds by uphill so I follow his route. The mud clears and I continue to the access gate at the top of the lane which is closed. I squeeze through the narrow pedestrian access on to a less broken tarmac surface and get up to a reasonable speed again.
Past the bridge abutments of the access to the Whitegate Way again, downhill through a broken surfaced dip and easily up the other side. As I pass the golf course and come near to the housing there is a small boy practicing tricks on a small wheeled scooter. He stops when he sees me and I hear his wheels behind me for a while as I ride along. He loses interest and I come to a T junction and turn right then left into the sports complex car park. A group of youths are idly riding about and one of them says,”Phwoar! Sick bike!” and another says,”Do a wheelie!” I decline the suggestion and carry on.
A level path, then downhill past some distant footballers. I come across a couple of women chattering away as they walk, one with a pushchair, oblivious to everything else. I just slow down. They are heading in the same direction as I am, towards the A frame barrier and the steep lane to a local estate. I’m not in a hurry today. Eventually one glances behind, and they single out so I can get past. I wriggle through the barrier, and as I get going one of the women calls out ,”You’re very brave!”. That’s not something I’ve thought about. Perhaps it’s all relative. Do they think I’m a Marvel superhero? Maybe Captain Apprehensive. "Recumbent man, recumbent man, rides everywhere a recumbent can" runs through my mind. I raise my mighty arm in acknowledgement, and pedal heroically up the steep lane, manfully pausing for breath at the junction with the estate road.
Right up the hill, then left on to Delamere St. Exasperatingly, there is a head wind. Ho hum. I can usually get up some easy speed along here, but not today. I plod along until I come to a gradual downhill stretch and feel a bit better as the speed rises. All too soon I reach the A54 roundabout. It looks busy as I approach but I don’t need to stop, and make my best progress to get round to my turn off. Here, whatever I’m riding, I feel as if I’m riding through treacle as there is a sharp bend and an uphill that doesn’t look like an uphill, together with the awareness that traffic is leaving the roundabout at speed behind me. Nobody causes me any grief today, and I pass a junction on the right and a light controlled pedestrian crossing in quick succession with no need to stop. From here it’s all plain sailing and I reach my uphill traffic lights, which from this direction are downhill, and steam through and soon arrive at my back gate.
Once home I see that the bike has acquired an impressive amount of mud so I wash it down with the garden hose. It only occurs to me to take a photo afterwards. A "before" picture would have been good.
Distance 10.04 miles, Max speed 31.5 Average speed 6.7 mph- too much squelchy stuff
Where has this year gone? My dream of retirement being plenty of reading, cycling and motorcycling has been swamped by the reality of jobs to be done, things to do, places to be. Lift that barge, tote that bale. Yes dear. No dear. Three bags full dear.
I recently bumped into an old work colleague while out shopping. Do you remember so and so? Well, she’s dead. And whatsisname? He’s dead. And remember anothername? Found dead in bed. So young, too. And nameless? Had a nasty fall, broke his hip. I began to tune out at this stage. La, la la la la la la. Life is hard enough for some without revelling in their misfortunes. I escaped the blandishments of my ghoulish former colleague, did my shopping and tootled off home. It made me determined to get out on my bike while I still could, as the weather has been mild this week.
In fact I was on the verge of going out a few days ago but something came up. A squirt of oil here, a whiff of air there, so the bike would be ready to go when I was.
After dealing with some of life’s tedious necessities this morning the big moment came this afternoon when I grappled with the inordinate length of the Linear to winkle it out of my cluttered garage. Camera, check. Garmin, check. Assorted snacks and a drink (just in case), check. Tools, check. Pump, check. Lights (just in case), check. OK then. Just a short ride today.
The cloudscape had been making idle threats of rain all morning but had given way to sunshine. Despite this there was a noticeable wind which had a chill to it out of the sun. I was well prepared with pullover and sleeveless body warmer. Usual trousers, shoes, ancient track mitts and cap.
Out through the gate then right to lean it against the fence while I get on. Adjust the mirror, wait for a gap in the traffic then launch, cross the road and we’re under way. A brief stop to fine tune the mirror, then left on to Swanlow Lane with no stop needed for traffic, allowing me to maintain my momentum through the uphill traffic lights. Against the head wind speed is disappointing until the road trends slightly downhill when I can get into high gear. With little traffic and a green light at the A54 roundabout I turn right for the downhill run to the town centre, annoyingly only reaching 24mph before I slow down for the red light. Cheekily, I ride on to the low pavement and turn left on to the road at Grange Lane since there is no traffic (if you can do anything cheekily on a great long thing like a LWB Linear which needs a bit of forward planning for changing course).
Into the wind again though rolling along well enough. Vehicles seem to be giving me plenty of clearance which was the situation before any Highway Code changes occurred -maybe a recumbent thing though I didn’t have any close passes on my last long trip on the Brompton either. Perhaps it too has enough weirdness to make drivers think twice.
On along Grange Lane , right through some housing to where it narrows and the surface deteriorates. A car follows me for a while but makes no move to pass until eventually I pull into a gateway and it gets by followed by another one.
Down a dip, up the other side and a couple of mountain bikers pass by in the other direction. I come to the access for the Whitegate Way and swing out to the right so I can get a clear run up the ramp. Again as I get up this steep gravelly slope I feel a spongy feeling with each pedal stroke which disappears once I reach the more gradual slope of the rail trail itself. There are many walkers with dogs and cyclists coming and going on this fine Remembrance Sunday afternoon.
There are patches of slippery golden brown leaves strewn about with more hanging on by their eyebrows in the trees, waiting for the right gust of wind to release them. I’m not feeling particularly herculacious today. It’s been too long since my last proper ride. I ease back to a slowish but manageable cruising speed amongst the throng of dogs, walkers and cyclists. Soon I reach the bridge over the busy Dalefords Lane and the slight slope lessens further. Rolling more easily now, at least I feel I’m doing a more respectable speed. All the cyclists I’ve seen so far, small children or adults, have been coming the other way. Nobody has overtaken me. Not that I'm speedy or anything.
I come to the entrance to the Whitegate station car park. Through the fence I see three 10 -12 year old boys on mountain bikes doing wheelies and skids, working their way towards the narrow entrance. One of them spots me and says, “Sick bike!” They all stop in a row to watch me go by. I ought to be selling tickets. I tuck in my elbows and roll through the narrow pedestrian sized entrance, then turn right to get through a narrow entrance to re enter the rail trail. I wonder if I’m going to have some company but they carry on in the direction they were going.
I continue until I reach the station platform then lean my bike against it while I look at the adjustment on the hub gear cable. With the Sachs 3 speed hub the adjustment is right when the toggle chain is just slightly slack in high gear. It looks a bit too slack to me, so I tighten it slightly. Ahead beyond the station bridge I can see some horses coming, along with a couple of cyclists so I launch for a quick test toward the bridge, left at the end of the platform, through the carpark and then back on to the trail at the other end of the platform. It feels a bit more direct now so I stop again in the same place to eat a snack. The cyclists pass by then three horsewomen. One of them says, “That’s an amazing bike!”. They plod sedately on their way. I finish my snack then take a photo or two.
An unexpected sign
Two more horses pass by, so I get off and wait. One of the lady riders says, “Thank you. He’s not too sure about bikes, especially if they don’t look like he expects a bike to look”. They too pass on their way.
As I set off, I ponder the nature of horse intelligence. How does a horse know? Surely any machine with wheels looks much the same to a horse, even if it’s moving. Maybe Champion the Wonder Horse could work it out. Despite all the training, what probably matters to a horse is whether something looks as if it would try and eat it, or if it’s harmless. So anything that it’s not used to would cause it anxiety. Perhaps the Linear looks a bit predatory, to a horse.
I turn left at the end of the platform, up the slope to the road then turn right to cross over the old bridge. The traffic lights on the bridge are at red, but turn green as I reach them. Although not a steep climb to the road, the transmission feels more positive as I get up it. I change up as I get over the crest of the bridge, and get into high ratio on the hub gear. Something slips or jumps, then after a while it does it again then settles down. Either a) something is sticking in the gear hub and I need to give it a bit of oil through the hollow axle a few times then let it drain out in the hope that it loosens up or b) being that it’s pretty old, there may be a wear problem and if it stops working there are no longer spares available so I will need to sort out an alternative. Meanwhile, I just enjoy the ride.
I reach the crossroads with Dalefords Lane and go straight across to Whitegate. After a flattish stretch I come to what, in the days before I sorted out some decent brakes, I knew as The Test Hill of Doom. I just let it roll without touching the brakes this time knowing I can stop easily if I have to. Annoyingly I find the wind in my face so I take my cap off to avoid losing it. I reach 31.5 mph before turning right on to Mill Lane where I change down ready for the initial steep climb. It was my intention to continue to Meadowbank and return via the Whitegate Way but again there is that spongy sensation in low gear on the hub gear. I turn off left into an estate of large houses so I can stop and have another look at it. Nothing obviously amiss. Since everything works OK in middle gear on the rear hub I turn to plan B and forgo the rest of the climb up Mill Lane. I turn back downhill and turn left into Grange Lane.
Despite all the rain we’ve had recently there have been a few dry days so I hoped it would have dried out enough to be passable. I pass a young chap taking a photo of a nicely carved owl on somebody’s gatepost before slowing down for some extremely muddy tarmac and passing through the bollards that mark the beginning of the narrow woodland section.
In contrast to the riot of greenery that was here last time I passed through there is a wide open space. In addition to the natural autumn dieback it looks as though someone had been on the rampage with a chainsaw, with stacked logs and small branches alongside the path. I stop to take a photo and the wooden owl-photographer passes me and disappears into the woods.
I get going again and soon the path narrows and I’m surrounded by trees. It’s still fairly windy and the sound of the trees drowns out the Pettypool Brook even though it has more water in it than last time.
I expect to catch up with the photographer but instead I see the two horse riders I met earlier approaching. As the path is narrow I take the bike into the low undergrowth by the path side. The first rider is an older woman, the horse a good sized chestnut. The second rider is a younger woman, the horse a smaller grey. The first rider says, “Hi. So we meet again!” I reply that we seem to be going in circles. The first horse, perhaps reassured by his rider talking to me, walks placidly by, followed by the second.
I launch once more. The narrow path, though wet, is not slippery, and I follow its downhill trend to the place where the path becomes a lane once more. Here there is plenty of mud though I ride through most of it following hoof prints and the knobbly tyre tracks of previous cyclists. The smooth tyres start to slide about following the ruts in random directions so I get off and push for a few yards before getting back on as the lane starts to rise. It soon dries out and though the lane is steep in places I don’t need to change out of middle gear on the rear hub. As I near the top of the lane there is a dip filled with water and mud. As I stop to contemplate my route through it a runner thuds by uphill so I follow his route. The mud clears and I continue to the access gate at the top of the lane which is closed. I squeeze through the narrow pedestrian access on to a less broken tarmac surface and get up to a reasonable speed again.
Past the bridge abutments of the access to the Whitegate Way again, downhill through a broken surfaced dip and easily up the other side. As I pass the golf course and come near to the housing there is a small boy practicing tricks on a small wheeled scooter. He stops when he sees me and I hear his wheels behind me for a while as I ride along. He loses interest and I come to a T junction and turn right then left into the sports complex car park. A group of youths are idly riding about and one of them says,”Phwoar! Sick bike!” and another says,”Do a wheelie!” I decline the suggestion and carry on.
A level path, then downhill past some distant footballers. I come across a couple of women chattering away as they walk, one with a pushchair, oblivious to everything else. I just slow down. They are heading in the same direction as I am, towards the A frame barrier and the steep lane to a local estate. I’m not in a hurry today. Eventually one glances behind, and they single out so I can get past. I wriggle through the barrier, and as I get going one of the women calls out ,”You’re very brave!”. That’s not something I’ve thought about. Perhaps it’s all relative. Do they think I’m a Marvel superhero? Maybe Captain Apprehensive. "Recumbent man, recumbent man, rides everywhere a recumbent can" runs through my mind. I raise my mighty arm in acknowledgement, and pedal heroically up the steep lane, manfully pausing for breath at the junction with the estate road.
Right up the hill, then left on to Delamere St. Exasperatingly, there is a head wind. Ho hum. I can usually get up some easy speed along here, but not today. I plod along until I come to a gradual downhill stretch and feel a bit better as the speed rises. All too soon I reach the A54 roundabout. It looks busy as I approach but I don’t need to stop, and make my best progress to get round to my turn off. Here, whatever I’m riding, I feel as if I’m riding through treacle as there is a sharp bend and an uphill that doesn’t look like an uphill, together with the awareness that traffic is leaving the roundabout at speed behind me. Nobody causes me any grief today, and I pass a junction on the right and a light controlled pedestrian crossing in quick succession with no need to stop. From here it’s all plain sailing and I reach my uphill traffic lights, which from this direction are downhill, and steam through and soon arrive at my back gate.
Once home I see that the bike has acquired an impressive amount of mud so I wash it down with the garden hose. It only occurs to me to take a photo afterwards. A "before" picture would have been good.
Distance 10.04 miles, Max speed 31.5 Average speed 6.7 mph- too much squelchy stuff
Total Ascent: | 341 | ft | |
| Total Descent: | 340 | ft | |
| Start Elevation: | 191 | ft | |
| End Elevation: | 191 | ft | |
| Min Elevation: | 108 | ft | |
| Max Elevation: | 236 | ft |
I got Doug out on the bike again today.
We headed out with the intention of completing the ride that was foreshortened on Saturday, however it was a misty and murky day and when we got up onto Lyth Hill it was plain that we'd be climbing up into the cloud which wasn't particularly appealing. The backup plan was to do a ride up to Oaks - still hilly but it looked a bit clearer in that direction, so we carried on across the top of Lyth Hill and descended to Exford's Green.
Unfortunately I had forgotten the road we needed to use to get to the Annscroft crossroads was closed for resurfacing.If we had descended on the Annscroft side it would have been fine, so a bit of a rethink was needed. We headed back towards Exford's Green and rode up Long Lane instead - this was probably the way I should have taken Doug in the first place as it's not so steep from this direction. We had to pull in a handful of times to allow vehicles past and at a couple of these stops we were getting bothered by wasps - the unusually mild November is obviously confusing them.
After crossing the Longden road the proper climb to Oaks begins - Doug was pulling away from me once the gradient ramped up again and I had to suggest that he might want to pace himself a bit to save the legs for later climbing.
We headed to Wrentnall next and the steeper climb of Broom Hill. Doug did well here and managed it without stops. Likewise with the next short but sharp climb on the way to Pulverbatch - this one was made slightly more tricky than usual by a slippy coating of mud on the road.
From Pulverbatch we took the undulating road to Wilderley then when I offered a choice of routes, Doug opted for the shorter way back by dropping down to Netley and Dorrington - another muddy lane, which is a shame as it's quite fun to press on down the hill when it's dry.
At Dorrington we crossed the A49 and came across some unexpected road closure signs. Since the only alternative would have been to use the A49 for a stretch we opted to ride through, which was fine as there was plenty of room for us to pass the barriers and no work was taking place at that point.
From Ryton we would have a tailwind for the remaining few miles so we got along well to Condover and up to the A49 again - we got to it just as there was a suitable gap in the traffic so we didn't even need to stop at the junction.
19.1 miles at 10.8 mph average. Doug's Strava says we did just over 1,400 feet of climbing in that distance, which I think counts as reasonably hilly.
View attachment 668034
The view from the top of Lyth Hill. The Stretton hills would usually be visible in this shot. There was blue sky over towards Oaks though.
View attachment 668035
Oops, I'd forgotten that road was closed today.
View attachment 668036
At Oaks.
View attachment 668037
A few hilly miles further on and we are about to start the descent from Smethcott Common.
View attachment 668038
The sun is shining on Lyth Hill in the distance.
View attachment 668039
Another one?! This doesn't appear on the council roadworks site so I don't know what work was being done.
View attachment 668040
At Ryton and looking towards the Stretton Hills again. This time we can just make out some of the outlines.
It’s a shame you hadn’t seen my ride report from Sunday, before you went out, as I’d mentioned the Dorrington closure in it!
a.twiddler
Veteran
I once had this experience with a bridge closure on one of my regular routes when I lived in South Wales. For a week or so beforehand there were signs stating the road would be closed but nothing happened for ages. One dark night I came that way past the road closed sign and after a good few miles of uphill came to a barrier across the road. I shone my bike light round and saw that the old stone bridge that used to be there had been completely removed, with no pedestrian access either. I didn't fancy going back and using the main road route in the dark but the stream was at the bottom of a steep slope with another climb up the other side. It was Hobson's choice really, so I slithered down the slope with the bike. The stream wasn't very wide or deep so I got across with no more than wet socks then struggled up the other side. As I got near the top some humungous dog started barking and snarling in an isolated cottage on this side, then the owner came out. When he saw me and my bike he just laughed. I explained that it was easier for me to cross the stream than to go all the way back round. He said, "I hope they fix it soon, I've got bl**dy miles extra to get to work now. Anyway, you've made my night!" So he went back in, and I continued on my way.
I wonder if this should come under "Your ride last century"!
I wonder if this should come under "Your ride last century"!
Last edited:
- Location
- Shrewsbury, Shropshire
I had a couple of hours available to get a ride in this afternoon and hopefully get back before the forecast rain started. The knockabout bike was out and ready when a light rain started and I was almost tempted to not bother, however stubbornness won through.
I thought I'd do something different this time but there were a few well trodden roads to use first; over the top of Lyth Hill, down to Annscroft then to Shorthill and Lea Cross. The rain hadn't lasted very long and the wind was helping a bit so I was glad that I had got out. I thought I'd head through Hinton and Edge next on some quite muddy lanes, then took a lane I've never ridden before that comes out in Yockleton, which was even muddier. Next I steered towards Ford Heath where I planned to loop around a bit before heading back. These lanes were mostly dry but where they were muddy they were really muddy. I wasn't expecting to meet the hunt - fortunately the dogs had just been ushered off the road into a field as I approached. As my route looped round through Shoothill I crossed paths with them again, or at least the stragglers - the rest had already disappeared across the fields in the direction of the A458.
By the time I'd completed my little detour round these lanes I noticed that the distant hills I could see were getting obscured by a haze. Looks like the forecast rain is heading in, so time to head for home. I headed through Cruckton and Cruckmeole then took a right before Hanwood to climb Pound Lane which always seems to be more of an effort than expected. Somewhere around Arscott light rain started again. At Exfords Green I turned towards Lyth Bank to retrace my steps over Lyth Hill. The rain blew through before I reached the top but from there I could see more was on the way.
Having enjoyed the ride so far (despite getting wet) it was a shame to have two niggly incidents in the last half mile - the first was meeting a driver who apparently hadn't noticed that their lights were on main beam and the other was a driver going for an overtake just as we were coming up to a give way line - good job I hadn't intended to turn right at that junction./styles/default/xenforo/smls/wacko.gif
23.3 miles at 11.8 mph average. Really nice to have got out.
The track across the top of Lyth Hill is in its usual winter condition.
Today's view from the top. Nice to be able to see the hills (at the moment at least).
From Lea Cross, the view to the hills around Pontesbury.
Despite all the times I've ridden over this bridge, this was the first time I'd noticed these inscriptions.
Seen at Ford Heath.
A couple of scenes from the lanes round the Ford Heath/Shoothill area.
Not a great photo but I thought I'd include it anyway: Cruckton Hall
The train to the Welsh coast rushes through Hanwood and I continue climbing Pound Lane at a rather more sedate pace
I thought I'd do something different this time but there were a few well trodden roads to use first; over the top of Lyth Hill, down to Annscroft then to Shorthill and Lea Cross. The rain hadn't lasted very long and the wind was helping a bit so I was glad that I had got out. I thought I'd head through Hinton and Edge next on some quite muddy lanes, then took a lane I've never ridden before that comes out in Yockleton, which was even muddier. Next I steered towards Ford Heath where I planned to loop around a bit before heading back. These lanes were mostly dry but where they were muddy they were really muddy. I wasn't expecting to meet the hunt - fortunately the dogs had just been ushered off the road into a field as I approached. As my route looped round through Shoothill I crossed paths with them again, or at least the stragglers - the rest had already disappeared across the fields in the direction of the A458.
By the time I'd completed my little detour round these lanes I noticed that the distant hills I could see were getting obscured by a haze. Looks like the forecast rain is heading in, so time to head for home. I headed through Cruckton and Cruckmeole then took a right before Hanwood to climb Pound Lane which always seems to be more of an effort than expected. Somewhere around Arscott light rain started again. At Exfords Green I turned towards Lyth Bank to retrace my steps over Lyth Hill. The rain blew through before I reached the top but from there I could see more was on the way.
Having enjoyed the ride so far (despite getting wet) it was a shame to have two niggly incidents in the last half mile - the first was meeting a driver who apparently hadn't noticed that their lights were on main beam and the other was a driver going for an overtake just as we were coming up to a give way line - good job I hadn't intended to turn right at that junction./styles/default/xenforo/smls/wacko.gif
23.3 miles at 11.8 mph average. Really nice to have got out.
The track across the top of Lyth Hill is in its usual winter condition.
Today's view from the top. Nice to be able to see the hills (at the moment at least).
From Lea Cross, the view to the hills around Pontesbury.
Despite all the times I've ridden over this bridge, this was the first time I'd noticed these inscriptions.
Seen at Ford Heath.
A couple of scenes from the lanes round the Ford Heath/Shoothill area.
Not a great photo but I thought I'd include it anyway: Cruckton Hall
The train to the Welsh coast rushes through Hanwood and I continue climbing Pound Lane at a rather more sedate pace
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Donger
Convoi Exceptionnel
- Location
- Quedgeley, Glos.
Wonder of wonders, a second ride for me this week! Another gentle 20 miler out to Frampton and back, with a few different little detours in both directions. The idea was to get a few nice pictures of the Severn in the low sunshine. Unfortunately/due to bad planning I had only just fired off a couple of shots at my first stop by the flood wall at Priding when the camera battery went and died on me.
View South West towards Arlingham and the Forest of Dean:
The selfie that killed the camera:
A lovely ride, this one. Great sunny conditions, if a little cold for my chosen clobber (shorts and short-sleeved top), but I warmed up nicely under my own efforts. Might put the shorts away for a few months now though.
As birthdays go, this one didn't start of very promisingly. I'd had to cancel the restaurant for tonight as my wife is in bed with a stonker of a migraine after the stress of us having to have our lovely old cat Archie put down yesterday. I'd also just heard about the sudden and untimely death of a friend and former work colleague. This ride did me the power of good though, and when I hit a sweet spot on the return leg with smooth tarmac, a gentle following breeze and the bike running silently in the sunshine it did wonders for my frame of mind. Cycling does that.
View South West towards Arlingham and the Forest of Dean:
The selfie that killed the camera:
A lovely ride, this one. Great sunny conditions, if a little cold for my chosen clobber (shorts and short-sleeved top), but I warmed up nicely under my own efforts. Might put the shorts away for a few months now though.
As birthdays go, this one didn't start of very promisingly. I'd had to cancel the restaurant for tonight as my wife is in bed with a stonker of a migraine after the stress of us having to have our lovely old cat Archie put down yesterday. I'd also just heard about the sudden and untimely death of a friend and former work colleague. This ride did me the power of good though, and when I hit a sweet spot on the return leg with smooth tarmac, a gentle following breeze and the bike running silently in the sunshine it did wonders for my frame of mind. Cycling does that.
Thanks mainly to the cold and dark I've not been out on a bicycle for nearly a week.. 
Was at the farm shop by 09:30 today courtesy of the Fuji, however the cupboard was once again bare and the ride wasn't enough.
Once back home I smashed the remaining two eggs, got my stuff together and set out for sausagetown (). The forecast said around 10 degrees and a 10-12mph Westerly; so the order of the day was a light beanie, merino base layer, cheapo fleece and thin walking trousers (complete with inconvenient crotch-split that winks at onlookers with every pedal stroke).
The journey was essentially all-west on the way out, with the wind predictably punishing. I took the "optimised" route arrived at post-last-ride to the porkmonger, which involved an few miles through the local estate. This was pretty sloppy in places but manageable as it was only a thinnish layer of mud over a harder substrate, and infinitely preferable to remaining on the road with its over-representation of Chelsea-tractor-knobheads.
Tbh the ride out felt like a bit of an ordeal; headwind, hills, cold, other road users and general lack of fitness consipring to make it a less-than-joyous experience. Despite the relatively modest distance of 13 miles the journey out took pushing 1.5hrs and it felt like quite the mission when I finally arrived.
On the last leg I passed some walkers on a small permissive path who'd waited for me - it was noted how well my front light identified me; which made me feel validated as a proficient consumer
Once in town I locked the bike and did a quick trawl of the local charity shops, to no avail... but at least the decisions were easy
Bike moved to remain in view and I popped into the butchers for a variation on the usual, then polished off a scotch egg before getting back on my way. I helped a little old lady across the road at her request - she ended up getting two of us roped in in the end - and neither got a thankyou
Back out and as usual the climb out of town felt especially laborious; typically the wind having dropped a fair bit and offering little assistance. I pootled home at no great pace; assisted by the wind to varying degees.
The ride was pretty good from the perspective of the usual "7/10 might have died" situations and probably averaged out at around "3/10, oh you bellend" - so not at all bad.
Pretty much everyone (on foot or horseback) I passed out in the sticks might have been described as "well-heeled" but was perfectly pleasant. Thinking about it I don't think I saw another cyclist.. I enjoyed a few decent moments of mutual respect with drivers, including the poor bloke in an HGV (a big rigid tipper) who ended up following me up the last big 10-12% hill near the end of the ride.
Not that it made a lot of difference but once I was aware he'd had to slow behind me I got out of the saddle and gave it pretty much all of what was left; to 90-95% max HR.. it seemed my effort at least was appreciated as he was cool until visibility was good and gave a flash of the hazards once past; acknowledged with a wave. Isn't the world just such a nicer place when people don't treat each other like dicks by default?
The numbers: a little under 27 miles and 1450ft at 10.5mph and 135bpm for 1600kcal burned. Twelve plain sausages, eight rashers of smoked streaky, four assorted scotch eggs and half a dozen free range.
Some pictoral evidence of the absolute debauchery:
Was at the farm shop by 09:30 today courtesy of the Fuji, however the cupboard was once again bare and the ride wasn't enough.
Once back home I smashed the remaining two eggs, got my stuff together and set out for sausagetown (
). The forecast said around 10 degrees and a 10-12mph Westerly; so the order of the day was a light beanie, merino base layer, cheapo fleece and thin walking trousers (complete with inconvenient crotch-split that winks at onlookers with every pedal stroke).The journey was essentially all-west on the way out, with the wind predictably punishing. I took the "optimised" route arrived at post-last-ride to the porkmonger, which involved an few miles through the local estate. This was pretty sloppy in places but manageable as it was only a thinnish layer of mud over a harder substrate, and infinitely preferable to remaining on the road with its over-representation of Chelsea-tractor-knobheads.
Tbh the ride out felt like a bit of an ordeal; headwind, hills, cold, other road users and general lack of fitness consipring to make it a less-than-joyous experience. Despite the relatively modest distance of 13 miles the journey out took pushing 1.5hrs and it felt like quite the mission when I finally arrived.
On the last leg I passed some walkers on a small permissive path who'd waited for me - it was noted how well my front light identified me; which made me feel validated as a proficient consumer
Once in town I locked the bike and did a quick trawl of the local charity shops, to no avail... but at least the decisions were easy
Bike moved to remain in view and I popped into the butchers for a variation on the usual, then polished off a scotch egg before getting back on my way. I helped a little old lady across the road at her request - she ended up getting two of us roped in in the end - and neither got a thankyou
Back out and as usual the climb out of town felt especially laborious; typically the wind having dropped a fair bit and offering little assistance. I pootled home at no great pace; assisted by the wind to varying degees.
The ride was pretty good from the perspective of the usual "7/10 might have died" situations and probably averaged out at around "3/10, oh you bellend" - so not at all bad.
Pretty much everyone (on foot or horseback) I passed out in the sticks might have been described as "well-heeled" but was perfectly pleasant. Thinking about it I don't think I saw another cyclist.. I enjoyed a few decent moments of mutual respect with drivers, including the poor bloke in an HGV (a big rigid tipper) who ended up following me up the last big 10-12% hill near the end of the ride.
Not that it made a lot of difference but once I was aware he'd had to slow behind me I got out of the saddle and gave it pretty much all of what was left; to 90-95% max HR.. it seemed my effort at least was appreciated as he was cool until visibility was good and gave a flash of the hazards once past; acknowledged with a wave. Isn't the world just such a nicer place when people don't treat each other like dicks by default?
The numbers: a little under 27 miles and 1450ft at 10.5mph and 135bpm for 1600kcal burned. Twelve plain sausages, eight rashers of smoked streaky, four assorted scotch eggs and half a dozen free range.
Some pictoral evidence of the absolute debauchery:
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Team changes mean that I don't have calls immediately after lunch any more, so I'm able to go out for my lunchtime loops again. Two of them this week, totalling 27 miles. Great to get the blood pumping to face the later afternoon calls.
Unseasonably warm, and I was overdressed today, shorts and short sleeves would probably have been enough, in mid November! Enjoyable nonetheless.
Unseasonably warm, and I was overdressed today, shorts and short sleeves would probably have been enough, in mid November! Enjoyable nonetheless.
Donger
Convoi Exceptionnel
- Location
- Quedgeley, Glos.
Thanks mainly to the cold and dark I've not been out on a bicycle for nearly a week..
Was at the farm shop by 09:30 today courtesy of the Fuji, however the cupboard was once again bare and the ride wasn't enough.
Once back home I smashed the remaining two eggs, got my stuff together and set out for sausagetown (
The journey was essentially all-west on the way out, with the wind predictably punishing. I took the "optimised" route arrived at post-last-ride to the porkmonger, which involved an few miles through the local estate. This was pretty sloppy in places but manageable as it was only a thinnish layer of mud over a harder substrate, and infinitely preferable to remaining on the road with its over-representation of Chelsea-tractor-knobheads.
Tbh the ride out felt like a bit of an ordeal; headwind, hills, cold, other road users and general lack of fitness consipring to make it a less-than-joyous experience. Despite the relatively modest distance of 13 miles the journey out took pushing 1.5hrs and it felt like quite the mission when I finally arrived.
On the last leg I passed some walkers on a small permissive path who'd waited for me - it was noted how well my front light identified me; which made me feel validated as a proficient consumer
Once in town I locked the bike and did a quick trawl of the local charity shops, to no avail... but at least the decisions were easy
Bike moved to remain in view and I popped into the butchers for a variation on the usual, then polished off a scotch egg before getting back on my way. I helped a little old lady across the road at her request - she ended up getting two of us roped in in the end - and neither got a thankyou
Back out and as usual the climb out of town felt especially laborious; typically the wind having dropped a fair bit and offering little assistance. I pootled home at no great place; assisted by the wind to varying degees.
The ride was pretty good from the perspective of the usual "7/10 might have died" situations and probably averaged out at around "3/10, oh you bellend" - so not at all bad.
Pretty much everyone (on foot or horseback) I passed out in the sticks might have been described as "well-heeled" but was perfectly pleasant. Thinking about it I don't think I saw another cyclist.. I enjoyed a few decent moments of mutual respect with drivers, including the poor bloke in an HGV (a big rigid tipper) who ended up following me up the last big 10-12% hill near the end of the ride.
Not that it made a lot of difference but once I was aware he'd had to slow behind me I got out of the saddle and gave it pretty much all of what was left; to 90-95% max HR.. it seemed my effort at least was appreciated as he was cool until visibility was good and gave a flash of the hazards once past. Isn't the world just such a nicer place when people don't treat each other like dicks by default?
The numbers: a little under 27 miles at 10.5mph and 135bpm for 1600kcal burned. Twelve plain sausages, eight rashers of smoked streaky, four assorted scotch eggs and half a dozen free range.
Some pictoral evidence of the absolute debauchery:
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Nice bar tape!
It’s the 18 of November, I didn’t know you were a Geordie .
It was 11C according to Garmin, so hardly arctic temperatures, and it felt warmer than that. Usually above 11 or 12 I wear shorts and short sleeves, otherwise I overheat, so today was just borderline.
I’d arranged an evening ride with @Rickshaw Phil and Doug. It was properly cold out there for the first time since last Winter and so the long fingered gloves and 4 layers were donned. Thought I may be too warm, but I wasn’t and glad I donned them.
I cycled over to their place and then we climbed up Lyth Hill, pausing for a breather at the top. We could see the A49 down below, which looked busy, so we descended to it and only had a short wait before we got across, which was good.
The downhill and wind assisted section to Condover was fun, before we had the long drag up towards Ryton, turning off just short of it through Wheathall and up to Berriewood. One slight annoyance as a driver took an age to dip their headlights, leaving spots in the eyes for a bit, but the long descent back to Condover is always enjoyable.
The narrow lane to Cantlop had a bit of traffic on it and so necessitated a couple of pull ins, before the descent to the bridge and climb back up the other side, then another mostly downhill section to Betton Abbots.
The A458 was busy, but we got through with no issues. I’m sure I felt a couple of spots of rain along there, but nothing more came of it.
We parted ways, with 14.79 miles on the clock for me, at a leisurely 11.4 mph avg. Enjoyed that after a rubbish week at work.
I cycled over to their place and then we climbed up Lyth Hill, pausing for a breather at the top. We could see the A49 down below, which looked busy, so we descended to it and only had a short wait before we got across, which was good.
The downhill and wind assisted section to Condover was fun, before we had the long drag up towards Ryton, turning off just short of it through Wheathall and up to Berriewood. One slight annoyance as a driver took an age to dip their headlights, leaving spots in the eyes for a bit, but the long descent back to Condover is always enjoyable.
The narrow lane to Cantlop had a bit of traffic on it and so necessitated a couple of pull ins, before the descent to the bridge and climb back up the other side, then another mostly downhill section to Betton Abbots.
The A458 was busy, but we got through with no issues. I’m sure I felt a couple of spots of rain along there, but nothing more came of it.
We parted ways, with 14.79 miles on the clock for me, at a leisurely 11.4 mph avg. Enjoyed that after a rubbish week at work.
