A Very Ferry Ride, not Forgetting Those Doughnuts (C#28)

Saturday 6 August, 113 Miles

Today was an opportunity to try something different. My usual ride to the Suffolk coast at Orford often includes a small detour to Orford Ferry. Well as today promised to be lovely and sunny I thought I’d go the extra mile. Actually, it turned out to be an extra five miles – so not much of the ‘extra’ really.  I followed the usual route to Woodbridge where I normally turn left and then head towards the coast. Today I turned right in Woodbridge and rode through Martlesham to the outskirts of Felixstowe along what were some surprisingly quite roads – waymarked as the Ipswich to Felixstowe cycle route.

I have no desire to visit Felixstowe. I once went there about 20 years ago and vowed never to return. It just wasn’t my kind of place – the archetypical British seaside resort. Namely, shabby and down at heel with ‘entertainment’ arcades and shops selling tat. The other main ‘attraction’ is the container port but that’s largely off limits to visitors. Of course I could be doing a great disservice to the place and it has probably picked itself up in the intervening 20 years. Do let me know if I’ve got this wrong and I’ll stand corrected.

So at the edge of Felixstowe I headed down a Quiet Lane. Note the use of capital letters here readers. The sign at the start proudly proclaimed it as a Quiet Lane for cyclists and walkers. And it was quite quiet. I counted five walkers, three joggers, three cyclists and one car emerging from a driveway. Perfect for a balmy Saturday morning.  Soon I could see the North Sea on the horizon and then I found myself riding through the middle of a golf course. Well I wasn’t actually riding on a fairway; the golf course ran along both sides of the road.

After a couple of bends, Felixstowe Ferry with its Martello Towers suddenly appeared and the road ended at the edge of the River Deben. Now lesser mortals may think that I would have to turn around and go back the way I had come. But no! By getting here I was on the very threshold of achieving today’s goal. Getting the bike across the river on the ferry. As I arrived, the ferry was ready and waiting. A quick walk down the jetty, a scramble over the side of the boat and I had boarded. No sooner that I was on board and we were off. I was the only passenger!

Chatting to the ferryman revealed that (a) he had already taken several cyclists across the river this morning; (b) he had no idea how wide the river was and wondered if my Garmin could work it out for him; and (c) if he had £1 for every passenger's photo he’d taken he reckoned he’d be a millionaire. So there you are! We were soon across the river and the Bianchi and I were back on terra firma. To celebrate I had an ice cream on the quayside; the Bianchi declined. Then we were off.

As I rode along the ‘standard’ route I thought of cutting the corner and giving Orford a miss today, instead going straight on to Snape. But the Bianchi had other ideas and so we soon found ourselves in Orford. I soon realised why the Bianchi had declined the earlier offer of an ice cream. Its heart was set on a doughnut. So we rolled up to the Pump Street Bakery which was as busy as ever and I bought the desired doughnut for the Bianchi. I had a skinny latté. Believe that if you will.

The rest of the ride was unremarkable. There were a couple of stretches of road which had just been tarred and chipped which is something I hate. The slippery surface, increased risk of punctures and the potential for stone chip damage or tar spots on the Bianchi’s frame are almost too horrible to contemplate. As this has been such a lovely day I’m not going to have a rant about this. Nearing home I was in high spirits and singing ‘Ferry Cross the Deben’ to the tune of ‘Ferry Cross the Mersey’. Try it sometime. You might be surprised!!  

The London 100 (C#27)

Sunday 31 July, 99.8+7.1 Miles

It’s 4:00am in north London and I’ve been woken up by the sound of a rooster crowing. I roll over, bury my head under my pillow but the rooster just gets louder and louder. Eventually I remember that it’s the alarm on my phone which I’ve set for 4:00am! I drag myself out of bed, have a quick wash, make and eat some porridge, gulp down a mug of tea and ease myself into the lycra. By 4:45 my bike is loaded on my car and I’m heading for the Lee Valley Ice Park about 10 miles away.

Within the first quarter of a mile I have my first sighting. Then a group of four, and then lots of ones and twos. Gradually I see more and more of them as I get closer to the Ice Park. The car park is full of them. I unload my bike, stuff my jersey pockets with gels and energy bars and grabbing my daysack, start riding the three miles to the Olympic Park. As I ride along I am joined by more and more of them – literally hundreds. Like bees returning to the hive, nearly 30,000 cyclists are converging on the Olympic Park for the start of the Prudential RideLondon-Surrey 100. I wonder if someone is filming this from a helicopter as it must be a spectacular sight. I am in one of many swarms all converging from every direction on a single point. The route is well signed and marshalled as I make my way to the start point to hook up with Paul and Rob. The three of us have been chosen to represent BOCUK (Bianchi Owners Club UK) for the event. We’ve never ridden together before and have only met briefly when we signed on yesterday. So apart from a little Facebook chit chat we are relative strangers. The wait for the start gives us a chance to chat a bit but each of us is also pretty focussed on the ride ahead.

The three 'BOCUK Brothers' (l-r: Paul, Rob, me)
All smiles at the start

Eventually, together with a couple of hundred other riders, we are out of our loading area and into the starting gate. (It will take around 3 hours to get everyone riding.) Then, with the pulsating beat of ‘Pump It Up’ by Danzel we’re off. The first mile or so is fairly steady as we get into a rhythm with each of us gauging the others’ riding technique. In no time at all we’re on the A12 whizzing past Canary Wharf and heading for the centre of London. It is a simply amazing feeling riding on traffic-free roads past some of the capital’s iconic landmarks. Even at this relatively early hour on a Sunday morning there are small groups of people on the pavements waving, clapping and cheering us on. And the speed is fast (for me at least) – well over 20mph. Nelson’s Column, Harrods and the Natural History Museum flash past as we head westwards. The three of us seem to be pretty well matched as we’re staying together without any difficulty.

Leading the field in Richmond Park

We cross the Thames on Chiswick Bridge and are soon into Richmond Park. Already 20 miles are under our wheels and we’ve been going for less than an hour. We cross over the Thames again on Kingston Bridge and we’re into Surrey. We’re constantly amongst a mass of riders, some slower than us, others faster. Concentration is essential, especially as some riders have a tendency to swing out without warning, or else they flash past millimetres from my shoulder. This is compounded as the roads get narrower the more we get into the countryside.

he North Downs beckon and the first real ascent comes soon after Newlands Corner. It’s not that steep but under a gradually warming sun, and with nearly 50 miles now in our legs it’s enough to raise the pulse rate a tad. Then we sweep down past Shere and Holmbury St Mary before turning north at Forest Green for the climb of Leith Hill. I rode up Leith Hill earlier in the year so I have a notion of what’s coming. It rises 145 metres over a distance of 2,120 metres at an average gradient of 7% (maximum 16%). On a narrow road with this many other riders I was not expecting to post a fast time. Actually getting up without having to stop could in itself be an achievement to shout about. In the event I completed it in 8:23. Simon Warren’s target time is 6:30. My ‘excuse’ for the 2-minute deficit is that I nearly got brought to a standstill by a car that somehow got out of a driveway and was also trying to go up the hill. A couple of marshals soon put a stop to that but I ‘know’ that I was stuck behind it for at least 2 minutes!!

Paul summits Box Hill

Paul, Rob and I had agreed that we would each do the climbs at our own pace so we regrouped at the top for the fast descent to Wescott and Dorking. A combination of dense shade, a rough road surface and lots of other riders made this quite a challenging section. Leaving Dorking we did the iconic climb of Box Hill. This is often called the Alpe d’Huez of the south east on account of its setting complete with a couple of hairpin bends. It’s a very popular climb and the last time I was here I had to wait at the bottom before I could start – it was a bit like queuing for a ski lift!

Up to this point everything had been going brilliantly. The three of us were riding well together and had even managed to have a few chats along the way.  We kept spotting other Bianchi riders and tried to work out if they were BOCUK members. Rob even tried to go on a mini recruitment drive to get some new members. Once I mentioned that there were no time bonuses for this he changed tack. All this meant that the miles were slipping by almost unnoticed.

Ascending a small rise just before Leatherhead I was brought back to earth with a bump. Or rather with the grinding, gnashing sound of metal on metal. Whilst changing down to a lower gear my chain had slipped off and became wrapped round my crank arm. I managed to freewheel to a stop without falling off. No matter what I tried I couldn’t free the chain. Every attempt to shift it made it get tighter. Damn! There was only one answer. I had to split the chain, free it up and re-join it. Fortunately, I had both a chain splitter and a magic link in my bag so I was able to do the necessary. The biggest casualty of this incident was my white handlebar tape because in my haste to get going again I had forgotten to put on the disposable gloves I carry before handling the greasy chain.

I was soon underway, but pedalling carefully until I was satisfied that the magic link was securely in place. I was feeling a bit dispirited because I felt that I had let Paul and Rob down and probably wouldn’t finish with them now. So I was pedalling along in my own little world trying to work out what message I should text to them when I rode up alongside another Bianchi rider. From my jersey Jo realised that we were both BOCUK members (Jo was in disguise wearing her club jersey). We had a nice little chat which lifted my spirits considerably and gave me the strength to try a spot of pursuiting to see if I could catch up with Paul and Rob. So I set off, giving myself 15 minutes to reach them otherwise I would text to say I would finish separately. After some really hard riding I eventually caught Paul near Esher and we rode on together to link up with Rob.

The 'BOCUK Brothers'
Still Smiling!

From Esher we headed back towards London. By now the pavements were crammed with spectators cheering us on. It was an amazing feeling and gave us a real boost – especially for Paul who was suffering with back pain. The last 15 miles sped by in a blur, with more and more people lining the pavements. With less than 10 miles to go we crossed the Thames on Putney Bridge and were soon onto the Embankment, flashing past the Houses of Parliament, up Whitehall to Trafalgar Square before turning under Admiralty Arch and sprinting up The Mall to the finish line.

What a ride! What a day. For me, it showcased some of the best that cycling has to offer. I met loads of other Bianchi riders with a smile, or a nod, or a wave, or a few words of mutual support. Seeing other BOCUK riders was like being in a large family and greeting cousins that you knew but had never met. And as for Paul and Rob; well they were my brothers for the day. So I say to them both: “Chapeau and Passione Celeste!” And if you don’t ride a Bianchi then you won’t understand and don’t know what you’re missing.

Eagle eyed readers may have noticed that the RideLondon-Surrey 100 was actually 99.8 miles. So I’ve added the extra 7.1 miles that I rode back to my car so I can claim this as one of my 60 Centuries.

Flat Fenland Foray (C#26)

Friday 29 July, 105 Miles

As regular readers of this blog will recall I’ve poked my pedals onto the edges of the Fens a few times. So I felt the time had arrived to go the whole way and have a full-on Fenland ride. Resting on my bookshelf is a copy of Best 100 Mile Bike Routes by Chris Sidwells. Now already I can feel you thinking "He’s got a book, this is becoming an obsession.” Well, obsession or not the book is quite interesting even if I'm unlikely to ever ride most of the routes described – there are a small number that I may be able to ride in time. But one of them caught my eye.

Bikes locked and loaded

Now the Fens can be a bleak and lonely place so I decided to do the ride with Daren, a friend and fellow Bianchista. We loaded our bikes onto my roof rack and drove over to the start of the route at Wisbech.  Wisbech is the capital of the Fens and in the past a thriving port. The town is closely linked to the development of the Fens, which at the time was fiercely opposed by local people (the Fen Tigers) who sabotaged much of the drainage works during the Civil War – Oliver Cromwell put the Tigers in their place and the drainage works then proceeded apace, creating the flat landscape of today. Agricultural land prices here are the highest in the country and crops are grown on an industrial scale.

After saddling up we headed north out of Wisbech aiming towards The Wash. We had only gone a few hundred yards when Daren experienced what cyclists refer to as a 'mechanical'. In a nutshell, something seemed to be out of alignment with his drive train which was emitting a loud clicking noise every time he pedalled hard. Riding behind him I could see his chain and rear derailleur arm jumping. Well, we tried all the obvious things without success and not being a quitter, Daren resigned himself to a less than ideal ride with the possibility of a repair bill at the end. There was also the risk of terminal damage along the way but perhaps rashly, that didn’t really feature in our thinking as we continued on our way.

We were soon across the River Nene at Sutton Bridge and over the county line into Lincolnshire. There was an increasing sense of remoteness and isolation as we rode along a quiet county lane which had just been tarred and chipped – the bane of the road cyclist’s life. We could sense, if not actually see The Wash a few hundred yards away – we were riding pretty well at sea level with a high embankment between us and the sea. About 12 miles to the east we could see Norfolk where the land rises gently upwards.

Definitely in The Fens

Turning gradually westwards we had our first taste of what was going to prove the major challenge of the day – wind. At 12-15 mph it had a significant effect on our progress. Pedalling directly into the wind on long straight roads with no shelter whatsoever became both a physical and a mental struggle. As we made our way towards Spalding our average speed ebbed away. What kept us going was the prospect of eventually turning east and getting the benefit of a tail wind. But the 30-40 westerly miles between Holbeach and Market Deeping were some of the hardest I had ridden for a long time.

We stopped for an alfresco lunch at Cowbit where the local village store and garage provided a sandwich and drink for us to refuel on. The garage forecourt had the usual bucket of cut flowers wrapped in cellophane on sale. But as this was the Fens there was an additional local speciality – leek plants wrapped in cellophane. I couldn’t help thinking that arriving at any of my friends or relatives bearing gift wrapped leeks was likely to be met with a degree of scorn. But maybe it’s the custom in these parts. And I haven’t got a clue if the leeks are meant to be eaten or planted!

Right turn in 6 miles!

Eventually we dragged ourselves back to our bikes and set off again for the final push west before, hopefully, being able to turn out of the wind. Our mood lightened considerably once we arrived at Market Deeping and turned south east. And our speed quickly picked up. When planning the route, I had noticed a long straight level road which I was keen to try out. By 'long' I mean 6 miles. By 'straight' I mean arrow straight. And by 'level', well the road drops 17 feet over the 6 miles. I know because I've measured it!!

By the end of the straight we were happily whizzing along at around 20 mph, interrupted occasionally by the clicking and clacking sounds of Daren’s chain. I was certainly glad that we hadn’t ridden the route the other way round because I'm not sure that I would have managed the 6 mile straight in a headwind.

The last part of the route back to Wisbech was relatively straightforward. Daren even tried to entice me to sprint against him at one point. (I declined.) We both agreed that it had been a unique experience, but not necessarily a wholly enjoyable one. This had also been Daren’s longest ride ever so was a cause for celebration. My suggestion of doing it again on a wind-clear crisp winter’s day was met with less than enthusiasm by Daren. Hmm.

And by way of a footnote. The cause of Daren’s mechanical turned out to be a broken bearing in the hub of his rear wheel.