With Royal Approval

Next week our noble Queen celebrates 60 years of reign and all across the United Kingdom and Commonwealth communities will be joining together in combined celebration. Already houses are  being festooned with bunting and union jacks, leaving bright spring blooms pushed aside by red, white, and blue fabric.

People are noticeably more courteous and smiling at one another. Discussions centre on 'The Event' rather than the weather or at the very least the weather that might be expected at 'The Event'.

Most people will celebrate in some appropriate way with friends and family, assembled together in street or  garden parties. Needless to say there will be plenty of baking and the over use of cucumbers in crustless sandwiches. Toasts will be made to Queen and Country and some national pride may filter into our lives

Sadly there will also be many who have no interest in the Queen or tradition. For them the two extra days holiday will merely be seen as an additional opportunity for disgrace.
After years of evolution they have been able to extend the capacity of their leg movements to walk to  supermarkets, although lifting their knuckles from the ground still remains a challenge.

Once at their chosen destination and with the use of  monosyllabic posturings they have sadly discovered the booze aisle, where they unashamedly spend their child benefit money.
On their return their gait becomes more of a strut.
A well oiled movement, bare chested, with boxes of canned 'wife beater' gripped loosely under their tattooed arms.
Sometimes they stop to lighten their load through consumption or spillage, drinking themselves more stupid than they already are.
As darkness descends so do their inhibitions as they randomly abuse each other or anyone within their blurred sight.

When HRH first came to the throne we were a country under threat from rumblings in Europe.

An  island of seafarers, proud, stubborn and resolute, we united together to fight and halt the dreams of the mustachioed fascist from Germany.

Now a number of generations on, those values are seemingly forgotten, along with the sacrifice of our grandfathers.

Apart from our troops in Afghanistan and Iraq a lot of our younger generation believe that sacrifice is a tangible thing. Like going without a curry after drinking 15 pints of lager.
Sadly as a nation we are more associated with drunken yobbos than we are with that old bulldog spirit.

This is no more evident than with our national sport 'soccer' on winning trophies the players initial celebrations reflect all that is anti-social.
They sing songs which consist of one mispronounced word repeated over and over again.
Champ-e-o-nes!!!! Champ-e-o-nes!!!! whilst gesturing with their arms that they are going to drink and drink and drink.

My own celebrations will be more subtle.
I will be riding my bike and wearing red, white, and blue and will ensure that my I Pod is loaded with patriotic songs. My route will be chosen on 'variety' to take in Wold, Moor, Plain and Coast in celebration of 'this fair and pastured land. 
I will toast the Queen.
I will be also be thinking about other sportsmen and women who will also be wearing red white and blue and trying to put the 'Great' back into Britain in our Olympic and Coronation Year.
For all of them representing the country 'this is their year'.
I wish them all luck.

My blogposts have been less frequent recently because in order to write about cycling you have to cycle! After an appalling start to the year May has been glorious!
So rather than Pedal.... pedal .....Blog .......Pedal ......pedal ......blog.
Its just been all pedal with no blog but I do have 900 miles in the bag for the month so blogging can now catch up.

May also provided The Anglo Mules with their own royal visitor in the shape of 'La Patron' Paddy from America who was leaner, stronger, fitter and faster than I have ever seen him.

Previously on his visits to the UK we have taken him over to Brantingham and Trundlegate to watch the 'Plainsman' suffer. But clearly in his newly acquired condition this was never going to work.

There was only one thing for it. The High Wolds around Thixendale.

In our attempts to make him suffer (Its what cyclists do) he rose to the challenge ensuring that if he was going to suffer on the Hills, that we would too, on the rare flat sections.
On these stretches he pushed us all into our respective 'Red Zones' and certainly taught me a few things about cycling with a purpose.
After the ride we were all treated to our first BBQ of the Year courtesy of Simon and Karen.
As well as our bikes my Camera got an outing.......see for yourself.

Hotter than Hell 2010 - Part 1 The Journey to Hell

After months of training Friday morning finally arrived.
It was not the usual Friday morning, the one that comes with a 4.30 am alarm call in Beverley, East Yorkshire.
The one that would be followed by dressing in the hours of darkness before cycling to work, comforted by a warm sensible coat.
Hardly the sort of Friday that would inspire the other two wheeled urban warriors that I look up to.
But this Friday was different.
This was 'The Friday Morning', just as the following day would be.............
'The Saturday'.

Rather than having the androgynous voice from my alarm repeatedly reminding me of the time I was woken by 'Le Patron' (My Brother Paddy) at a more civilized time of 6am reminding me that my domestique duties applied to more than cycling !!! As if I had forgotten.

By 8am the Mule Trailer was loaded and other Mules had arrived for the Journey north to Wichita Falls. So fleet of Hoof our wagon wheels did turn, taking us up Highway 45 Towards Dallas and Fort Worth.

We met up with Paddy's father in Law 'Joe' at The H3 Ranch which is located in the famous Stockyards area of Forth Worth.

For me personally it was a special experience.

Forty four years ago my father came to the USA with the British Air force and we were located in Fort Worth, Texas. I was only 6 at the time but went to school there for three years.

Its too long ago to remember everything but I do recall being very happy and having the opportunity to travel around America.

I also remember that my school class used to sing the British National Anthem every morning after there own, I really appreciated that and think the other kids enjoyed the novelty of it too.

Its often funny how things like that stick in your mind.

As I sat in the H3 Ranch drinking my Buffalo Butt Beer I wondered if my late father had visited the same hostelry, he may have even sat in the same seat.

I smiled knowing that he would have approved at my choice of beverage.

He also loved to cycle and like me took it up seriously later in life.

Joe a willey old Texan is not unaccustomed to such bar

He was the sort of man you listened to.

He spoke of bygone days when this particular part of Fort Worth was heaving with stock men bring their cattle to market.

With business done, dollars were exchanged for bouts of hard drinking and gambling followed by by the more expensive attractions that came accompanied by soft words and scented beds.

Although the piano had been replaced by a modern sound system, you could almost hear the faint tunes still reverberating within the floorboards.



With our victuals duly completed we left Forth Worth and headed north.

As we pulled our Mule Trailer out of the stockyards and onto the open road there was a real sense of poignancy.

Soon the air got drier and the temperature rose.

Lush greens were replaced by yellows and browns.

There cactus, nodding donkeys and buzzards all things I wanted to see.

This was Saturdays cycling terrain, hot dry prairie land.

Hotter than Hell

As we got closer to Wichita falls we also saw other Bikes, first only one or two, then dozens, then hundreds, until it reached a point that practically every vehicle on the road seemed to be part of some cycle carrying convoy.

Wichita Falls opened its arms to all of us and we were soon ensconced in our Hotel 'The Holiday Inn Express' on Kell Boulevard.

Like over excited children on Christmas Eve we were ushered to bed by wise words and the prospect of having to rise at 4am.

No sooner had I shut my eyes then it was time. 'The Saturday' had arrived and we all made our way to the start.

This year saw over 13,000 entrants and with so many cyclists for some it would take over an hour and a half to get over the start line.

We were positioned within the 'Scorchers' which meant we were meant to be able to complete the ride between 4-6 hours. It also meant that we could cross the start line within a few minutes after the official start time of 7am.

It was ironic that within the 13,000 people we ended up being stood next to a lovely couple from Kansas who were next to us in our hotel. I already knew from watching 'The Wizard of Oz' that people in Kansas are keen at cycling.

It was also apparent that some non scorchers had infiltrated our starting area and they were highly unlikely to cycle at the required pace.

Just before 7am I took off by helmet to the US National Anthem and did so with pride.

6 fighters jets flew over and a canon was let off to start our ride.

We were off........

Part 2 will be posted tomorrow

MS 150 Houston to Austin 2010 the Journey Starts

Usually when I have completed the MS 150 I have had the luxury of staying in a ranch close to La Grange the location used for the overnight stop. With such accommodation you get basic amenities such as hot and cold running water, fluffy pillows, and an environment relatively safe from third party intrusion.

For same insane reason which now escapes me Paddy and I decided that we would renege on the ranch and join the majority of the 'die hards' in a large communal tent.
We talked the whole thing up with views of fellowship and brotherhood and beer, after a while the notion became quite appealing.

On the Friday before the ride we helped load up the van that would be used to move 'The campers' gear. Not having slept under canvas since I was 11 years old I was surprised at the quantity and variety of appointments people brought for a single overnight stay.

One couple brought a bag that was so big that it could feasibly contain all of the contents of a small bedroom. Half jokingly I commented on this. The response which I recieved, I took to be delivered in the same tongue in cheek way as it confirmed that what I was suggesting was in fact true.

On Saturday morning I was up at 3am which I pointed out was closer to evening time, than morning!!!!! However being as resourceful as ever I soon found a 'pick me up'

WE started at about 7 with wet weather and a strong tail wind. Our team soon got into stride with a pace line that saw few rivals and gobbled up the miles. Without stopping we had soon arrived at Bellville for lunch having completed 50 miles. I struggled to keep up at times and when I got detached from the group, I had to work even harder to get back.

That Christmas cake and all those other bad things tasted great when I ate them but the added poundage was really taking its toll.

After lunch I became conscious that this two day event was only the start of something much bigger with 'The Natchez Trace' to follow immediately afterwards.
I allowed myself to be shelled from the group and was joined by Paddy and Taylor, we found our own pace which enabled us to enjoy the surroundings and not have to concentrate on half an inch of rubber.

We arrived at our refuge camp early in the afternoon and were each allocated a cot to sleep on. That's about 150 people in one tent.

Cosy

I managed to find one next to an exit and chuckled to myself as I observed the 'Big bag couple' unpack a blow up king size mattress, sheets, four pillows and a duvet.

Apart from the apparent loss of hot and cold running water, and fluffy pillows I was ever so perturbed about some unwanted guests. The floor of the tent appeared to be covered in spiders.

I don't like spiders and only wearing a pair of flip flops increased my anxiety. It was difficult to tell if it was a blade of grass of a 'legged' creature that tickled my toes.

With spiders on my mind I went to bed about 8pm knowing that we would be rising at 5am.

As I dozed off I dreamt of spiders crawling all over me and woke up in a start thankful it was just a dream only to see TWO spiders seemingly having a chat on my forearm.
My sleep was broken from then on as was my sense of humour as a storm broke outside.

My cot soon became an island surrounded by a shallow puddle of water.

Call me a wimp-camping out is not for me.

Sunday we set off at 7am and I was pleased to leave spider camp.

I found the ride to Austin tough going against a moderate headwind but we had a good group and got in just after lunch.

It was not my best MS 150, but like all of the five I have completed -it was memorable.

Natchez tomorrow..........bring it on.

Double trouble

Life has a habit of providing degrees of symmetry where things are paired together.
Things like:
Day and Night, Ying and Yang,Thunder and Lightening and Heaven and Hell.
Society has followed suit by making its own pairings like pairs of trousers, glasses, scissors, headphones and even handcuffs and shotguns, some of which I don't really understand the origins.
Over this weekend East Yorkshire had its own unique pairing in the form of twins.
My brother Paddy and I. We dabbled in our own favorite pairings too consuming, strawberries and cream, beer and peanuts and of course fish and chips.
We also had two cycle rides together.
Paddy is over from Houston on business and decided to come over to spend the weekend with his younger brother. When I say younger brother its actually Ten minutes, which is significant in the world of twins. It is the gap that separates the younger and the older.
I suspect that he also wanted check out the fitness of his 'Anglo Mules' (Simon and I) part of his 'Travels with my Mule Cycling Team.
Our event in August 'The Hotter than Hell' was apparently a very tough event and not for the unconditioned.
After group training for months with the Texas contingent, and clocking average miles in excess of 20mph he was perhaps concerned that Simon and I might slow the team down.
I was as nervous as a city banker at the potential scrutiny, as our own average times were far more modest.
Paddy resisted the invitation to head to the hill country and insisted that he wanted to replicate the sort of high tempo riding that we were likely to expect on the Texas plains.
With our own narrow twisting country roads, obligatory junctions and agricultural vehicles such a comparison was hard to achieve but it was all I could offer.
My East Yorkshire alternative was 'The Holderness Plain'
After 55 miles of riding Simon and I demonstrated to him some real Yorkshire grit.
We may not have had the advantages of team training, but we have had 3,000 + miles of riding in ice, snow, rain, gale force winds and F***ing big hills.
Our tempo seemed to impress our team leader and was at times too hot for his jet lagged legs.
By the end of our ride we had got the 'lone star' seal of approval.
Paddy declared 'I think you guys will be a great asset to our team'
Thank you Paddy we look forward to wearing our shirts with pride as well as copious amounts of sun block!!!!!!!

Training

209 miles this week, making 3,506 for the year. I will now try and do at least 200 miles per week. My virtual ride takes me into Charleston and as I enter this lovely city I really seem to be dancing on the pedals...............roll on Houston.

The Texas Cycling Experience - Travels with my Mule in Texas

As I start thinking about going home this Sunday I have been reflecting on my cycling experiences in Texas

Living in Beverley, (East Yorkshire,England) I have always felt spoilt about my cycling opportunities with so much contrasting variety in both the terrain and the natural beauty of the countryside. If you go East you have fast flat riding on the coastal Holderness plain which borders the North Sea. To the South you have the impressive Humber bridge with the Lincolnshire wolds beyond. To the west you have the East Yorkshire Wolds and the Vale of York . Finally to the North you have the Howardian Hills and North Yorkshire Moors, where the monster hills prey on tubby cyclists. Whatever route you choose you are in open countryside within five minutes.

Coming to Texas I have had to adjust considerably. To go anywhere you first had to encounter the vehicular gauntlet that is called '1960'. I am sure all major urban areas have their own equivalent, but to me this highway is particularly terrifying, even to drive on. To venture out on anything that contained less than two axles, and four wheels would be be like turning up at a slimming club with a family sized tub of Kentucky fried chicken.
The thought of having to drive somewhere - and then to cycle seemed to defeat the whole liberating experience. My own car is rarely used with an annual mileage of about 2,000 miles a year, about a quarter of the distance I cycle.

In Texas, like a lot of the big American cities the roads are cluttered with 'Drive ins'.

This viral epidemic which had previously only affected cinemas and fast food outlets, has been virulent, spreading to Banks, Chemists, Post offices, Dry cleaners, and supermarkets.

Seemingly there is very little you cant do from the drivers seat of an automobile.
This is such a great shame because once you get past your '1960' s of this world. Cycling is a great an healthy alternative, with huge enviromental positives. In Texas there are in fact some great places to cycle, most of which have been put in place by local government.
Memorial Park,Terry Hersey Park, Cullen Park, Beaver creek and Bush Park to name a few.

The fascillities are first class.

There was also an added attraction - It may just be at one time the Great man Lance Armstrong could have ridden the same tracks.

Even if you do have to venture out onto the main roads and highways most of them have a hard shoulder as wide as some of our own motorways back in England. Places are accessible by bike !!!!!!

Once I allowed myself to relax, I felt far less intimidated by traffic than I ever do in my own country.

In England cars like to engage with you.

You know get 'close up and personal'.

Stroking your leg with a wing mirror would not seem out of place at all.

I realise that this sort of intamacy is usually monogomous and reserved for a human relationship, but cars are sleezebags.

They dont mind you embracing other items such as kerbs and hedgerows and are all too willing to encourage you.

If you dont take care they will have you kissing a lampost without a second thought.

And they say that English people are not warm hearted!!!!!

The many cyclists I met on my trips in Texas we ALL incredibly warm and friendly and there was none of the bike snobbery that I have sometimes witness in England.

At one time or another we were all bought our first bike.

The very first time we revolved those pedals 'unaided' we became cyclists.

Although we may have embraced different disciplines, intensity, frequency and type of use, we are all still just cyclists.

The moment we forget that we risk losing the thrill and freedom it can bring in differing degrees - to anybody.

One winter morning I was once passed by a pace line from one of our local cycling clubs. Being a bit larger than I am now, but still in Lycra, I received some looks that suggested I was not worthy to be out on a road bike.This was accompanied by some sniggering as they snaked passed.

Ten minutes later I overtook half of them climbing 'The Devils Chimney'.

A beast of a hill that climbs 800 ft in a mile, which just happens to be my favorite local climb. Scott has even warmed to it too.

As the uniformed skeletons ascended the steepest part of the gradient they rocked from side to side, out of their razor edged saddles. I sat back in mine setting a steady rhythm and admired the wold top view. Taking a drink from my water bottle, I remarked with a very anxious voice that my drink had contained too much brandy.

When I got to the top the others were waiting. As I cycled passed them I smiled saying 'Not bad for a fat lad eh?'

Texas I loved cycling here !!!!!!!