CTC Cambridge

Thursday, 16 June 2022 

Greg writes: That's not my writing: it's Julian of Norwich.

I thought of this as we rode out of Shelford and were passed by a 'something' going the other way. On a bright orange Brompton we saw an apparition, also covered entirely in orange, with flowing gown and bright hair. Both Rachel and I wondered quizzically what we had just seen and whether it was a he or a she. Rachel was most impressed by the concept of bikes to match outfits. That could put some of us in serious trouble on the home front (or rather the garage front) were it ever to catch on...

Anyway, unable to identify much about the said rider under the flowing garb I took to musing on identity politics etc. Who we are, what we look like and where we come from. Clearly I was having a philosophical moment as we rolled along towards Whittlesford. Since I had just been lambasted by Phil for the fact that my team, Norwich, were now in a lower league than his beloved Newcastle I was reflecting on how else to support Norwich's status. My mind went to the opening quote since it perfectly captured the mood of our motley group – including those mentioned above we also had Avril, Sharon, Ian, Simon, Mia and, as ever, Adrian bringing up the rear.

For indeed all was well – the sun was shining but through some high hazy cloud and so moderating the early heat whilst there was not a breath of wind. We glided serenely through Whittlesford and Duxford and on over the river at Hinxton. A very glorious day to be out on a bike.

Regrouping after crossing the 505

Mia obviously realised that the mission for all involved was to gain an early blog mention so she stopped in Ickleton and declare a 'rubbing emergency'. The mind may have boggled but a rather judicious yank on her rear (no the sentence isn't ending there – read on all ye of filthy minds!) err, her rear mudguard fixed things.

We set off once again up the well-beloved Coploe Hill.

At the top we paused as is our club wont, nominally to consider the view but in reality to catch our breath and have a drink.

As we were stopped for a couple of minutes Mick Cousins then rode up and joined us.

Now it was the frequently-used route through Catmere End and thence the long downhill of Chestnut Ave which was shady and cool. Sharon insisted on a variety of sunny and shady rides to keep us all cool. I did my best….

At the end of Chestnut Ave we made the somewhat difficult manoeuvre in which we make a left turn onto the B road followed soon after by a right-turn off it towards Audley End House. This has been much improved for us all by the building of a very welcome short section of cycle path. We were happy to use this and gave due thanks to Essex County Council. Cambridgeshire, please note!

A few minutes Saffron Walden, the Curious Goat once again made us supremely welcome. Whilst the early money was on Adrian winning 'best plate' with his maple syrup pancakes, the late entry of Rachel with a humongous slab of passionfruit cake was deemed as worthy winner.

Adrian's Pancakes

Rachel's a winner – Mia takes a sly peek

Mick and Adrian left us at coffee and the remainder headed off up the hill to the castle and then out of town on the Ashdon Road. This was a bit of a long old slog uphill but the lead group slowed to await the laggards (mostly made up of those struggling to digest brownies, millionaires shortbread and various other generous cake servings they had chosen at coffee).

Three left us at the Radwinter turn: Phil, Rachel and Mike CC, who opted for a route back home via Linton. The rest of us, now down to 6, carried on. We had a section of rolling hills, shaded and sunny roads (Sharon was duly grateful) and as we continued more and more thatch, pretty churches and general Suffolk loveliness. Buzzards circled around and at one stage we even had a pair of kestrels who took off together from a telegraph pole as we passed.

Soon enough the birds in the sky were linked to the village we were passing as we exited Birdbrook and came downhill under the disused rail line to emerge on the main road at the bottom. This last 250m is always the worst bit of a trip to Tarka's but, remarkably, we had found the one Mercedes driver in the UK who doesn't fancy themselves a latter day Mr Hamilton.

So we pulled out onto the road and the approaching Mercedes simply slowed down and stayed behind the group acting as a backstop until we turned off for Tarka's café. A kindly wave was the least I could offer.

Tarka's was busy but we found a table with the crucial brolly. A delightful (shaded) lunch break was enjoyed before we all slapped on some more sun cream and saddled back up.

All the best rides commence after lunch with the ubiquitous uphill section to shock tired legs into either cramp or free running again. Simon, who is 100-mile fit at the moment, sped off up the hill and was clearly in the latter category. The rest of us shambled along in his wake as our legs seemed to take a little longer to warm back up. But they all did and we were now bowling along through delightful villages. The sun was shining and we were all smiling.

Indeed the only real issue was when we stopped because then we started to heat up. Whilst riding along the breeze we generated was pleasantly cooling. However, when stopped, our temperature rose. Sharon had a nifty solution to this which involved pouring water over the buff on her neck. As ride leader I felt this situation could be improved by a more general all-body dampening so I gave her a good squirt from my water bottle. She declared herself delighted, before returning the complement.

Avril declared this a waste of water. She was of course, as usual, quite correct. We continued on and were soon enough at Balsham. It was virtually all downhill to the finish now.

And so it proved, as we sped along through Hildersham, Abington and thence to Sawston.

The ride finished back in Great Shelford after having done some 92 km 57 miles and a fairly lumpy 730m of climbing, though we achieved an average speed of 20 kph 12.6 mph. However, it had been gloriously sunny, at times we shared some jokes and it was a good day out. Indeed, as Julian might have said: All was well.

Greg