Rode out with ilovebikes this morning, in a Bromley-boys-against-the-rain type affair.
As has become customary, we met up at The Dripping Tap (which was true to its namesake) and after the briefest of waves at last week's pavement pizza, set off for roads unknown.
Targeting green belt, we figured Layhams Road would have less traffic than the B265 so headed out through Coney Hall. Turns out we were spot on... Layhams Road was closed to (maybe only vehicular) traffic.
A mile into the climb, turns out this was a bad assumption. Tree cutting blocked the route entirely, so it was a quick spin back down to suburbia, then loop back out via North Pole Lane. That brought us upstream of the workers, and we enjoyed the rest of the route out to the tatsfield masts in traffic free bliss.
Taking the chance to ride alongside, Andy mentions that there's a good bikeshop in Tunbridge Wells, so as we're heading broadly South, we decide that'll make a nice feature to the day. The rain had subsided to a mere drizzle, and we looped towards the M25 from Titsey Hill with full spirits.
Unfortunately, Surrey have seen fit to resurface the bottom of the hill with what seems to be loose shingle. There are 10mph warnings posted all the way down which meant we descended through the mists with nice warm brakes and fair trepidation.
Passing Limpsfield on the B269, we climbed up through Limpsfield Chart, Crockham Hill, Marlpit Hill (spotting a theme here?) before exiting Edenbridge on (yes) Mill Hill.
From there the B2026 would take us through Cowden and Hartfield, and I distinctly remember seeing a sign to Tunbridge Wells (or was it Tonbridge?) last time I was out that way. It was in a village called Fordingbridge, or Fordcombe, or Fordinghurst, or something suitably East Sussexy to do with Fords.
Swimming through Withyham, we reached Groombridge Hill, resisting the opportunity to swing North back towards home. There were bike shops to see, and already we could safely say we weren't going to get any wetter. Spotting a sign to our destination (floating among the jetsam now washing down from Holmewood Ridge) we dug our oars in and climbed in Royal Tunbridge Wells for some well deserved bike pron.
Amazed that our random selection of roads had delivered us to port safely, I dropped back and let Andy lead us into our mooring. Cue much traffic, and a little swearing at a new mini (our assigned enemies for the day).
The bike shop was indeed lovely, and it was with much sorrow that we realised:
a: we had no means of getting any kit back other than fitting it to bike or wearing it.
b: we both want new bikes, for no good reason.
c: we need to find sponsors pronto.
With our funds depleted by a bottle of Coke from the newsagents, and the threat of more mist, we brought shore leave to a quick close. Whilst the rain continued to pelt all around us, Andy expertly navigated the currents, and put us back on the road to Groombridge. Tonbridge Wells seems nice, but very hilly, and quite damp.
Having climbed back up to The Ridge, we caught sign of a roadside marker to the (now) mythical Fordcombe. Recalling that aiming at Fordcombe > Penshurst > Leigh > Chiddingstone Causeway > Four Elms > Toys Hill > Brasted > Pratts Bottom would lead us back to home (although potentially not in that order) we swung right into unknown territory glad of a chance to cut a corner and avoid retracing Groombridge Hill.
From here, the route got somewhat more random. I spent much of the next two hours chasing up hills hoping to find 'Chequers' which I had rather forgotten was at Bough Beech, and not particularly on our way. I must also take responsibility for swinging right into Leigh when we were about a kilometre from Chiddinstone Causeway, thus triggering a huge detour which finally brought us (via Chequers!) out to Four Elms from an entirely unexpected direction. Whilst the gods continued to plague us with rain and poorly driven new Minis, we fought back bravely by taking the wrong road and climbing up Crockham Hill for absolutely no reason. I'm not sure where we went wrong. It was probably a combination of our arriving at a different side of the crossroads, or my utterly ignoring Andy when he correctly pointed out a sign to Toys Hill that my sub-psyche just didn't fancy. Everyone knows, Toys Hill approached correctly is not a turning. The road bails out to the right, and the determined cyclist continues onward, shedding traffic, sweat, and smiles.
Still, not all bad. Crockham Hill puts us on the B269 just outside of the morning's route through Limpsfield. We're 10 miles from home.
...But Andy is on the 50T, and hasn't been off it all day. Now... what kind of host gives a ride in Kent without insisting on at least the middle ring? And is it my fault if Andy has a double?
So... nothing else for it. Back over Crockham Hill, back through Pootings (seriously, that was the best name they could choose?) back to Four Elms, exit on the correct turning (B2042), watch the road swing right, get in the granny gear, and listen for the gristle breaking free from Andy's knees.
Nope... The little sod flies up unimpeded, whilst I do an emergency dismount into a ditch. Less than great, and extremely wet. Still, back in the seat, keep the feet *out* of the front wheel, and pull of the gnarliest hill start of my life.
We reconvene at the top where Andy has very graciously waited for me, trade stories of the ascent, and pour ourselves down through Brasted Chart. Not a great descent. Fairly wet though.
From Brasted, there's only one *real* hill left, and that's on Rectory Lane. Flirting coyly with the gradient as we climbed back across the M25, she soon proved herself a harsh mistress. Gear inches were in their mid 60s for me whilst Andy bravely clambered up on the double.
The view from the top was, well, more mist really, but made all the better for it not including any more up hills.
Opting against the security and comfort of Cudham Lane, we chose to ride down Burlings Lane back to Pratts Bottom. From the evidence supplied, I would guess Burlings Lane is the name of a river rather than a road. We pushed the limits of chemistry and physics to get wetter now than we'd been in almost 6 hours of rain. Port Hill and Rushmore Hill were nailed, and with much relief we rolled onto the A21 just West of Green Street Green.
Seizing his chance to get dry, Andy swung off towards home (Orpington) whilst I relished the joy of roads well travelled, along the A21 back to Hayes.
Andy'll be along shortly to post telemetry. At a guess, I'd say we did just over 100km, and should probably have it measured in nautical miles. I've never, ever, been so frickin wet.
on a Bianchi. I caught up with him at some TLs, wondering if he was really fast....but kept up with him comfortably as 'we' upped the pace a bit.
and managed to get my ankle trapped between the left crank and frame (I had no idea my ankle was so narrow 
) managed to draw blood but other than being a little sore it seems to be ok and it never swelled up on the club run. I went out with the 9:40 ride, which was a big group today and when we splitted a 1/4 way out gavintc went with the second group (good on ye gavintc), mindful of my ankle I went out with the third. Just chillin a little before I head on my other bike to my parents for tea (16.5mile).
but they let me off. by the time I realised it "should be somewhere soon", i was way past it. Had the garmin on non-map mode and it didn't alert me to it, bloody thing.
