EltonFrog
Legendary Member
I hate it when people turn up to the same event wearing the same clothes...
FNRttC Friday Night Ride to the Coast - Whitstable 31st May
- Thread starter dellzeqq
- Start date
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I hate it when people turn up to the same event wearing the same clothes...
deptfordmarmoset
Full time tea drinker
- Location
- Armonmy Way
It looks like you'll all be in for a beautiful night tonight. I'm already wishing I'd put my name down for it.
Me to, I've done the canal in day light (a few years ago), but not at night. It should be interesting.
I take it that you're worried that you'll clash with Tim H ?
well, I just nipped downstairs to have a look, and my bike's got no mud on it. So it should be ok. And if it's not, Ian will give it a little polish for you.
Ha! Excellent...
Shiny Bikes please...I expect nothing less....
U
User10571
Guest
I suspect my polish might be better than Ian's.well, I just nipped downstairs to have a look, and my bike's got no mud on it. So it should be ok. And if it's not, Ian will give it a little polish for you.
And I'm giving none of it...
StuAff
Silencing his legs regularly
- Location
- Portsmouth
It was a good ride. 105 miles from HPC to Whitstable and back to Meopham- rather knackered but that's this month's century sorted, opportunities later in the month were looking sparse. Thanks to the SMRbtH crew for bearing with slow old me early on. More to follow later.....
Given my performance on the Hull ride, it was not really a surprise that concern was expressed in some quarters about my ability to do this ride, and that concern was conveyed to me by our Great Leader. On the way to Hull, I had an arthritic attack of a severity that I have not experienced for quite a few years, and certainly not since I have been following this particular drugs régime (methotrexate). Given that in May I passed the 75-mile mark as a daily ride on no fewer than 3 occasions (I can't remember a month in which I last did that), two of them overnight and the other on the tandem towing a Y-frame trailer bearing a suitcase with our wedding clothes in it, I felt that I ought to have no problem.
So it turned out. I have just logged my miles: 77.79 at 10.81 mph. The conditions, of course, were massively favourable. I decided that it was so balmy at Hyde Park Corner that I treated Jane to the sight of me removing my trousers. Shortly afterwards she offered me her cherry, or several of them, baked in an excellent cake.Thereafter came Simon's song-and-dance routine in which 70-something eager cyclists struggled to hear what he was saying against the background of the traffic of Hyde Park Corner, on this particular midnight augmented by a multiplicity of wailing sirens and a police helicopter overhead. Or it might have been a drone.
Then we set off and fair hurtled along the Embankment with the waning moon considerably higher in the sky than last week's enormous full moon had been. The Blackfriars underpass was closed so we had a small sojourn under the City of London School, pootled in the vicinity of the Monument and then crossed the river. Gradually, but perceptibly, the traffic thinned and the occasional conversation was possible. We passed through some of the dark and dangerous bits of SE London, the area from which my maternal grandmother originated, but she wouldn't have been out and about around midnight in her youth in the 1880s for fear of meeting Jack the Ripper, a character who preyed greatly on her feeble mind when she was in her dotage and I was a fresh and impressionable small boy. Eventually we emerged into Greenwich, which has an air of decayed civilisation about it, and from that point we were headed or the country.
We escaped the metropolis quickly, using a fair number of roads that would have been alarming, at the very least, during the hours of daylight. They were close to empty, although the drivers of a couple of heavy lorries hung back at junctions and roundabout to let us all pass, and such rare courtesy was gratefully received. My potential bail-out point, the Dartford crossing followed a 25-mile ride home, came and went, and then we made for Greenwich, still using empty roads of smooth tarmac upon which it was possible to bowl along at a fair rate. It struck me that we were approaching the middle third of the ride and I hadn't yet introduced myself to the tail-end charlies, fine men and women with whom I spent about 60% of the Hull ride.
After Gravesend we were in for a real treat, a canal-side pootle on a path which, on another day, User10571 told me that he had introduced to two of our good friends from YACF, Nutkin and Notsototalnewbie, who had objected in terms to the lack of surface. It is true that occasionally a small pebble pinged out from under one or other of my tyres, but I heard no tales of fellow riders being blinded. What I did hear, though, were frogs. Lots of noisy frogs of a type with which I was unfamiliar, or at least, unfamiliar in this country. Their sound bore a remarkable resemblance to frogs we had heard in Denmark and the Netherlands and a google on my return home suggested that there are marsh frogs in the vicinity of Gravesend on the Medway Canal. They were splendid.
We also heard reed warblers. This was all still well before dawn, but these little fellows were rasping away unseen, concealed within the reedbeds, a lovely sound and doubtless an open invitation to the cuckoos. A little later, as we passed through thorn thicket, the most entrancing sound of the summer, that of luscinia megarhynchos, stuttered into life. Tentatively at first, like a professional contralto doing her warm-up exercises, the clucks,whirrs and whistles began to tumble and cascade over one another until our (male) prima donna gave us a few seconds' full-throated ease before we had to set off again as the leading group were well out of sight. Simon was in fact coming back to look for us just at the point that we noticed an owl of unknown variety swoop within the arc of our lights and head torches, but it was a moment to treasure as nightingales are summer visitors to these shores and not many of them bother to cross the channel. They are common as anything on the continent, and indeed Mrs. Wow and myself were treated to a whole male voice choir of them only three weeks ago as we cycled through the dunes between the Hook of Holland and The Hague. Now there were clear signs of dawn as we approached our refreshment stop and for good measure a couple of skylarks treated us to their particular aerial recital.
Soon after 4.30 we emerged from our early breakfast of ham rolls, cheese rolls, cake and tea to half-light. Dawn was still a few minutes away as we trundled through Lower Rainham and onto the tiny lanes which make this ride such a treat. Then we did hear a cuckoo, quite bold and to our left, down towards the Medway somewhere. The hills on this ride are not particularly challenging, certainly not compared to the Rollrights ride that Kim organised in Warks & Oxon last week, but probably the toughest is the climb from Lower Halstow. It was here that I found myself at the back of the ride and TimO and I were discussing whether that particular hill had a chevron. Tim was right, it doesn't, but it can't be all that far off achieving that status.
A couple of times, as my presence precipitated the back-markers' cry of "all up" I was able to leapfrog the main group and find myself up with the leaders again, a rare privilege, but the great thing was that I was riding faster than I normally do and that gave me the opportunity to rest my wrists and hands when I arrived at the regrouping a few minutes before some of the others. On the Hull ride I was totally preoccupied with the problem of pain so on the rare occasions that I could freewheel, rather than change into a higher gear and try to push my average speed up a bit, I would give myself the opportunity to take first one hand, then the other, from the bars for a few moments' relief.
As I approached the first of the beach huts and prefabs which constitute Seasalter, I had a nice surprise as Jane had waited for me, and we rode in together, amongst the last to arrive at the café and pretty much the last to be fed. We admired Southend in the best way possible (from afar, although it was sunnier than Whitstable) and after some good conversation and an amusing interlude in which Simon consumed ale and sticky toffee pudding then promptly fell asleep, Jane and I threaded our way through some rather good cycle paths to the station, where the ridiculousness of the railways was yet again revealed as her single to Bromley South cost 35p more than the return to Victoria that I inadvertently purchased.
I found myself circumnavigating Parliament Square and the Embankment almost exactly 12 hours after I had done last night and was in plenty of time for the 12.35 train from Liverpool Street to Southend, upon which I intermittently snoozed.
So it turned out. I have just logged my miles: 77.79 at 10.81 mph. The conditions, of course, were massively favourable. I decided that it was so balmy at Hyde Park Corner that I treated Jane to the sight of me removing my trousers. Shortly afterwards she offered me her cherry, or several of them, baked in an excellent cake.Thereafter came Simon's song-and-dance routine in which 70-something eager cyclists struggled to hear what he was saying against the background of the traffic of Hyde Park Corner, on this particular midnight augmented by a multiplicity of wailing sirens and a police helicopter overhead. Or it might have been a drone.
Then we set off and fair hurtled along the Embankment with the waning moon considerably higher in the sky than last week's enormous full moon had been. The Blackfriars underpass was closed so we had a small sojourn under the City of London School, pootled in the vicinity of the Monument and then crossed the river. Gradually, but perceptibly, the traffic thinned and the occasional conversation was possible. We passed through some of the dark and dangerous bits of SE London, the area from which my maternal grandmother originated, but she wouldn't have been out and about around midnight in her youth in the 1880s for fear of meeting Jack the Ripper, a character who preyed greatly on her feeble mind when she was in her dotage and I was a fresh and impressionable small boy. Eventually we emerged into Greenwich, which has an air of decayed civilisation about it, and from that point we were headed or the country.
We escaped the metropolis quickly, using a fair number of roads that would have been alarming, at the very least, during the hours of daylight. They were close to empty, although the drivers of a couple of heavy lorries hung back at junctions and roundabout to let us all pass, and such rare courtesy was gratefully received. My potential bail-out point, the Dartford crossing followed a 25-mile ride home, came and went, and then we made for Greenwich, still using empty roads of smooth tarmac upon which it was possible to bowl along at a fair rate. It struck me that we were approaching the middle third of the ride and I hadn't yet introduced myself to the tail-end charlies, fine men and women with whom I spent about 60% of the Hull ride.
After Gravesend we were in for a real treat, a canal-side pootle on a path which, on another day, User10571 told me that he had introduced to two of our good friends from YACF, Nutkin and Notsototalnewbie, who had objected in terms to the lack of surface. It is true that occasionally a small pebble pinged out from under one or other of my tyres, but I heard no tales of fellow riders being blinded. What I did hear, though, were frogs. Lots of noisy frogs of a type with which I was unfamiliar, or at least, unfamiliar in this country. Their sound bore a remarkable resemblance to frogs we had heard in Denmark and the Netherlands and a google on my return home suggested that there are marsh frogs in the vicinity of Gravesend on the Medway Canal. They were splendid.
We also heard reed warblers. This was all still well before dawn, but these little fellows were rasping away unseen, concealed within the reedbeds, a lovely sound and doubtless an open invitation to the cuckoos. A little later, as we passed through thorn thicket, the most entrancing sound of the summer, that of luscinia megarhynchos, stuttered into life. Tentatively at first, like a professional contralto doing her warm-up exercises, the clucks,whirrs and whistles began to tumble and cascade over one another until our (male) prima donna gave us a few seconds' full-throated ease before we had to set off again as the leading group were well out of sight. Simon was in fact coming back to look for us just at the point that we noticed an owl of unknown variety swoop within the arc of our lights and head torches, but it was a moment to treasure as nightingales are summer visitors to these shores and not many of them bother to cross the channel. They are common as anything on the continent, and indeed Mrs. Wow and myself were treated to a whole male voice choir of them only three weeks ago as we cycled through the dunes between the Hook of Holland and The Hague. Now there were clear signs of dawn as we approached our refreshment stop and for good measure a couple of skylarks treated us to their particular aerial recital.
Soon after 4.30 we emerged from our early breakfast of ham rolls, cheese rolls, cake and tea to half-light. Dawn was still a few minutes away as we trundled through Lower Rainham and onto the tiny lanes which make this ride such a treat. Then we did hear a cuckoo, quite bold and to our left, down towards the Medway somewhere. The hills on this ride are not particularly challenging, certainly not compared to the Rollrights ride that Kim organised in Warks & Oxon last week, but probably the toughest is the climb from Lower Halstow. It was here that I found myself at the back of the ride and TimO and I were discussing whether that particular hill had a chevron. Tim was right, it doesn't, but it can't be all that far off achieving that status.
A couple of times, as my presence precipitated the back-markers' cry of "all up" I was able to leapfrog the main group and find myself up with the leaders again, a rare privilege, but the great thing was that I was riding faster than I normally do and that gave me the opportunity to rest my wrists and hands when I arrived at the regrouping a few minutes before some of the others. On the Hull ride I was totally preoccupied with the problem of pain so on the rare occasions that I could freewheel, rather than change into a higher gear and try to push my average speed up a bit, I would give myself the opportunity to take first one hand, then the other, from the bars for a few moments' relief.
As I approached the first of the beach huts and prefabs which constitute Seasalter, I had a nice surprise as Jane had waited for me, and we rode in together, amongst the last to arrive at the café and pretty much the last to be fed. We admired Southend in the best way possible (from afar, although it was sunnier than Whitstable) and after some good conversation and an amusing interlude in which Simon consumed ale and sticky toffee pudding then promptly fell asleep, Jane and I threaded our way through some rather good cycle paths to the station, where the ridiculousness of the railways was yet again revealed as her single to Bromley South cost 35p more than the return to Victoria that I inadvertently purchased.
I found myself circumnavigating Parliament Square and the Embankment almost exactly 12 hours after I had done last night and was in plenty of time for the 12.35 train from Liverpool Street to Southend, upon which I intermittently snoozed.
kimble
Veteran
Ah, it was an Iridium flare then? Thought so...
Whitstable's my favourite FNRttC, and this one was a particularly fine example of the species, not least because of the novelty value of a night ride without winter clothing.
Having had train shenanigans on the way back (Andrew and I arrived at Canterbury West after a lovely pootle up the Crab & Winkle to discover the 14:25 HS1 service was cancelled, and alarming talk of replacement buses), I'm now thoroughly exhausted. I'm in danger of falling asl
Whitstable's my favourite FNRttC, and this one was a particularly fine example of the species, not least because of the novelty value of a night ride without winter clothing.
Having had train shenanigans on the way back (Andrew and I arrived at Canterbury West after a lovely pootle up the Crab & Winkle to discover the 14:25 HS1 service was cancelled, and alarming talk of replacement buses), I'm now thoroughly exhausted. I'm in danger of falling asl
Another splendid fnrttc, my creative writing skills are not up to a poetic and epic write up that could justify the enjoyment of last night. I smiled LOTS over the course of the ride and chuckled and whooped occasionally (mostly to myself), such was my enjoyment. All thanks to the vital ingredients of excellent weather, route, company but most of all the tireless efforts of the way markers, TEC's, mechanics and of course Simon.
Thank you
PS Loving the new and still shiny and now dusted bike. :-) It really liked those last 6 miles.
Thank you
PS Loving the new and still shiny and now dusted bike. :-) It really liked those last 6 miles.
Damn, didn't see the Iridium flare. I saw one once on a campsite in Cornwall. I told the woman next to me it was the end of the world and we had 30 seconds. She nearly believed me.
That was a lovely ride. I think the tail wind helped. Lots of new faces I thought, which is all good. Note to anyone with Tranz-X (or similar) skewers - bring the requisite gadget to remove the wheel, thus saving me having to make pleas for five sided allen keys. It all came good in the end. Breakfast and beer was excellent, nattering with John B, meeting CarlP and was only slightly delayed by Long Martin's tyre, which "just blew up".
I'm pleased to note we managed another act of civil disobedience, similar to that achieved en route to Burnham. Two, count 'em, two magicians were in evidence.
A few photos will follow shortly.
Dogtrousers
Kilometre nibbler
EltonFrog
Legendary Member
Two magicians? Who?
BigGee
Senior Member
- Location
- North East London
Listening to the discussions over the years you realise that Whitstable is a lot of peoples favourite ride. I had never quite got that , largely because the three previous times I have done it, the weather has been awful, culminating with last Octobers legendary soaking. However after last night I can truly say that I have got it, what a fantastic ride it was. Kent is a beautiful county and we saw it as its best last night.
What a difference the weather makes though, never below 10 degrees, not a drop of rain. This is what night riding in the summer should be like but they have been in short supply over the past year. I don't actually mind riding in the cold, just not all the time and especially not when it is meant to be warmer. I realised when getting dressed for this ride that I think it was only the second time this year that I have worn a pair of shorts! Long may it continue!
This ride had all kinds of great stuff. Space stations whizzing past, croaking bull frogs, a stretch of strade bianche, a couple of challenging hills, bithdays and a merciful lack of any major mechanicals to slow us down. The TECS even overcame the challenge of finding a 5 sided allen key to change a wobbly front wheel while the rest of us were stuffing our faces with the delicious fare served up at the tea stop. Thanks once again to all those who got up in the middle of the night to indulge us.
Our early arrival in Whitstable let me get feed and then back out on the road in decent time for my long haul back home. I retraced our steps back through Faversham and Sittingbourne before heading on the more direct route down the old roman road through the medway towns and back down to Gravesend. I was flagging a bit by then and needed an emergency bag of chips to revive me.
Then it was across the Thames on the ferry to Tilbury and a long slog back up to Brentwood directly into the northerly wind, which seemed to be getting stronger as I was getting weaker and then finally the last few miles over to Woodford Green. I just about had enough gears to get over the last couple of hills and I made it home by 14.20. 80 miles out and 66 back for a 146 total, a years best but probably slightly under what I did on the same ride last year when I got lost on the way back. That was one of the cold wet rides causing my cateye to pack up so I never did find out what I did that time!
As usual thanks to Simon for a fantastic ride and everyone else for great company. Have a great time in Normandy and I look forward to catching up in Wales in July.
What a difference the weather makes though, never below 10 degrees, not a drop of rain. This is what night riding in the summer should be like but they have been in short supply over the past year. I don't actually mind riding in the cold, just not all the time and especially not when it is meant to be warmer. I realised when getting dressed for this ride that I think it was only the second time this year that I have worn a pair of shorts! Long may it continue!
This ride had all kinds of great stuff. Space stations whizzing past, croaking bull frogs, a stretch of strade bianche, a couple of challenging hills, bithdays and a merciful lack of any major mechanicals to slow us down. The TECS even overcame the challenge of finding a 5 sided allen key to change a wobbly front wheel while the rest of us were stuffing our faces with the delicious fare served up at the tea stop. Thanks once again to all those who got up in the middle of the night to indulge us.
Our early arrival in Whitstable let me get feed and then back out on the road in decent time for my long haul back home. I retraced our steps back through Faversham and Sittingbourne before heading on the more direct route down the old roman road through the medway towns and back down to Gravesend. I was flagging a bit by then and needed an emergency bag of chips to revive me.
Then it was across the Thames on the ferry to Tilbury and a long slog back up to Brentwood directly into the northerly wind, which seemed to be getting stronger as I was getting weaker and then finally the last few miles over to Woodford Green. I just about had enough gears to get over the last couple of hills and I made it home by 14.20. 80 miles out and 66 back for a 146 total, a years best but probably slightly under what I did on the same ride last year when I got lost on the way back. That was one of the cold wet rides causing my cateye to pack up so I never did find out what I did that time!
As usual thanks to Simon for a fantastic ride and everyone else for great company. Have a great time in Normandy and I look forward to catching up in Wales in July.
TimD, our master of ceremonies at Stock was one. Member of the Magic Circle and everything. He can make a table full of rolls and cakes vanish in minutes few (although he needs the help of 80 hungry cyclists for that trick). The other will pop up when I've put my photos on line.
