Your ride today....

[N0bodyOfTheGoat]

Yesterday late afternoon, I ended up riding the ~9 mile Wickham to West Meon direction of the Meon Valley Trail, for the first time since August last year. Think that's only four times I've done the north direction in ~9 years and two of those were before 2020 on my old fatbike.

I was fully expecting to find a gate closure somewhere near Soberton (just past half way) with a lane diversion, which was apparently announced by local parish a few months ago. But it was all clear, besides passing a fallen tree very early on after joining the trail at the Station Rd carpark link... So I ended up doing the whole length as usual.

What really suprised me was the time for the ebike segment, last year on 35mm front and 40mm Supremes with butyl tubes it took ~33mins40secs, with a tempo heartrate effort (~145bpm) from me and the max assist kicking in when I dropped below ~15.5mph.
But yesterday on 45mm Caracal Race with latex tube rear and 40mm Supreme up front with butyl tube, it was only ~50secs slower despite me only averaging a z1 ~120bpm effort with the max turbo kicking in... The Caracal Race has been making rides quicker this year, with its lower rolling resistance.

Funny how memory plays tricks, yesterday there were far more stretches of narrower path near ~4 feet rather than ~10 feet wide and the end nearer Wickham seemed like the path had deeper gravel and dry/loose soil compared to how I remembered it. The Wickham end felt really slow, without gazing at my GPS.

Wasn't too busy around 1800, a few more cyclists going the opposite way than I've encountered before, plus the odd walking group and/or dog walker. No horses this time, thankfully!

Thought about simply turning around at West Meon end to do the reverse direction, which I quite possibly have never done on my old bikes either, but my hands felt a little banged up... So I ended up doing a longer back lanes loop which took ~2.5 hours total to do ~38 miles and ~2000 feet climbing.

 

[HLaB]

Used up some more leave today and headed the 7.7miles out to Elton Furze to meet some mates for this:

We tried out a new to us cafe in Geddington. It's a charity cafe working with kids needing help.

https://www.youthworksnorthamptonshire.org.uk/cafe-oak/

They place was fairly busy but despite that the service was fast and friendly. The prices were good to, so if you're in the area I'd reccomend it. The banana bread was a tasty slab too 😋

Of course we finished at HQ and it was a couple of Barnwell Bitters for me before the 12mile sober up 🍻

 

[Elybazza61]

Couple of Zwift routes today.

Did first 20k pootle to see how I felt after the Lurgy i had (hopefully it's on it's way out).

Felt ok so did another 20k on a route designed for returning after a break (been 10 days since my last ride).

Will see how I feel tomorrow morning .

Gonna do some yoga and stretches in a bit so should help negate any aches and pains.

If ok will get out for a 'real' ride Friday or Saturday.

 

[EltonFrog]

I had to go to the post office this morning, one of those small domestic errands that somehow acquires the weight of a minor quest, and as the easiest way there is across the footpaths and fields, I’d naturally lined up the hybrid. Sensible, modern, and about as interesting as a microwave.

Then I noticed the Kingpin was already out of the shed. The non‑folding Kingpin, the proper one, standing there with the quiet self‑assurance of something that has survived several owners, and nearly six decades, and at least one misguided attempt at “improvement”. And I thought, well… feckit. Why not.

Out on the bridle path it rattled in that familiar, companionable way — not the alarming clatter of a Raleigh folder, which always sounds as though it’s trying to shed parts like a molting bird, but the gentle, lived‑in rattle of a bike that has seen things and would quite like to tell you about them. Every bump produced a small commentary. Every rut, a sigh.

By the time I reached the post office, I felt oddly triumphant, as though we’d completed some modest expedition together. The Kingpin, for its part, simply waited outside with the stoic dignity of an old friend who knows full well it’s the best version of itself, no hinges, no gimmicks, no pretence. Just a bicycle, doing its job.

Some durable evidence of this morning's ride.

 

[geocycle]

@EltonFrog this is lovely writing:

‘Out on the bridle path it rattled in that familiar, companionable way — not the alarming clatter of a Raleigh folder, which always sounds as though it’s trying to shed parts like a molting bird, but the gentle, lived‑in rattle of a bike that has seen things and would quite like to tell you about them. Every bump produced a small commentary. Every rut, a sigh.’

Try reading it with John Betjeman tones, it works well.

 

[wafter]

Today was earmarked for the recovery of one of my water bottles; which had been MIA since a ride with a mate a couple of weeks ago.

Intel confirmed that I had indeed left it behind like a twat in the Bampton cafe at which we had lunched, and while staff had pledged to keep it safe until my return I wanted to get this sorted sooner rather than later...

After what passes for a tiring week I wasn’t particularly keen on a ride of any length; not least the 30-odd committed miles a casual glance at Google maps suggested needed to be covered to complete this quest.

Legs already aching a bit but driven by necessity and fortified by a splendid low carb breakfast of sausages, black pudding, eggs and a garlic-stuffed Portobello mushroom, I was out on the Fuji.

Into town first via some suspiciously autumnal tow paths to assume the role of the confused old man while trying to pay some cash into the bank; then out north, then south west onto relatively sparse roads (and a correspondingly indirect route) of varying quality.

Early on it became apparent that I was going to face a reasonably significant, consistent headwind for the bulk of the journey out and I resolved just to settle down to a manageable pace and push through.

The weather was striking with sunlit trees and fields against a combination of clear blue skies and dark brooding storm clouds. Chance meant I missed the bulk of the rain in the area on the way out, although by about 15 miles grinding into the wind in my legs had already enough.

As I crawled towards my destination it became increasingly apparent that mistakes had been made during the planning stage, eventually arriving knackered and jaded after about 27 miles.

On the way over I’d mused on whether to stop at the cafe for lunch; which seemed like the polite thing to do since they’d been good enough to hang onto the bottle for me (and the dude I'd spoken to on the phone was sound / very accommodating); however I was un-enthused by the prospect of spending another tenner on a single slice of scrambled eggs on toast..

Mercifully the universe deigned to make my decision for me; in that I was totally ignored by the member of staff behind the counter upon my arrival. I waited for a while as she stood with her back to me (but likely aware of me in her peripheral vision); and after clocking that my bottle was stood waiting at the other end of the surface she was working on, I eventually just walked over, very obviously took it and walked out – with zero acknowledgement from her.



The journey back felt almost instantly better with the task completed and the wind at my back. Road speed was now faster but journey time hampered by frequent stops for photos and a little foraging in the hedgerows for sustenance.

Upon passing I became intrigued by the lovely old signage and decades-worth of peeling paint on the gates of an old phone exchange so had a nose around for a bit.. I assumed it was abandoned / mothballed but a quick peek through the window revealed lots of hardware (that given my line of work I should probably understand) humming away inside.

It seemed like a nice peaceful place with apple trees in the grounds and blackberry bushes around the perimeter; harking back perhaps to an era where more care and consideration were given when creating infrastructure..

The further into the return leg I got, the more the clouds proved to be darker / more expansive; and maybe halfway back I caught up with them and was subjected to a sustained, torrential downpour of large, cold, sometimes almost painful raindrops.

Soon enough the roads were awash and I was soaked to the skin. Despite the novelty the rain wasn’t particularly pleasant and I was reminded how "cold" felt for the first time in three months, so I wrote off my plan for a decompressive dangle and dinner in town and headed straight home after an unexpected 53-ish miles.

While I'd had to endure the twattery of two close-passing dickheads thankfully these were tempered to an extent by many more pleasant interactions with drivers; mostly on the narrow roads that would only permit traffic in one direction, with much accommodation and thanks exchanged between the parties involved

I also saw a fair bit of wildlife in and around the parched, open fields of west Oxfordshire; including kites and a few hares – which was very welcome.

It’s a really nice part of the world but not a whole lot of fun to cycle at times thanks to the necessity to engage with some pretty nasty, fast A-roads and of course the occasional dickhead regardless of context.

Glad to have that out of the way anyway, and I at least feel like I've overcome something. I suspect I'll feel less positive tomorrow when the endorphins have worn off but my shoes still squelch..

No photos post-rain as the water rendered the phone's touchscreen useless..

 

[wafter]

I had to go to the post office this morning, one of those small domestic errands that somehow acquires the weight of a minor quest, and as the easiest way there is across the footpaths and fields, I’d naturally lined up the hybrid. Sensible, modern, and about as interesting as a microwave.

Then I noticed the Kingpin was already out of the shed. The non‑folding Kingpin, the proper one, standing there with the quiet self‑assurance of something that has survived several owners, and nearly six decades, and at least one misguided attempt at “improvement”. And I thought, well… feckit. Why not.

Out on the bridle path it rattled in that familiar, companionable way — not the alarming clatter of a Raleigh folder, which always sounds as though it’s trying to shed parts like a molting bird, but the gentle, lived‑in rattle of a bike that has seen things and would quite like to tell you about them. Every bump produced a small commentary. Every rut, a sigh.

By the time I reached the post office, I felt oddly triumphant, as though we’d completed some modest expedition together. The Kingpin, for its part, simply waited outside with the stoic dignity of an old friend who knows full well it’s the best version of itself, no hinges, no gimmicks, no pretence. Just a bicycle, doing its job.

Some durable evidence of this morning's ride.

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Great work - love the write up and photos, and envy your tenacity in piloting those little wheels over that terrain!