The Birthday Rides
Posted on Monday 11 August 2008 by Nick Bloom
…a celebration of the Freedom Pass.
A simple 3* ride, from Chalk farm to Newton via Hertford North, with with an easy escape home from Cambridge. Or so we planned before checking the trains. No Hertford North service. No Cambridge service. Hum. Plan B, with an added C, and D on the return.
7.55 am found a dozen or more assembled outside the Big Chef in East Finchley, the Central London Club House manqué. Up past Tally Ho - No Dr. Bob?, then a pink jersey flies past, pulling faces at us. All up. The good Dr’s devious detour around Potters Bar means we miss the next meeting point, but a quick call and three more join at Kentish Lane. Little grind up. Wheeee down Essendon- first time I’ve ridden that with a freewheel in a few years. Soon Geoff takes the main bunch off for coffee at Hertford North station, whilst three of us head for Hertford East to meet those on the ‘rolling start’. A little delay to make use of Tesco’s services - McD’s at Potters Bar was tested earlier, not exactly supping with the devil but…
Hertford East station is cunningly trapped by one-way systems, with a road closure added for today. With a zig and a zag and a cut across a car park we end up on Bengeo Hill. Haul up, then at the top the wind hits our backs and we were off, a few rises but overall down, hammering the big ring. B158 to Wadesmill, up the old A10 across to Standon, then follow the B1368 to lunch. En route we spot the others, who were peeling off on a scenic diversion via Thriplow. No problems keeping the rate up, surprisingly few complaints in my ear. But a doubt. We may pass this way again, and the wind will not be so kind.
Half an hour ahead of schedule we pull into Newton, to be greeted by the ‘very relaxed start’ group. A chat or two and Geoff brings in the rest - we’re 23 in all . Some in, some out, we almost fill the tiny pub. Plates of cheese, plates of beef, mugs of soup. Despite Nework Rail we’re all here, regardless of ability. Good company is as much our tradition as riding.
A few head off after lunch to Audley End or Royston and home. The rest as a group on to Grantchester Orchard, via a private farm road. The church clock may indeed say ten to three, but I forget to look. We recline in deck chairs, chasing plump wasps from jam scones and listened to Geoff reading from Rupert Brookes, desirous of a Neo-Neo Paganism.
Homeward. A general decision to make for Royston. As soon as on the exposed farm the battering starts. A truly vicious head wind, with sudden unsettling gusts. A group make some semblance of riding together to help each other, and manage to press on. Gently rising roads felt like stiff climbs, with no ridge to crest for relief. But a sign came, to Royston, to the station, to a waiting train.
Thanks to all, a fine day out.
