Central London CTC blog

I tried hard to find an excuse for not riding the 100km on Saturday, but none came. So 06.30 alarm, coffee and cereal, out the door at 07.30. To a flat rear tyre – slow puncture on the Landy. Divert to petrol station to inflate, then a clear run round the North Circular and up the M11 to Patmore End. Once off the main road, the verges were sodden and muddy, the ramp to the Victoria clubhouse almost liquid. Collect Brevet, slither back to the roadside waiting for the off. There’s a good entry, the local clubs in force, familiar faces, a few nervous newcomers. more »

What a great ride!

About eight of the Purple Peloton turned out including me, Stephen, Keith, Naomi, Phil Magnus, Rogers C and F and Kay (apologies to any I’ve missed). more »

As sometimes audaxes can seem tediously hard work, sometimes they are simply enjoyable (and a flat summer 100 in Essex has the odds stacked in its favour).  The start although tucked away, is only a km or so from Chelmsford station – it’s slightly disconcerting to see Chelmer CC’s racing contingent streaming past in aero helmets for their annual time trial competition. more »

Not all of us enjoy Audax. Of its nature, Audax is an event for individuals, and self-sufficiency, of equipment and navigation, a requirement. That is the challenge we accept I guess.

I bunked off for the day for the Wednesday Wander 200 out of Ruislip, another Rocco/Liz production. The forecast was not ideal, cloud and squally winds heading in from the west. I was running late for the start as I drove down the A40. A big stone chip flew off the opposite carriageway and starred the windscreen – not a good auspice. I signed on (a meagre dozen or so riders) and was just about ready to go at 8:00 when I was reminded to pay for the car park. As I fiddled with purse and ticket machine, the party left. more »

No matter if you know the route,  the Bluebell Ride  always holds out the promise of surprise and delight. By contrast with last year, when it rained heavily, this year’s edition promised good sunshine. I arrived to find  a good posse of our own who had arrived by train, and at the last moment even George showed up.

That was the last I saw of him: he, Richard, Rory and Roger got out of the car park promptly and disappeared down Saint Martin’s Drive amidst the green-and-white jerseys of the home side, Willesden CC, while a group of Keith and Naomi, Stephen, Charlie and me was still dawdling about. more »

We let the fast boys get away, said goodbye to our escorts through suburbia, and watched Keith, Naomi, John, James, Richard and Paul go up the road, leaving Nick and I to roll through Essex in the drizzle feeling rather more autumn than spring. Just at the point of warming up, if not drying out, there was a warning of ‘diesel’ and a group clustered by the side of the road, which I thought was ‘not us’…. until Paul’s phone-call requesting a Land Rover to the rescue.

So, the Land Rover pilot headed back (safely via the signposted short route). After a moment’s hesitation, I said a quick prayer to the God of Gatorskins, and put my head down. Apart from the odd fairy victim speeding past me, all there was for company was my average speed and the plentiful jaunty yellow route-signs. The rest were still at the half-way checkpoint when I rolled in, but shortly left me to the home-made flapjack on offer.

Essex was fairly peaceful, with even a glimmer of sunshine, and reasonable headway was made – bar pauses to scarf fig-rolls. By the time I started to flag as suburbia hove into view, I was managing to pass more than passed me. The time-keepers were still waiting with cheery smiles, pleased by the assurance of a good if slightly boring day, and keen to re-assure us Paul had been picked up and transported back slowly but safely, with suspected torn ligaments. Really well organized and friendly, so do look out for this next year – hopefully I’ll have some company.

The Stevenage Start of Summertime Special has acquired an almost ritual status in the Central London CTC calendar. So it was no surprise to find Roger and Kay, Steven, Richard and a newcomer, James, already sitting out front of Costello’s Café at the départ. Despite the promise of a fine day, it was winter-chilly, with not an ankle in sight. more »

BANG! Clatter-clatter-clatter! “Oh b*llocks!” (or worse).

Thus the exploding transmission announces itself, generally on a hill as you’re putting your back into it, sometimes tromping across a major road through a gap in the onrushing traffic.

It can be a comedic moment for the subject’s fellows, though the guffaws soon die on their lips when they realize how long it’s going to take to fix. Let’s face it, repairing transmissions with the tools we generally take out on the road isn’t the matter of a moment. And standing around in a sodden hedgerow while the subject wrestles with the bike is no barrel of laughs. Funnily enough, it’s happened on my last three CTC rides. I forebear to name the guilty parties – they know who they are. more »