Windmill 100
Posted on Monday 2 July 2007 by Nick Bloom
It has not been merry bicycling weather. As last week went by, the forecast stayed resolute, and come Saturday, I was relieved work kept me indoors. But, just as predicted, the rain stopped in time for there to be no excuses. 08.32 Liverpool St to Chelmsford, slight deviation to find the start, Camille and I are signed to go, the only fixers on the ride, the only ones without mudguards. I inhale, Camille eats a banana. Then, once more exactly as forecast, it began to spit. And splot. A steady rain became a driving rain. We weren’t driving. But, with the wind behind us and a gently rolloing route, we kept a good pace up through the Walthams and Felsted. Almost missed a turn at the water tower - staring down at routesheet, didn’t see it above my head. Although my cape had wetted out and stuck to my arms for a while, therainbelt had passed over and I was dry again by the time we reached the first control at Finchingfield - a clutch of sweet Essex DA stalwarts tucked in a bus shelter. Whilst Camille eats a banana, I admired a classic Longstaff tandem trike, complete with freewheel chainset for the stoker.
On to the info at Castle Camps, capes off as the day warmed. Slightly more enthusiastic rolling through Saffron Walden and Newport, and beginning to notice a headwind as we ignored a few more showers en route to the ‘Uts at Henham - this time Victoria CC, up a track for a much appreciated cup of tea and slice of fruit cake (or a banana in Camille’s case).
More headwind through High Easter and Gt Dunmow, then the sort of instruction I hate: ‘L@T sp Pleshey, follow for 11k’ I have a bad habit of settling into a long straight stretch at a leisurely pace, but Camille was not so inclined - when, in the final 1/4 of the ride, given performance thus far you think you’re going to have to carry her in, but actually although hurting, she can more than keep up - so we sped along to Chignall to cut back through the park. As it was a cycle route, I almost got us lost again. But we emerged to the ring road, and crossed to the arrivee for for complimentary tea and cakes. And bananas.
Meteor Way is a strange relic of post-war planning. The decaying shell of an eponymous fighter juts out amongst a collection of pre-fabs, housing the past times of a bygone day. Past the scout HQ, the Chelmer CC hut backs onto the Chelmsford Model Engineering Society, complete with miniature railway. A large man, a leather drivers cap perched on his head, straddles a very small loco, fiddles with the burnished brasswork. With a shrill hiss of steam from the boiler, he beams as the pistons pull their load on the clattering track. A collection of strange contentment.
Great ride, perfect routesheet. Back in town by 6pm - one for next year’s ride list.
Camille’s side of the story:
No excuses, no wimps, no whingers
So I showed as instructed. (Were we the only ones under 103?). The forecast ‘weather’ started right on cue. But after we established the wisdom of both reading the route sheet, good progress was made. Heavy rain in midmorning wilderness left no option but to get wet. Very wet. The controls were simple, efficient, and did not lend themselves to lingering. I was allowed to take it easy coming up to the hill in Saffron Walden, but no talk of wimping or waterproofs for the next shower were tolerated.
Complicated wind directional calculations were, ultimately, pointless. What was saving us from more rain was a resolute againsterly. A respite for lunch / breakfast at an ’ut, then push on and keep faith with the ultimately reliable route sheet. The straight run in to Chelmsford in the teeth of a headwind was an all or nothing decision. So it was into Aussie sprinter mode, head down and deep into the drops, the legs are going to complain anyway.
Psycyle route notwithstanding, we made it back. They were rather put out I declined endless cups of tea. But thank you, I will have another banana.