rockyroller
Guru
- Location
- 20 miles northwest of Boston, MA
it was a gloomy day but I got out for a ride anyway
Your ride today....
- Thread starter gbb
- Start date
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DCLane
Found in the Yorkshire hills ...
- Location
- Dewsbury, West Yorkshire
Into Dewsbury for lunch and back. The crazy drivers were out today and after two very near misses - a 21-plate Puma driver didn't stop at a blind junction when they pulled out, then a reversing taxi swung left and out without indicating (a slap on their side window where I was stopped them) meant after lunch it was an off-road route back along greenways.
Thank you. It's not the road I was thinking of, but looks lovely and will have a go at it when I'm fitter. There are some amazing routes round there.
GuyBoden
Guru
- Location
- Warrington
10 loops around a steep Cheshire hill to fine tune my new rear derailleur. Yes, it wasn't very exciting, but the top of the hill is nice.
RoubaixCube
~Tribanese~
- Location
- London, UK
Not sure if i spotted a fellow CC member down the A40 near Holborn today. I was behind you around Chancery Lane before we parted ways. I think you took a right down Southampton Row.
You were on a white or grey looking Giant. Google tells me its an TCR Advance Disc - but i cant be too sure. All i know is the rider was in a super low aero riding position which ive only seen from one or two fellow Fridays or CC members. (could have been nicksaddlesore or someone else -- I dont think it was Nick as i dont think he rides a bike like a TCR!)
-- If that was you, Hello to you!
You were on a white or grey looking Giant. Google tells me its an TCR Advance Disc - but i cant be too sure. All i know is the rider was in a super low aero riding position which ive only seen from one or two fellow Fridays or CC members. (could have been nicksaddlesore or someone else -- I dont think it was Nick as i dont think he rides a bike like a TCR!)
-- If that was you, Hello to you!
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ianbarton
Veteran
Is this hill above Bickerton?
cwskas
Über Member
- Location
- Central Texas
I got a windy but hot ride in yesterday afternoon with a friend who is still trying to get his strength back a year after having a tough case of COVID. Great ride despite the conditions.
Wind was from the SSW at 22 gusting to 26+ according to the forecast. On one portion I had more of a crosswind and it would occasionally blow me around in the lane.
It is not even Easter yet and today we had our 2nd day over 90 F. My gadget said 95 degrees.
I am not ready for that yet!
Out some familiar and scenic state roads and back. Just under 38 miles, 1,460 ft ascent, 12 mph avg, 40.8 mph max.
I managed to get a few pictures.
Willie
Wind was from the SSW at 22 gusting to 26+ according to the forecast. On one portion I had more of a crosswind and it would occasionally blow me around in the lane.
It is not even Easter yet and today we had our 2nd day over 90 F. My gadget said 95 degrees.
I am not ready for that yet!Out some familiar and scenic state roads and back. Just under 38 miles, 1,460 ft ascent, 12 mph avg, 40.8 mph max.
I managed to get a few pictures.
Willie
I am often amused by the names on the gates
After a long, but fairly shallow downhill.
Fill 'er up!
I asked them to pose for me!
Almost home, but couldn't pass up these last few views.
After a long, but fairly shallow downhill.
Fill 'er up!
I asked them to pose for me!
Almost home, but couldn't pass up these last few views.
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GuyBoden
Guru
- Location
- Warrington
Sorry, no, it's Hill Cliffe.
GuyBoden
Guru
- Location
- Warrington
Ride to Acton swing bridge and a five loops up/down the nearby steep hill to test my new gears.
GuyBoden
Guru
- Location
- Warrington
I don't know, but I've never seen it swing open. The river Weaver's days of having large commercial vessels navigating it's length are long gone.
footloose crow
Veteran
- Location
- Cornwall. UK
7 April. The coastal roller coaster
When I was working and thinking about retirement, puffing up 20% gradients on a cold morning wasn't part of the vision. It was more about firesides and slippers. But here I am; definitely retired and trying to keep the other OAPs in sight as their blinking rear lights fade away into the distance.
There is blue sky which is good but it isn't warm and the wind is from the north and gusting to 45mph according to the weather forecast. I have no reason to disbelieve it. There is an invisible hand on my chest pushing me back down the hill or catching me out with a sideways shove when I pass a field gateway. I am riding with the Wednesday/Thursday/ Friday club - or WTF - which isn't a club and doesn't always ride on those days. All retired. All obscenely fit. All in front of me.
High tide at Ruan Lanihorne and talking of inconsequential things...
This is a hilly ride almost straight away and after the flat road through riverside Tresillian, launches itself uphill onto the Roseland peninsula, a gnarled hand of bony fingers reaching into the sea, steep drops into quiet, empty valleys and equally steep climbs back out again. By following the coast we encounter every valley and every headland.
We ride through farmyards spread either side of the lane, mud sliding down the mudguards. Thats what they are for! We continue through old oak woodlands which hang over the lane, blocking the light, the road pitted from winter rain and frost, the surface ripped to reveal the rock and gravel beneath. This is Lord Falmouth's land or sometimes it belongs to the Duchy of Cornwall. Here it is still feudal and the footpaths are few and far between. Be careful trespasser, you are tolerated on this lanes and no more.
Tractors pass, a rattle from the trailer and a gust of exhaust. Busy time for farmers right now with seeds to get in and fields ploughed and harrowed. The tractor drivers have no time for a bunch of cyclists and are impatient to pass. We stop as soon as we can to let them go by.
Onto the coast now, a fractal mirror of blues and greens. The surface is ruffled by the wind into steep grey waves further out but nearer the land it is protected, almost alluring. We stop at Portholland for a break and admire the cliffs, dark and gaunt against the bright light. Another stop briefly in Portloe, the crabber boats pulled onto the beach, the village empty of life. We talk about people we have known and things that happened many years before as older people do, resting on the cross bar, clothes tugged by the constant wind.
Portholland. "Yes there are more hills, what did you expect....?"
Up. Down. Up again. Down again. A procession of lung busting uphills, the Wahoo insisting that the gradient is beyond 20% but I think it is exaggerating, and then heart in mouth, swooping descents daring each other to go faster, to bank the bike even more until one of us locks up the back wheel on a hairpin and almost slides into an oncoming car. Time to calm down.
We debate a coffee stop at Porthluney beach near Caerhays but I don't fancy the next climb after a bladder of coffee and a stomach full of cake and so up again and inland to the Lost Gardens of Heligan cafe, busy again after the winter sleep, and the largest slice of coffee cake I have ever seen. There is some debate now about the best way home and the term 'flatter' is mentioned several times, largely by me.
It isn't flat. More lanes, more sweeping views across the spring fields to the china clay works that dominate the horizon of everywhere in mid Cornwall. Tall waste tips of china clay residue, the white scars of rain erosion showing through the scrubby vegetation like bones breaking through flesh. Sometimes all I see is the wheel in front until I think I could draw from memory every nuance and detail of its derailleur and seat stays, the winking red light beneath the saddle. Sometimes I look at the view, the scattered houses and farms, the changing landscape of farming here.
The wind has increased now and is a physical force on the hill tops, dropping away though as we duck beneath the tall Cornish hedges, solid granite and daffodils, wild garlic and white frothed hawthorn. This is a longer ride than I expected and with more uphill although all of our devices disagree on the exact height and distance, as does RWGPS, Wahoo and Strava on the data from my device. I know how my legs feel. It is good to be back in Truro, leaning on our bikes talking of inconsequential things and places we may go and a ride on Sunday if anyone wants it, the weather promised to be better.
I do like riding alone and to be with my own thoughts but I also increasingly like riding in company and the support of a friendly wheel. I enjoy the banter and appreciate the advice. This was a good ride through the best (or worst) of rural and coastal south Cornwall. It makes me feel content and that is what I wanted from retirement. The fireside and slippers can wait for another year.
When I was working and thinking about retirement, puffing up 20% gradients on a cold morning wasn't part of the vision. It was more about firesides and slippers. But here I am; definitely retired and trying to keep the other OAPs in sight as their blinking rear lights fade away into the distance.
There is blue sky which is good but it isn't warm and the wind is from the north and gusting to 45mph according to the weather forecast. I have no reason to disbelieve it. There is an invisible hand on my chest pushing me back down the hill or catching me out with a sideways shove when I pass a field gateway. I am riding with the Wednesday/Thursday/ Friday club - or WTF - which isn't a club and doesn't always ride on those days. All retired. All obscenely fit. All in front of me.
High tide at Ruan Lanihorne and talking of inconsequential things...
This is a hilly ride almost straight away and after the flat road through riverside Tresillian, launches itself uphill onto the Roseland peninsula, a gnarled hand of bony fingers reaching into the sea, steep drops into quiet, empty valleys and equally steep climbs back out again. By following the coast we encounter every valley and every headland.
We ride through farmyards spread either side of the lane, mud sliding down the mudguards. Thats what they are for! We continue through old oak woodlands which hang over the lane, blocking the light, the road pitted from winter rain and frost, the surface ripped to reveal the rock and gravel beneath. This is Lord Falmouth's land or sometimes it belongs to the Duchy of Cornwall. Here it is still feudal and the footpaths are few and far between. Be careful trespasser, you are tolerated on this lanes and no more.
Tractors pass, a rattle from the trailer and a gust of exhaust. Busy time for farmers right now with seeds to get in and fields ploughed and harrowed. The tractor drivers have no time for a bunch of cyclists and are impatient to pass. We stop as soon as we can to let them go by.
Onto the coast now, a fractal mirror of blues and greens. The surface is ruffled by the wind into steep grey waves further out but nearer the land it is protected, almost alluring. We stop at Portholland for a break and admire the cliffs, dark and gaunt against the bright light. Another stop briefly in Portloe, the crabber boats pulled onto the beach, the village empty of life. We talk about people we have known and things that happened many years before as older people do, resting on the cross bar, clothes tugged by the constant wind.
Portholland. "Yes there are more hills, what did you expect....?"
Up. Down. Up again. Down again. A procession of lung busting uphills, the Wahoo insisting that the gradient is beyond 20% but I think it is exaggerating, and then heart in mouth, swooping descents daring each other to go faster, to bank the bike even more until one of us locks up the back wheel on a hairpin and almost slides into an oncoming car. Time to calm down.
We debate a coffee stop at Porthluney beach near Caerhays but I don't fancy the next climb after a bladder of coffee and a stomach full of cake and so up again and inland to the Lost Gardens of Heligan cafe, busy again after the winter sleep, and the largest slice of coffee cake I have ever seen. There is some debate now about the best way home and the term 'flatter' is mentioned several times, largely by me.
It isn't flat. More lanes, more sweeping views across the spring fields to the china clay works that dominate the horizon of everywhere in mid Cornwall. Tall waste tips of china clay residue, the white scars of rain erosion showing through the scrubby vegetation like bones breaking through flesh. Sometimes all I see is the wheel in front until I think I could draw from memory every nuance and detail of its derailleur and seat stays, the winking red light beneath the saddle. Sometimes I look at the view, the scattered houses and farms, the changing landscape of farming here.
The wind has increased now and is a physical force on the hill tops, dropping away though as we duck beneath the tall Cornish hedges, solid granite and daffodils, wild garlic and white frothed hawthorn. This is a longer ride than I expected and with more uphill although all of our devices disagree on the exact height and distance, as does RWGPS, Wahoo and Strava on the data from my device. I know how my legs feel. It is good to be back in Truro, leaning on our bikes talking of inconsequential things and places we may go and a ride on Sunday if anyone wants it, the weather promised to be better.
I do like riding alone and to be with my own thoughts but I also increasingly like riding in company and the support of a friendly wheel. I enjoy the banter and appreciate the advice. This was a good ride through the best (or worst) of rural and coastal south Cornwall. It makes me feel content and that is what I wanted from retirement. The fireside and slippers can wait for another year.
derrick
The Glue that binds us together.
- Location
- On the edge of London
Nice windy ride to Whitwell, Emalis 's tea rooms. We did have the occasional tail wind, Lovely ride really enjoyed it.
https://www.strava.com/activities/6944493060#kudos
https://www.strava.com/activities/6944493060#kudos
Had a ride last Tuesday, the excuse for only doing ten miles was the after effects of a cold. This morning, from somewhere, I decided ‘no excuses.’ Then looked out of the window at the falling rain, picked up my rain jacket and made ready to ride.
There was a bit more than clothing to sort out, breakfast is an idea I approve of no matter the weather. But eventually I pedalled away on the Spa. The rain had stopped, the wind had not. And the wind was a ride changer, excuse or not. One uphill stretch in the final ten miles of the intended route would have been smack into the wind. So the route was ridden anti clockwise, for a more equitable distribution of gradient. And wind.
A wiggle around Holbeck to start with. Out towards Crown Point, do not cross the bridge or river, ride downstream towards Thwaite’s Mill. Before reaching there the river has been crossed twice, south bank to north and back again. This leaves me between river on my left and the Aire and Calder Navigation on my right. Riding NCN Route 67.
Which was peaceful in the extreme this morning. But back to tarmac and traffic now, after Woodlesford Lock and its wildfowl collection take Pottery Lane towards the A642 and head through Swillington to Garforth. First bits of uphill for the morning, and the wind did not assist much. It rarely does.
Around Garforth’s northern edge, across the railway line, then that enormous roundabout over the M1, and eventually onto the B1217 to Lotherton Gates. I totally ignored the ‘Road Closed’ sign at the end of Lotherton Lane and rode along it anyway. What we once called the gas board have dug a trench along the lane, just by the two houses the trench is more like an archeological excavation. But there is a way around for a bike.
Into Aberford now, and into the surprisingly strong wind too. Lumpy all the way to Barwick in Elmet, through there to Scholes and back to the suburbs. Find the top of South Parkway, and it goes downhill to Wyke Beck. Which I followed all the way to Wetherby Road and the Oakwood Clock. And the rain started, but who cares? Home is about five miles away.
Almost in sight of the end of the street I live on, look at the garthing and realise I will not quite do the thirty miles I intended. So a bit of a long block to ride around, reached the end of my street as 30 ticked up. About fifteen hundred feet going up, still raining, rather weary. But a big grin for the ride, and the hot shower that is very near.
Geography and upanddownery . . .
There was a bit more than clothing to sort out, breakfast is an idea I approve of no matter the weather. But eventually I pedalled away on the Spa. The rain had stopped, the wind had not. And the wind was a ride changer, excuse or not. One uphill stretch in the final ten miles of the intended route would have been smack into the wind. So the route was ridden anti clockwise, for a more equitable distribution of gradient. And wind.
A wiggle around Holbeck to start with. Out towards Crown Point, do not cross the bridge or river, ride downstream towards Thwaite’s Mill. Before reaching there the river has been crossed twice, south bank to north and back again. This leaves me between river on my left and the Aire and Calder Navigation on my right. Riding NCN Route 67.
Which was peaceful in the extreme this morning. But back to tarmac and traffic now, after Woodlesford Lock and its wildfowl collection take Pottery Lane towards the A642 and head through Swillington to Garforth. First bits of uphill for the morning, and the wind did not assist much. It rarely does.
Around Garforth’s northern edge, across the railway line, then that enormous roundabout over the M1, and eventually onto the B1217 to Lotherton Gates. I totally ignored the ‘Road Closed’ sign at the end of Lotherton Lane and rode along it anyway. What we once called the gas board have dug a trench along the lane, just by the two houses the trench is more like an archeological excavation. But there is a way around for a bike.
Into Aberford now, and into the surprisingly strong wind too. Lumpy all the way to Barwick in Elmet, through there to Scholes and back to the suburbs. Find the top of South Parkway, and it goes downhill to Wyke Beck. Which I followed all the way to Wetherby Road and the Oakwood Clock. And the rain started, but who cares? Home is about five miles away.
Almost in sight of the end of the street I live on, look at the garthing and realise I will not quite do the thirty miles I intended. So a bit of a long block to ride around, reached the end of my street as 30 ticked up. About fifteen hundred feet going up, still raining, rather weary. But a big grin for the ride, and the hot shower that is very near.
Geography and upanddownery . . .
