Central London CTC blog

I’ve done Audaxes and a charity ride, but never a full blown sportive complete with electronic chips, feed stops and large entry fee. Most of them are too far way for a same day train journey, and look a bit over-organised, so I hadn’t done one. Until this October, when I noted that the Cycling Weekly sportive was based close to Dorking station, and fancied a bit of a challenge to end an otherwise fairly unremarkable season.

Also, I don’t like being made to wear a lid. Since Martin has had his say a few weeks ago, my turn for a bit of politics: the CTC line is not just about personal freedom, but about the dubious evidence and the diversionary effect on addressing the causes of crashes. If you want to see more look at www.cyclehelmets.org – it will give an answer to any convictions you may have that a helmet has saved your life/brain cells, among other scientific information. more »

I was distinctly uncommitted. I had not made a plan to meet anyone, nor booked a train ticket. I had not even set my alarm. If I happened to wake up at 5.30 I’d do the ride, if not I would sleep on as others audaxed away their Saturday. This meant that effectively I had left it in the hands (or more accurately paws) of the cat. 5.10, “miaow, miaow”, Ziggy requests an early breakfast, and before I know what my name is I’m up and off into the dark. As I ride through Old Street clubbers shiver their way home in the autumn chill. I cross London Bridge as a hint of royal blue comes through the blackness off the clear night sky and the gherkin looms over the dozy river. more »

‘It was twenty years ago today, Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play’

When the Beatles released their Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album, those of us who were twenty then also remember another song

‘When I’m Sixty-four.”

Back then it seemed

‘Many years from now”

Paul met us at Welwyn North to lead a ride celebrating his safe arrival at this age. The day promised to be fine, sunny and hot as we were enjoying an Indian summer. Thirty riders assembled at the station and Eleanor and Susie joined us for the group photo.

The group photo.

more »

The Ride of the Falling Leaves has a reputation for terrible weather, and last year’s edition was a scary slitherfest. This year, the contrast could not be greater. A record-breaking week of perfect sunshine and temperatures in the high 20s continued into the Sunday of the event.

Bone-dry roads and unbroken sunshine meant summer kit: our squad of five were all on their best bikes, in short sleeves, and with not so much as a rain jacket between us.

We were among a large crowd at event HQ, Herne Hill velodrome, where we spotted among the many Dulwich Paragon jerseys of the promoting club our old friend and former clubmate Richard Ireland, looking bronzed, indeed seared, from a sojourn on the bike in Spain, and doubtless in good form having completed the end-to-end earlier this year.

In ideal conditions such as these, no doubt their crack riders would be intent on setting personal bests, and perhaps indeed breaking the course record. Nothing so ambitious was on our minds, though as always with sportives, there would be no dawdling, especially as we were enjoying the company of Raph, Damian’s French pal and a fearless descender. more »

We had been unable to take our desired late summer break cycling in France, so decided to sample the delights of south Wales near to Geoffrey’s birthplace in Swansea on a short break. Our destination was the small market town of Llandilo, nestling to the west of the Brecon Beacon range. Three hours on the train to Swansea, and just over an hour on the single coach to Llandilo to settle in to our luxurious hotel for a two night stay.

I was barely recovered from yet another bout of something or other, so was doubtful about my performance. But on our first morning our spirits were lifted by a sharp descent on to the first severe climb of the day. Quiet roads and lovely upland scenery, if you like the sort of thing:

And we do! more »

The website said “Easy ride largely on quiet roads”. And so it proved. It must have been one of the shortest 1* rides on record, only about 21km. After coffee at the start at Welwyn Garden City we followed the Ayot Greenway, a former railway line, to Wheathampstead, about an hour’s ride. more »

“Like a snail crawling along the edge of a straight razor; that’s my dream, that’s my nightmare” – so Colonel Kurtz in Apocalypse Now. My own waking nightmare is forever descending a wet chip-and-seal road, gripless front tyre affording neither braking nor steering.

So it was for me, again, as the Circuit of Kent Sportive surged forth through the lanes east of the start at Godden Green. I thought I had recovered from the psychological damage wreaked by a previous major episode of wheel wobble. Besides, that had been a different bike; there was no reason that today’s mount, a stock Cervélo, should not behave as seen on TV. more »

Down for a hilly **** in the Chilterns, we were forced to change venue at short notice after eagle eyed Richard Philpott noticed on Friday night that our train was cancelled . Other lines were closed or limited in a display of engineering works dramatic even by Bank Holiday weekend standards, so I switched to Kings Cross for Welwyn North with numerous e-mails and phone messages sent out late on Friday night.

With all that I was gratified when Mike Evans and Julia Moye joined me at Kings Cross, to be sent off by Uncle Geoff, who had arrived to do so on his town bike, attired as a gentleman should be on a Sunday morning. more »