Thursday, 07 March 2024
So it began again, much like the previous one had left off, in chaos, notes Greg.Yes, our last village ride was three weeks ago, when Greg had led the troops gloriously into battle.. We had five punctures and other mayhem that day: would today be any better?
So, not defeated, Greg agreed to step into the breach once more and lead today's ride because Andy and Sarah had been summonsed for last-minute childminding duties of a sickly grandchild. Rumour has it that Andy found the task much eased by the promise of Sky TV whilst England struggled once again in a Test against India.
(The author adds: I have been reliably informed that, like the villains on Scooby Doo, these heinous plans were thwarted by the pesky plans of others, and he enjoyed a day at Clacton with said Grandchild instead).
Anyway, 9.30am brought the assembled troops to Shelford. With Greg were Ed, Richard, Mick, Nick, Adrian, Ian and a returnee in Jim B.
Greg called everyone to order and cried 'Wagons roll! Follow me'. Everyone duly saddled up and headed off.
After two hundred yards (maybe that should read 194 metres as I believe there is a drive to make CTC Cambridge modern and metric!) Greg made a further announcement. 'Whoops! Wrong way!'
A smart about-face was performed and we returned back past the Square and Compasses some 3 minutes after our departure. This did not bode well. Cries from the back of 'Where's Andy?' were well-merited.
We cycled up through Shelford. In fact that is a lie. "We slalomed through the myriad potholes, road cracks, crevasses and gravel that makes for the remnants of the Shelford road surface" would be a better description of our progress.
Once we had gone down Mingle Lane (seeing how the 'Other Half' live) and got onto the cycle path to Sawston, duly settled down into a rhythm, and made good progress.
That progress was cruelly thwarted when we crossed at Sawston lights and headed out towards Babraham. We had swung from a Southerly heading into an Easterly one and were now lumbering into a building and cutting wind. In fact, so discombobulated did Greg get at the front that he even missed the crossover onto the cycle path at the new houses. This was hard yards we were making. Never mind – only another 23 more miles in this direction! (Note – that metric thing didn't last long).
Onwards ever onwards, eventually pausing at Granta Park to admire progress (!) on the new buildings as we regrouped. Thence Hildersham and the climb to Balsham. We could see the wind turbines making good use of the wind – more than we were!
The first casualty was at The Old Butchers where Mick C dropped off for coffee after the efforts of the long hill. The rest of us continued on.
And on and on. (Much like this blog – Ed)
The route took us into the wilds of Suffolk where creativity is not their strong point. Witness 'Long Lane' which was a bothersome three-plus miles into the wind and which ends in a T junction where we all paused to admire the property opposite us – dated 1614 and named 'Old House'. Yup, creativity at its finest.
'Never mind', said Nick, 'We're nearly at Whitemoor where Moira Hindley met her demise'. Blimey, the conversation was really plumbing new depths of grim – so we set off again.
Adrian realised he hadn't done anything dramatic enough to warrant a blog entry so he swiftly rectified the situation by avoiding the bridge and cycling through the ford at Thurlow. This was brave, nay foolhardy, given the amount of water still flooding off the fields and into the ditches. However, one doesn't mess with Adrian in full flight and he progressed majestically through the ford – gaining an entry here and our admiration (note – second entry later for an even more dramatic, startling and heroic feat!)
Nick now pushed out in front – the lure of his cup of tea being a siren call dragging him onwards ever onwards. The rest of us slotted in behind for the last couple of miles – emerging briefly onto the A143 before then espying salvation (well it wasn't base camp for Scott but it was Café 33 which was nearly as good!)
After negotiating the daftest and most complex ordering system (going outside and round from the café to place the order in the kitchen and then returning by said circuitous route) rather than merely ordering over the serving bar which connects directly with the staff in the aforementioned kitchen. Anyway, Suffolk rules is Suffolk rules and us foreigners should do as bidden, which we duly did!
We entered the café at 11.59am (I know, I looked) so we were running almost exactly 1 hour behind schedule! We presented a somewhat bedraggled group as we awaited our orders. However, faces perked up as the food emerged. Jim had initially panicked that he was the only one ordering something substantial but his fears were soon allayed by seeing sundry delights such as bacon bap (Nick) and scrambled egg on toast (Ed) appearing.
Adrian raised his game once more to an inspiring new level – this time meriting not only a mention here but also a photo! It is well known (well it is now) that HM QE2 only ever ate a banana with a knife and fork. Imagine our collective amazement, nay awe, to see that Adrian was 'Of the blood royal' too. For verily he impresseth us much with his table manners – duly consuming his sausage roll not with commoner fingers but with a knife and fork. We duly abased ourselves before his highness. Adrian munched on amused....unlike his presumed relative, the late lamented Queen Victoria!
After lengthy and considerable discussions and negotiations (actually it was proposed and agreed on immediately) the next leg of the ride to lunch was deemed to have already occurred. Café 33 now being considered the lunch stop we decided to follow Ed's sage suggestion of a route back. The main lure being his considerable sales talents 'Well it includes a 3 mile downhill section with a following wind'. Jim declared 'Sold' and the rest of us agreed!
So, the route now took us back through Cowlinge where Adrian (regally) departed the group then we went onto Six Mile Bottom. Crucially lunch was at the high point of the ride – both in terms of elevation and also up to windward so now we had the joy of downhill and downwind. Ah, bliss.
We fair flew back from whence we came – all too soon being berated by Ed over 'Make your minds up you lot' – flat Queen Edith's or over the Gogs). We decided that downhill had gone on for long enough and went over the Gogs. The group now split up. Nick had left after lunch, Ian pushed on ahead from here whilst Jim dived off through the Park and Ride.
The last stragglers made it back to Shelford's warm and welcoming bosom (err gravel strewn tracks more like) at a reasonably early time. As we separated we wished Ed many happy returns for Tuesday. This ride of many parts had three leaders – Andy on the website, me in the morning and Ed doing a Gary Lineker style last-minute claiming of the glory for the last 6 yards (well 20 miles) which followed a rather enjoyable and scenic route back home.
However we patched things together it was circa 72 km 45 miles out in the fresh air enjoying good company, spring daffodils and fair winds (did I mention the wind?) Greg