The usual suspects gathered at Marylebone: Martin Hayman, Keith and Naomi, Matthew Wright, Damian, Roger and Kay and Phil Coleman. Elevenses and late lunch rather than a long stop were planned and I think worked out OK.

Super picturesque Hambleden has the village shop for cake and coffee, and an interesting insight into rural life provided as I sat inside. A pair of locals discussed the tribulations of the farming community: “It was a drive by shooting…”.  I pricked up my ears – well you have to – to learn of a saga involving (allegedly) sheep worrying labradors and a farmer resorting to firearms to deal with the problem.

Up Pheasants Hill and through Marlow to the notorious one in three concrete ramp used for practising for the bergs of the Tour of Flanders randonee. It’s a good test in summer, but unfortunately there is just too much moss and lichen for anybody to do anything other than walk up – apart from Matt on his bomb-proof expedition tourer with tractor tyres and ultra-low gearing who rode all the way.

Then a late lunch at West Wycombe tea rooms. Naomi explained why she had decided against being named “Mrs. Woolf-Butcher” and Keith talked about jokes about elves. We still had a couple of hours to go before dark, so I suggested continuing the route of the “Chilly” to end up in Amersham, but this involves complications with trains, so most went straight back to Princes Risborough, with yours truly showing Matt a longer way back up a few extra hills.

Part of this involved descending Kop Hill: I reckon the best one to reach high speeds due to its long straight run. It’s where I do my Mark Cavendish impersonation, reaching 70 – 75 kph (OK, he has to pedal whereas I don’t). For the first time for many years, as soon as I hit 70 kph I got a severe speed wobble/shimmy. The physics and causes of this have long been debated: maybe the cause was the Race Guards catching wind. Whatever the cause, be assured this was nearly a brown bib-shorts moment. Not to be recommended, and if it does happen to you, don’t jam on the brakes. Also, one bit of advice is to grab the top tube with your knees.

“Did you know your back wheel was moving side to side Bob?” said Matt who was behind me. Yes, I did.

Sixteen riders met a St Pancras for the 38 minute ride to Ashford on 23 October. We quickly escaped Ashford and sped through the Stour Valley towards the hills.

Our time in the North Downs started with a run along the old Pilgrim’s Way, undulating below the southern escarpment. Then a turn to cycle across the grain of the hills, up to the viewpoint at Farthing Common, then another down and up, then a long fast but gentle downhill to the edge of Dover.

We crossed the town to the seafront midway between the docks and for lunch in the bar of the Dover Marina Hotel. We were able to eat outside in the autumn sunshine with views of the castle, the sea, the ferries, the coast of France and, as promised, the White Cliffs.

Lunch done, we took a long climb back to the top of the Downs and the escarpment first above the sea, then above Folkestone, then above the Channel Tunnel railway yards.

We descended to the seafront at Hythe, where one of the group had gone ahead for a swim, and onto Romney Marsh for a flat section. The leader took a very near miss from a motorist who had thought it much better to risk injury to himself and others rather than undergo the ordeal of a minute’s delay to his journey.

Unharmed, we took a last climb over the Greensand ridge and a fast return to Ashford along the Roman Road. We were back in London by 1800. It was 95 km – map of the ride here.

On the Devil's Dyke

The wind on the hilltop got up, so we moved inside for coffee, and then, rested, set off downhill into Brighton. We went up and down some rather steep residential streets on the northern edge of the city, past a windmill. Then the second big climb, out of the city and over Ditchling Beacon, another great viewpoint and a famous challenge for cyclists, although normally tackled from the north.

Descending from Ditchling Beacon

The rest of the afternoon was a meander though the small climbs, woods and villages of the High and Low Weald, now in East Sussex. We stopped at Sheffield Park for tea, slightly disappointed to find that the tearoom (formally independent) was closed during the peak season in order to be National Trustified, a fact that the NT had not bothered to put on their website. The wagon in the car park served a limited alternative, however, and we had a pleasant break on the picnic tables under the trees.

I may have overdone the Earl Grey and carrot cake, as I was struggling a little on the last section, leading the group back to the station from the back marker position.

We did 99km and a lot of climbing (1500m). Map of the ride is here. More photos are here.

The weather forecast promised well – cold and sunny with the possibility of a few showers later in the day. So all looked well.

And then …

First off I got a call from a new guy Matt, who said he could take in long rides. He turned up at Marylebone on a (nuclear) bomb proof expedition tourer weighing what appeared to be about 20kg plus pannier. And he is about 85kg. And the ride was advertised as hilly. Next off we met Tim with his Dawes Super Galaxy at Princes Risborough station who announced that he was a bit tired after a 100km hilly in the rain the day before.

How would these two fare with myself, Roger (minus Kay who had turned up at the station but returned home with her cold) and Mike Evans all on relatively lighter bikes? Well, just fine as it happened. A quick tea stop in picturesque Hambleden, then up the infamous Pheasants Hill where – I kid you not – a pheasant calmly crossed the road in front of me, then into Marlow for lunch as the rain began to fall.

And then …

We left the cafe into steady rain, taking the infamous concreted private one-in-three climb with only Matt able to avoid wheel-slip on the combination of moss, mud and horse droppings while the rest walked. We were now looking at getting seriously wet. Matt very kindly loaned me his overtrousers while the rest soldiered on into forceful rain for an hour and a half with what must have been cold as well as wet legs.

Dear CTC comrades, please be assured that despite a momentary thought of a bailout from one of us, we all struggled on in the cold and wet, riding up what seemed like rivers on the remaining hills. It was wet and cold, we were wet and cold, but on we continued.

Back at Princes Risborough station we consulted the three GPS systems (yes, it has come to this). Mike had 791 metres of climbing over the 60 kms, Matt 1200 metres. With half of the old Chilly Hilterns (as we used to call it) done plus the ride to and from it, I would guess at a happy medium of 1000 metres climbed.

We are CTC. We do not flinch from our stated task.

Four of us braved the drear damp of a Sunday morning to meet at London Fields. This is also the starting point of the famed Dunwich Dynamo. Our ride was not so ambitious but it had something of the same flavour as we too wanted to reach the sea. Even more than green fields and woodland the sea represents a great escape from London.

The wind would be on our backs so we were set fair for a fast ride. Scraps of East London fell away as we headed out through Walthamstow and Chigwell and into the Essex countryside. With a tailwind we flew along undulating country lanes with the hedgerows almost a blur alongside us. In fact we were making such pace that original plans for lunch at  Ingatestone were scratched when we arrived there well before eleven o’clock. It was decided we should carry on to our destination at Maldon to eat.

We had chosen Maldon on the Blackwater Estuary so almost the sea.  Certainly it has been a port since Saxon times and, famously, it had been the scene of a Viking Invasion in 991.  It is also the home of brown sailed Thames barges which were moored along the riverside. When we arrived, however, the tide was out and the sea still seemed away off. We were not disappointed as we had made good time and had outrun the weather. Over fish and chips in a riverside pub we planned future rides closer to the sea, perhaps to Bradwell, along the coast a little.

After lunch we headed straight back to Chelmsford. It was a short ride but turning into the wind and after a heavy lunch (the pub was generous with the chips) it seemed harder work than the seventy kilometers from London.  Jon’s excellent navigation found our way to the station with two minutes to spare for the fast train back to London where some of us went for a final coffee at Look Mum No Hands.

We detrained at Knebworth and after some delay and low-rent banter at Dr Bob’s expense, nearly a dozen set off for an anti-clockwise loop around Stevenage (geddit?) and Baldock, to end at Emily’s tearooms in Whitwell. The aim was to complete the 50 miles in 4 hours, a mere bagatelle for real cronometrists but a proper challenge for our crew.

It was windy, and as we turned north at Watton-at-Stone, the full force of the gale made itself felt. With Roger leading the charge, we were soon flying along at well over 40 kph. Several of our number had taken the trouble to wear the club colours and on the wide lanes through Walkern, Wallington and Ashwell, in double file and swapping the lead around, we could almost have been mistaken for a sporting club.

Our ambitions were put into perspective when a small squad of Hertford CCs eased past us. And when we reached the turn just beyond Hinxworth and came up into the eye of the wind, oh dear! Now we were grovelling. There is no other word for it. On a steady rise to the exposed bridge over the A1 at Edworth, our progress was scarcely better than walking pace. In fact just staying on board the bike was challenge enough.

A brief turn northwards through Langford offered some respite, but then the westerly struggle resumed. Our squad strung out and fragmented, all pretence of a contre-la-montre experience abandoned. A faction even lobbied for a tea stop at a lay-by snack trailer: permission denied!

As the route bent southwards, the wind moved to our quarter, and we were able to regroup. But an outcrop of the Chilterns lay between us and our destination and caused another fracture as the more bloody-minded stomped up Gravel Hill. Their number did not include our birthday boy. But the high ground once overcome, Stephen put in a late surge to lead the group in and take the village sign at Whitwell, as was right and proper. Overall time for the parcours was a surprising 3:30, allowing plenty of time to loaf around at Emily’s tearoom congratulating each other on our day’s defiance of Aeolus.

Riders: Stephen, Keith, Naomi, Roger, Kay, Jon, Brenda, Andrew, Mike, Bob, Martin

Route map here.

Birthday tea in the shed: (L–R) Stephen, Martin, Keith, Naomi

L–R: Jon, Keith, Stephen, Bob, Mike, Andrew, Brenda

All three turned up!

The ride started at Golders Green where James met me. We arrived at Tally Ho to find Phil inserting a replacement wheel which Jim had found for him – an advantage of Jim living walking distance from the meeting point. The Finchley RT was meeting next to us – fifteen tough roadmen in identical team kit. I knew a couple of them from when we were in the Paddington CC 25 years ago together, so chewed the fat with them while Phil inserted the new wheel.

After 40 kms we arrived at Hertford North to find Jon McColl, Naomi and Keith, Roger and Kay, Ruth and Mike Evans, new guy Mark, American pilot Mark who was using his week in the UK to good effect, hybrid biked Natasha and Chris Leigh. Fifteen up, although Roger and Kay stayed with us just for a bit.

Off to Westmill, although Keith and Naomi went to a new café in Buntingford. A good pace with no problems for Tash (what do you expect if she only weighs 56 kgs.?)

We then did 40 kms hilly back to Hertford North, arriving just in time for most of those left to do a mad scamper up the stairs for the 15.12 train back. The four left enjoyed a relaxed cup of tea, Jim and I trained back while Phil and James (going back to Putney) rode back.

Wet and potholed under wheel, so lucky to get only three punctures. 100km on the clock for me, about 70 for most of the rest, 130 for Phil and Andrew had  170km. Not bad for an overcast January day.

Jon’s circular to the usual suspects prompted a mere 5 to show at London Fields, 2 of whom, Keith (injury) and our secretary Stephen (‘otherwise engaged’) were the send-off committee, leaving only Naomi, Jon and me to ride the course. We set out at 8 sharp and Jon’s familiar escape from East London route got us clear of the enormous crowd of riders, on a warm but overcast evening.

The long drag through Epping Forest saw Suffolk-bound riders lined out as far as the eye could see. For the most part car drivers left us alone, though the we did note a Lamborghini driver nailing it. But that’s Saturday night out in Epping for you.

Our planned picnic stop was at the same place as last year, a broad sward (dry and straw-like this year) overlooking the turn at Great Dunmow. Here we hollered out to alert scores, possibly even hundreds of passing riders to make this key right turn rather than forge on northwards towards Saffron Walden.

It was a pity we did not have such an angel ourselves when we made our turn on to a lane stated by the route sheet to be ‘well-concealed’ – we made the elementary blunder of assuming that other people knew where they were going. The lane turned quickly into a narrow, tree-roofed tunnel and our companions, keen but I thought inexperienced, altogether too enthusiastic about slamming it on the invisible, gravelly surface.

Jon called the group to order and a route conference by his map soon put us back in the right direction for the halfway food stop in Castle Hedingham. This was a new location and already very busy when we got there. Most of the Dulwich Paragon seemed to have turned out (including our sometime member Richard Ireland) and there was also a big group of Horsham Wheelers. We had eaten recently, so passed on food and headed for the Suffolk border at Sudbury.

One of the curiosities of the Dynamo is that all of a sudden you can find yourself in the midst of a large, or very large group, swarmed around by club boys, sportive riders, fixie fashionistas, and old-school Audaxers. Then just as soon, you have the road completely to yourself again; it is as if they were never there. So it was after Stowmarket when we turned on to the eastbound A1120 and found there were just 3 of us, plus a random recumbent guy who obviously didn’t do groups.

It was wasn’t quite so dark now. We rolled along this well-surfaced, rolling road, normally heavily trafficked but now empty, for some 20 km, at a pleasing allure, arriving in Yoxford around 4.30 and within easy striking distance of our destination. There was the usual hectic rush for the line across Dunwich Heath (I speak for myself) and, as the first one in at just past 5, I was obliged to stake out our place in the already-long queue at the café.

Here to our surprise we found Chris, who told us he had infiltrated the Paragons and arrived the best part of an hour before us. As a veteran 400-km Audaxer, Chris was all set to ride back to London; sensibly he decided to do the companionable thing and join us for the 50-km hack back to Ipswich for the Liverpool Street train. Our augmented party was back in town before 11, after another very entertaining night out on the bike.

We found Rory Rhodes, who gave us the sad news that he is due to return to the USA shortly; Paul Lohr, trying to get some fitness for the Easter tour; Doug, over from the US for short time; and Andy and Adam, trying to get fitness for Etape du Tour. Andy rang in the week – so that shows that occasionally people who ring actually DO turn up on the day!

I encouraged Andy and Adam saying that they looked good, but would need to get more steady miles in and preferably a couple of weeks in France before the big day in July. I hope I didn’t put them off – for the record, I think they look strong enough. But there is no substitute for plenty of miles and some weight loss if you want to do 3,400 metres climbing and 180km – in the heat.

Geoff went back home, and six of us set off for the tea room at Westmill by the hilliest route possible (that’s what it said in the route description). Paul found the pace fast but stayed with the group until after he had done some 60km at Braughing and improved his fitness as required. On the whole it was a fast ***, more like a **** – but that’s what people were happy with, so there you go.

My usual route, with a quick drink at Great Hampden, with the hilly bit from Braughing, Standon Ford to Barwick Ford to say hello to the Alpacas – and the route discovery of the day, thanks to Paul.

This was going through the grounds of Sacombe House (it says Private Road but is a bridleway) from Sacombe Green. This allows you to get back to Stonyhills (on the route from Hertford) without using the A602. You still have to be careful crossing the main road, but you don’t actually have to ride along it. Thanks for this Paul – I shall use it in future.

So, I did 144km by the time I got home, the group had done 90km, and Andy and Adam about 140km as they left us at Hertford North to get some miles in cycling back into London.