Central London CTC blog

So, the yellow fever that gripped London in July didn’t last long.

Crystal Palace, sarf London: two men and a dog. The sponsors were struggling to give sun-hats away. A smattering of locals, a few clubs in kit, and, I suspect, most of the rest were friends and family. And us, thanks to a last-minute plan to have a short roll round Kent. No big screens, no enlightening commentary – even the riders, as they stormed over the line and turned to check their time, could see only a garbled mess of numbers.
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I was talked into doing the London Sportif by a few people at work and after a little bit of arm twisting I agreed to give it a shot. 200km (120 miles) is a long way, but it’s the Tour de France and a once in a life time opportunity so I could not say no. more »

It might have been the alarm that woke me at 4:50am but it could equally have been the rain hammering on the window. A glance outside confirmed metcheck’s forecast - heavy rain… and some. There might even have been animals forming pairs in the street for all I knew, for it was biblical out there.
Bed beckoned. But this was an event. Maybe even a one off. So the urge to clamber back in was dispatched… not with ease, more like tackling Huez on 120″… in a rubber clown suit.
On the plus side, it resolved my clothing decisions - though sou’wester and galoshes seemed more appropriate than pertex and overshoes. After a bowl of porridge, the bike was loaded into the van and off I set to Greenwich for a 6:30 start. Thankfully, the rain was easing off. more »

Registering on the Saturday was a nightmare - it was utter chaos. The queues were miles long, it was pouring with rain and there was no shelter, and we queued for over an hour for our timing chips and numbers. Up till then I’d been mentally congratulating the organisers for not wasting rainforests and doing all the newsletters etc via the internet instead of the post. Bad idea guys! Anyway, we just prayed the race itself would be better organised. more »

A May Day special. Not on May Day, because we now have a politically inexact May Bank Holiday.

Here’s the route (including the two small navigational malfunctions).

We set off from Stortford (after a tour of the back end of the shopping centre) towards Manuden, but were befuddled by lack of signage, so ended up in Stansted Mountfichet.

From there it was plain (but damp) sailing via Manuden to Clavering, on fast, undulating roads with a tailwind and hardly any traffic, thence via Arkesden to Elmdon. Just after Arkesden I was foolish enough to take off my jacket - this resulted in the rain turning from drizzle to torential at Elmdon, where we took advantage of a particularly well-built and spacious Audax Hotel and engaged in quiet and civilised social intercourse (or chatting, as it’s otherwise known) until the rain returned to drizzle status.

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Day 1 – the unknown
Reach base. Unload. Nearest coffee and cigarettes? Wissant. 6km. We’re off. A short haul up out of our hamlet. Ouch. Bit of flat coast road. Fields. Mist. Long, long, slow downhill. Past two farms and left into Wissant. Coffee. Cigarettes. Chocolate. Repeat. Best get back. Whence the way we came. Past two farms. Then a long, long “Oh sh..” Grab for the granny and fixate desperately on a bath. Neither helps. Legs and lungs still rubbery as we wobble one by one back down to base, stop, and keel over.

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Over the rude winter months, a few of us had been plotting: What about a quick flit over the Channel for a change of scenery? So, come the Friday after Easter, five of us (John, Camille, Paul, Inez and myself) assembled at Charing X. A peaceful train to Dover, a short twitch to the port, and soon we were on board, ready for lunch. The International Food Court beckoned. Well what should we have expected? Very soon, time to disembark and off to Escalles, following the coast road via Sangatte and trying to go the correct way round roundabouts. Most of us were carrying rucsacs, and I could definitely feel the effect on handling - a rather unpleasant skitterish feeling. along with the noticeable added weight on my rear suspension. The sudden steep & curving drop to the village would have been more fun if I had not been worried my wardrobe would arrive before me.Great hotel - friendly greeting from Madame, garage for the bikes, everything sorted speedily. I’m sure it helped that all of us made the effort to always talk to the locals in their language - they may have sniggered afterwards at our attempts, but we got constant smiles and welcomes everywhere.

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Nick, Paul Foster, Inez, Camille and John plus newbie Dymmock tried out the route for the 8 July ride from Borough Green to the CTC party at Brenchley and to watch the Tour.

It’s 30km from Borough Green to Brenchley if you go as the (mountain-climbing) crow flies. Due to the undulations, I’d allow at least 1h30min to complete the trip.

We soon got into pretty lanes within 5 mins of leaving Borough Green and set off over the lumps (one of them 10%) via Dunks Green. Then the fast bit through Hadlow and East Peckham to the foot of the hill that Brenchley lives on, with the annoying temporary traffic lights at the top.

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