Cyclone

Coming hard on the heels of the GYBR last weekend it was time for the biggie: my first century. I have to say I was a little worried about our chances: Mark had struggled with the hills the week before in Yorkshire and those were going to be tiddlers in comparison to what we would face today.

We woke to rain but by the time Mark had got up to Newcastle and I'd sorted out porridge and bacon sarnies, it had mellowed to a fine mizzle. Mark still had to register, and I ended up getting caught in the chaos around Kingston Park, but eventually parked out at Great Park and cycled in to meet him.

We were on the road by 9ish, and eased through the crowds ahead until Mark took a corner too fast. Realising that a crash was inevitable he opted for a soft landing on the verge and hedge. Brushing off the mud, grass and concerns of fellow riders, he caught me as I was taking off my jacket, and was sure he was ok to carry on.



The hills rolled on through Ogle, Whalton, Meldon, villages I'd never heard of, then through Rothbury and Thropton before what we thought was the highest point before Elsdon. We stopped for a celebratory photo at the top.


But it was clear after the descent that Mark was already tiring. He had the look of the hunted about him as he tucked into tea and banana bread (thanks Jo!).


Both refueled, we were off, heading through Otterburn and then the "wrong way" up the A68 - towards Edinburgh. We soon swung south again and through more remote desolate moorland north of Haltwhistle where it soon became apparent that the hill before Elsdon was itself unfortunately a tiddler.


By the time we reached Wark it was my turn to feel like I was running on empty and this late in the day there was only tea and bananas left in the feed station. I had both. Then I went to the village shop and bought a ham and pease pudding sarnie and crisps and chocolate. Then I ate them all. Then it was ok to get moving again.

Shortly after this we caught up with Kev from the Oddsox taking five. He had bad news: we still had to tackle the Ryals, a series of climbs and false summits. He also had good news: after them the route settled to gentle undulations for the last 15 miles down into Newcastle.

The last hour or so was a bit of a blur but we finally rolled over the finish line about 9 1/2 hours after starting.


Jo got the oligatory "I'm finished, it's not dark yet and Mike hasn't killed me" call.


It was at this point I had to tell Mark that the car was parked 2 miles away. It needed an energy gel to get us there.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Cyclone

It was the shandy what done it.

Discretion is the better part of valour and it may be that Simon was wise to stay away on this occasion.  I have a bit of a reputation for harming my friends on bike rides: Dan getting hypothermia on Hartside; starving Chris to the point of delerium in the snow at Chopwell; and most recently taking Simon out for a night ride on a bike he borrowed from me that had lights that shut themselves off every 8 seconds after being turned on (transport mode it turns out).  I would like to point out that its nothing personal: there was, of course, that time I gave myself 2 black eyes in Morzine.

This weekend (and I should point out here that it was entirely Paul's idea) Paul, Jon, Paul D and I cycled from Tynemouth to Corbridge via the pedestrian tunnel and Wylam; and then back via Matfen and the Reiver's Route to Wideopen. A total of 5hrs and 20minutes of cycling covering 62.6 miles. Paul blames the pint he had at lunchtime (mine was fine) but I suspect the unseasonal sunny and warm weather and "the lack of miles in the legs" was to blame.  It wasn't my fault.

Tyne Tunnel Loop

Having failed to make it out of bed in time for either of the Oddsox rides today, I was left feeling a little guilty. My inertia had been partially fueled by the bike situation: the 29er has fast summer tyres not suitable for the Beamish mud, and the stumpy has tyres aplenty and a new 15mm bolt-thru fork but not yet a compatible wheel for this!

I decided to do an old training loop of mine aboard the X-cal, on Sustrans type trails along the north side of the Tyne, through the pedestrian tunnel then back via the Baltic and the Ouseburn Valley. The stats: Distance: 17.6 miles, average speed: 12.1 mph, top speed: 31.1 mph.

The X-cal performed admirably, as good as the one that was stolen and a much nicer colour. It seems very quick and happiest cruising at 17-18mph, all I need now is some semi-slicks for the C&C and some mud tyres too. Not sure how I'm gonna get all this past "the committee" though.

I didn't perform quite as well as the 29er, though. At one point I was overtaken by a man with a cigarette in his mouth, chugging through it like a training aid as he went past me on his £50 Halfords Crapbike (tm). That was too much to take, so I dug deep and went back past him. The training starts now for my big summer of cycling.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Lock in

If Carlsberg made lock-ins....


In a bike shop with 15-25% off everything, with free beer and pizza.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

New wheels

Finally the one call from Wheelies that I was waiting for: the new road bike had arrived. Less than 24 hrs later it was in my hallway getting it's bars straightened and pedals fitted.


It is a black and yellow thing of carbon beauty, weighing in at only 8.7kg (with reflectors and pedals fitted).

Within a further 24 hours she was doing her first commute home. Despite getting slightly lost on a new route variation we still shaved 5 minutes off the time even after we'd stopped to admire the view.

Weekend Warriors

Chris and I were on a roll- this was the third Sunday running we were heading out with the Oddsox. However when I drew back the curtains it was apparent the day was more suited to arks than bikes.

I thought we'd better go since I'd told some of the committee I'd be going and would have my membership money with me. There was only one other rider there planning to head out in the filthy weather.

We had a late start: Chris noticed a puncture as soon as he got his bike down from the roof rack. It took a while to sort out, wet hands, stiff tyres, wrong inner tube, etc. I gave Chris my last inner tube and then were off.

Within 250 meters I felt my end wandering- another frustratingly slow puncture compounded by the thought that we'd just used my last tube. We sent the other rider on, and were very close to calling it a day. But then I found the offending thorn, and rummaging through my bag for puncture repair kit I found another tube. Our luck had changed.


Weekend warriors. We were out for another 2 hours in the end. We got well and truly muddy but didn't get too lost.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Oddsox 2

Second Sunday running with the Oddsox and I met Chris at Beamish this time. I was coming straight off a night shift, and unfortunately even a double helping of "the breakfast of champions" from the golden arches left me feeling like there was no fuel in the tank.

I was well early and as I listened to the radio had time before anyone else arrived to be certain that Andy Murray wasn't going to be the first Brit to win a tennis major for 75 years.

We headed straight down through Beamish Woods, with both Chris and I over the bars before the end of the first descent, and we weren't the only ones. Staying local wasn't on the cards as the shotguns got louder, and yes they were pellets rattling off my helmet as I brought up the rear. So we headed off via Beamish Old Hall towards Tanfield Railway.

Thankfully a few punctures slowed things up at just the right moments for me, but even so, I was starting to cramp after 3 hours as we pulled up again outside The Shepherd and Shepherdess. And yes, it was muddy again. Very muddy.

Beamish Oddsox

I went out the Oddsox today for the first time in just over 2 years.

It was a Wednesday evening in November 2008 when I stumbled in a pothole whilst negotiating a style within 300yds of the start of a Beamish Oddsox nightride. 2 ruptured ligaments, numerous physio appointments, scans, 2 operations and loads more physio later, I was back outside the Shepherd and Shepherdess for a 10am start this morning.



It was muddy, very muddy, but lots of fun: slippy, slidey and tiring - but a good way to start a Sunday. I'd taken Chris P along for the ride and I'm pretty sure he enjoyed it. My reward for introducing him to the Oddsox: a latte with both a bacon and a sausage sarnie. Result.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Singlespeed

Last autumn I heard that my friend Rob had outgrown his courier wannabe stage, was selling his single-speed and had got himself a motorbike. Unfortunately by the time I heard, he'd already listed it on eBay so I decided to surprise him by winning the bid. I know, what do I need another bike for, especially a single-speed with a flip-flop hub? Er... bike polo?

Now 4 months later, I've finally gotten down to London to pick it up. I was expecting it to be more hassle than it was, because we had Jeff dog with us too, but was pleasantly surprised to find this helpful TFL map which showed me I was allowed to take the bike on the tube from Maria's in Southfields with only one change to Kings Cross.




East Coast Mainline was also a breeze: free bike carriage with my ticket and a pre-booked berth for the bike in the guard's compartment. Makes me wanna book a ticket to the highlands with only my mountain bike for company... not really: look at those faces!




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Hamsterley Icerink

Dave and Adele are keener cyclists than me. They'd booked a long weekend in a log cabin a Dalby. In January. After we'd had the worst snow in how long? Maybe they're mad keen... or just mad. Anyhow after half of a 2 hour loop at Dalby took 5 hours to "cycle" through still thigh-deep snow, they thought better of the invite they'd extended to me.

We decided we'd try Hamsterley in the hope they'd had less snowfall and more snowmelt. The crush of cars on the approach road led Dave for a moment to wonder if the trail conditions were utopian. A quick step from the car onto the icerink that was the road, dampened those hopes. The never-ending squeal of tires attempting to spin their way back up the steep bank to the visitors centre proved the wisdom of leaving the cars where they were.

The word from the locals was that other than the main forest road, all other trails were rideable. And they were: we had almost 3 hours of excellent winter riding. This time, I managed to find some of the unmarked locals-only trails and we managed to weave them into a decent route without wet-foot river crossings.

At times we were literally breaking trail, though. A snow-hidden puddle with inch think ice relented to my weight, and at about 10mph, I lost my front wheel into the foot-deep bog beneath. The only over the bar off of the day, though not the only fail. Adele didn't quite pull off her pirouette on the ice of the car park at the end of the ride, and Dave managed to work his way through another set of forks.

Dave and Adele are keener cyclists than me. I know this because I was the only one to taste blood from my lungs on the first climb. Going to have to get in shape for the 200 mile Coast and Castles route in April then.




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone