Central London CTC blog

Rory’s début ride lead looked like it would be zapped by the weather. ‘The worst storm of the year’ piled in on Saturday afternoon, tearing bits off trees and sending scaffolding crashing to the ground. Shortly before my alarm went on Sunday morning, rain was still falling heavily. But by the time I got out of the door, there was a perfect calm and the sky was clear blue and cloudless.

Five of us entrained in the grubby end of Paddington, heading for Twyford: Rory, Stephen, Keith, Bob, and I. At our destination, a cheery newcomer, Tim, joined us. One could see Bob sceptically eyeing up Tim’s brown Dawes Galaxy with its baroque Brooks saddle and heavy Schwalbe tyres.

In the event the equipment was well chosen. As we worked our way round Remenham Hill in the lanes towards the bridge at Marlow, we saw clearly the damage wrought by the storm. Tree debris, gravel washout, mud, and leaf porridge spewed across the potholed road surfaces. My Italian race tyre was the first to puncture, just by the Henley Rowing Club. We crossed the Bridge and, as we climbed out of the Thames valley to explore the villages on the southernmost extent of the Chilterns, Stephen’s Armadillo was next. Happily Rory had provided a tuck in the route, so we left  Keith to assist Stephen and pushed on around the planned loop. But then, as we made our way down a bumpy descent, it was Bob’s turn to puncture. The vaunted Conti 4 Seasons had not saved him. Rory stayed behind, while Tim and I pressed on through the flood at the valley’s bottom to claim our lunch table.

It was this advance party that arrived at the appointed hour of 12.15 at The Frog in Skermit (ha ha), with the other puncture victims trailing in a few minutes later. The fare at The Frog is outstanding, with a price tag to match; it cannot be said we hurried through lunch. After perhaps an hour, Bob was enjoined to install a new tube. All went well until he spotted the gash in the tyre’s sidewall through which the tube was extruding. Fixing this meant everything had to come apart again, including the fiddly dynohub connectors. But the pub’s car park is in a delightful sylvan setting, and with the sun warm enough by now for people to dine outdoors, we felt no need of haste; nor did the remaining four of the ‘Chiltern Challenge’ party, still lingering indoors over their luncheon. It was not until 2 o’clock that we all remounted, surely a record lunchtime.

Then came a rather long ascent up through the woods, with the road getting subtly steeper at each turn. No, not the granny ring! Oh, then Bob’s tyre gave way. So Rory had to take another tuck in the route (top marks for American organization man here) and we streamed back southwards towards Henley at pace. See, this is how I roll, yeah?

As we approached Henley, Bob’s tyre gave way again. OK Bob, we say, this is where we leave you at the roadside with a broken tyre lever and loaded revolver, in the expectation that every man will do his duty.

Well no we didn’t, of course. We saw him to a train at Henley, and we saw him again at Twyford station where, with the daylight of a truly splendid day fading, we arrived in perfect time for the London-bound train. Mr Rhodes, thank you … goodnight, and good luck!