Cobbled Climbs

The Santini Lincoln Classic Sportive
The pace gets faster as we descend into the belly of this ancient city and crowds increase in anticipation of the final crescendo.
I hear a group of scouts cheering gleefully and informing us of the impending terror ahead!

400 meters of cobbled climb, at a gradient enough to lift your front wheel.
The climb greets you like a kick in the teeth and after yards you can taste the blood in your throat.

A cloudburst changes the surface into shimmering sliders and your wheels struggle for traction.
The crowd cheers and the announcers calls out my name and the name of the Mules 

Rule 5 is applied today
We all smile :)

 

Elevated Ambitions

 

During the past few weeks I have had a years drama fired at me.

Apart from being even less disposed to unnamed individuals and an enforced absence from cycling - I live to fight on!

One of the great thing that cycling can provide you is mental toughness, the knowledge that real adversity is never more than temporary, and at the end of every climb the pedalling gets easier

 

As the year draws to an end I am able to look over those personal gradients and see ones that are far more interesting.
 

Whilst riding the Tour of London this year I renewed my acquaintance with Rachel Simpson who I first met whilst completing the Tour de Pink in 2011.

There is nothing conventional about Rachel who is part Serbian, Romanian, and Yankton/Oglala Lakota (Native American) 

 

Living in Denver her cycling terrain starts at the same altitude as cruising Light aircraft and when she climbs, this Cat 4 rider regularly revisits the 14 k club.
That's vertical, not horizontal.

 

  

Having previously been a line out Jumper, playing second row for the University of Chicago Women's Rugby Team - she would be used to flinging herself to great heights.

 

As well as being an honouree American Mule, she also rides for the charity club side of the Jelly Belly p/b Kenda pro team.
Like the Mules,  charity riding is prominent in her repertoire and each year, their club side raises over $50,000 for a local children's Hospital.

 

Rachel spoke at length about cycling in the Rockies and I become all misty eyed when I heard her talk about such events as 'the triple bypass' and 'the double triple'.

From that moment ton the Rockies were definitely in my bucket list.

 

Recently, she made further contact to the Mules informing us a new mythical ride called Tour of the Moon.

 

 This is a yearly bicycle tour  organized by Icon Lasik and is held at the Colorado National Monument,Grand Junction, Colorado. 

Held every October, the inaugural season took place on October 6, 2012 with two thousand cyclists taking part.

The route was formerly one of the premier stages of Coors Classic cycling race from 1980 to 1988. The Coors Classic cycling race was apparently one of the most famous cycling race in the world. 

Of course Rachel is used to dramatic countryside, but when she declared that some of the views reduced her to tears I simply taken in. I had no choice.

A  general 'Mule call' was required to  see if I could generate any interest, in participation, especially with my twin and regular benefactor Paddy. 

Rachel also suggested if we undertook this event we might also like to climb Mount Evans - The highest road in the United States at over 14,000.



The idea of cycling for 5 hours climbing to, and above 14,000 feet, in such spectacular surroundings....................
Then taking part in Tour de Moon in a landscape that befits any Hollywood western is just inspiring.
Although the actual ride and climb will be tougher than anything I have ever done, I have no fear..........after all I am already freewheeling down the other side.

 

A week to remember Part 2 - Ride London

 

London Calling

As a enthusiastic cook I often surprise myself by my creations.

You know.......when you throw something together.

A bit of this, a bit of that and suddenly you have a gorgeous meal that is raved about.

Although I am always keen to take credit for anything, I realise that such culinary achievements could never be possible without a series of key ingredients.

At the very end of July a week started that contained some high quality ingredients, as well as enough drama to make even Kevin Spacey salivate.
The fact that the week ended in August is significant as the adventure seemed to have lasted a month.

It started with a Coast to Coast cycle ride across Merry Albion and ended with riding in 'Ride London Surrey 100' the first closed road sportive that any Major city has ever hosted.
So this is Part 2 of this Velo-adventure.  

Meggin reacquainted with 'Griffin' - her family name

Guardians of the City

When I was accepted to take part in Ride London I knew it would be good, but because it was the first event of its kind I expected some teething problems.

Things like delays, over-congestion, accidents, cars appearing on the course, poor feed stations and of course my favourite not enough toilets.

I was not sure how the Anglo and American mules would gel or whether egos would influence teamwork. There was a lot to go wrong.

Frankly I underestimated the ingredients.

Great people

Great attitude

Great organisation

Great weather

London served us up a dish to remember, one that I wish to gorge on, again and again.

When Paddy suggested that we travelled to London on Thursday, I was a little surprised.
I know he likes to get to the start early but three days seemed a little excessive.

He argued his case well.

1. 'We can register early at the Excell Centre and avoid the rush'. he expounded - Good point

2. 'We can check out the start and see how long it takes to get there' - Granted

3. 'We can work out a good place to meet up considering that some of us have differing start times' - He was doing well

4. 'We can make sure the hire bikes all have two wheels'.

So Thursday it was!!
 

Hays Galleria

By water is as good as by Wheel

Arriving late Thursday afternoon at the Excell Centre was meant to be straight forward, we 'pop in' register, collect our packages and go to the Hotel.

For convenience we had hired a van, however the hirer forgot to mention that there was no A/C.
We improvised by opening the windows, but road works most of the route not only elongated the suffering but prevented any airflow.
The 90 degree temperature made the cab very 'Moist'.
Paddy's attempted humour and made a few wise cracks about it being cooler than Houston - I told him that he was better equipped to do his day job.
Relief was palpable when I spied the signs to the Excell Centre with directions for a selection of car parking spaces. Unfortunately this did not apply to Vans.

Using some guile and poetic licence I managed to sweet talk a sweet Lithuanian Security guard into letting us park with the trade vehicles. I persuaded her that Paddy was Peter Segan and that he had put on a few pounds after finishing the Tour de France.

Thankfully none of the hurdles placed before us had anything to do with the organisers and once we gained access to the Excell Centre everything was life free wheeling with a tail wind.
There were hundreds of volunteers to help and guide us to the right place and enough trade stands to keep coax out even the most reluctant wallet

Wheres my spoke adjuster

 

The Explorer

Friday consisted of Team Bonding, sight seeing, and trying to see if they can brew beer 'Down South'. All  aspects went well apart from the beer evaluation - probably because the southerners seem to prefer lager and regard real ale as nothing more than mucky water.
The hired bikes were obtained from 'On Yer bike' which although highly recommended it is not the easiest of places to get to.
Having been deprived of my Addy (My Scott Addict) through an ill timed mechanical problem I secured an entry Level Trek 1.1 road bike.
Anything more advanced I would have required a small mortgage for deposit.
After a few adjustments, my own seat, pedals, water cages and well placed strips of red and black electrical tape, ride numbers etc - the result no longer looked like a 'hire bike'.
A well loved two wheeled companion had emerged from the corner of the hotel room, ready to carry me over 100 miles at a pace to out-pedal even the most enthusiastic of politicians.

 

Wheres the bike Shed?

Saturday featured a closed road 'Freecycle' around central London.
With our finest Mule livery we ventured out.



Guess we will just park here

It was a surreal experience riding on closed roads around the Iconic sights of London.
Every opportunity we had pictures were taken and the atmosphere was milked up in churn loads.
We even decided to add to the Guinness book of records by getting 6 mules into a phone box.
I am not sure its an official category but we are looking to beat it again very soon.



How many Mules can you get in a phone box?

Mule Train on the Embankment



I can hear a Siren



One day I was cycling by St Pauls..................



What would Christopher Wren have said ?

Meggin and her Mule

As lunch time approached, things got messy and to be frank dangerous.
I was wanting to have a closer look at the excess on my bike hire for fear of an inevitable spillage.
This free ride for all was being jumped upon by half of London with hundreds of cyclist everywhere you looked.
Each had there own speed, experience, spacial awareness, risk radar and more significantly levels of responsibility.
Small children criss-crossed the road in joyous abandon as if at home in their private cul-de-sac
parents looked on seemingly deaf to the screeching brakes and subdued curses.



Budding Laura Trott

Other older children in their mid thirties used the moving mass of as an obstacle course and weaved in and out as fast as they could.
Sadly they too seemed oblivious to the dangers they were presenting to both themselves and others or maybe they just did not care.
One particular over tattooed specimen took great exception to advice I offered.
His response 'unmeasured' was a decision to share with me all the curse words he had ever learned.
I had heard of most of them and insultingly some referred to animals other than a Mule.
Some he also used more than once - poor show, clearly he learned nothing else in life.

With tempers rising I did not want to share some Anglo Saxon traits with my American Cousins and offered a pilgreimage. All agreed so we decided to cease this glorious stupidity and detour to the Cyclist shrine - The Rapha Store.
Caffeine and things of beauty.................Bliss


Obligatory visit to Rapha Store

I want to be one of those!

Getting up at 4.45 on Sunday morning was not alien to me.......It was the usual time I get up in the week to commute so I did not have to adjust my alarm.
It was 2 miles from our Hotel to an official drop off point on Jamacia Rd, Bermondsey, and then a further 5 miles to the start.
We cycled past the Olympic Cycle stadium which was ironically illuminated by the first golden rays of morning sunshine.Goosebumps appeared on my arms a trend that was going to continue throughout the day.

Just Perfect

With your rider number you were allocated a letter to signify your loading pen. Most of us were letter 'K' and being Mules we were quite used to 'Pen life'.
The start was amazing with fast roads leading through a neutralised area to a formal start some 5 miles in.
It was clear straight away that some of the participants new to mass riding had not been totally honest when they filled in  their anticipated ride times.
They were soon found out being swamped by passing cyclists.
It must have been terrifying!!!!
We agreed to meet some of our earlier starters on the road and by the time we had reached the city we had our own Mule Train (Pace line) in place.
Caught in the moment their was no room for the nervous, as the pedals pushed out unprecedented watts and the air crackled with adrenaline.

Sun touched athletes

As ready as I ever will be

Richmond Park

There was no real need to stop at the first feed station despite it being warm most of us had both food and at least a bottle left, but how could you not stop at Hampton Court.
In all of my sportives I have stopped at schools, churches, garages, parks, in laybys, outside toilets and on moor tops, but this must take the prize as the most unorthodox of venues.
I think the stop extended our finishing time somewhat as we all wanted pictures.

Unconventional Feed Station

The unbridled joy of finding Toilets with no queue

The Pace continued throughout and up to Surreys version of a climbs featuring Leith Hill and Box hill.  For us  the only hazard was other riders knocked in their tracks by the increase in gradient as some southerners struggled we mocked that such climbs are considered false flats in Yorkshire.

Race Faces

From Box Hill to the finish I have never pedalled so fast for so long. Great crowds had assembled along the route, Raucous, encouraging and ensuring that adrenaline levels were topped up to the limit.We kept our paceline going which made spectators believe that maybe we were some professional unit as they seemed to keep their loudest cheer for us.

Or is it just my imagination?

Finally we arrived at the mall, a spectacular union jack lined corridor of pleasure, with pounding hearts, smiling faces and the odd tear in the eye.

It was A MAZ ING !!!!!!!!

Already looking forward to Next year....What a buzz

Crash, Bang, Wallop

In the world of the road cyclist they say that there are two types of riders.

Those who have crashed, and those who have not yet crashed.

The emphasis is seemingly on the inevitability of the occurrence.

Its funny how many anecdotes start with the collective 'They'

Sometimes there is a slight deviation where their certainty appears to waver.

In these rarer moments and they 'reckon' rather than 'say'

Either way Id like to know exactly who THEY are?

As far as cycling is concerned, don't we have any other options?

What about 'If you ride carefully and defensively, calling out wherever possible and wearing enough reflective gear to be seen from outer space?

Apparently 'They say' - that it does not matter! You will eventually CRASH

Charming !!!

But they were right

After a terrible winter that lasted right up to and beyond Easter, there was not much room for spring,

It came and went, barged aside by summer who gate crashed over the horizon.

With the warmth came the Lycra and gleaming bikes with shiny cassettes.

Much too new to have been cleaned that way, and surely never caressed by a chain.

Inexperience too.

The weekly Sportives post Brad have multiplied with as many each week as there were previously filling the entire calender.

In the Middle of June we did the Hornsea 100 km.

An Anglo Mule train across the Holderness Plain.

The poetry may have been lost on some, but our fluidity was something to admire.

Nigel - steering our paceline was more difficult than his Helicopter



Hitting the Holderness Plain



This was a warm up ride for our annual adventure down to Cambridgeshire for the 112 Mile Flat out on the Fens the following week.
We set off at 7am maintaining a speed close to 20 mph with a paceline the envy of many.

So much so that it grew and grew with solitary riders avoiding the strong winds at our expense.

After about 80 miles one of the signs appeared to have been moved which resulted in us (And everyone else on the road) taking the wrong route.

After about 7 miles we came to a T  Junction leading to a busy main road.

By this time one of the Motorcycle Marshall's had realised what had happened and escorted us back on track.

On the way we collected all of the oncoming riders and had soon amassed a large group of mixed abilities.

Unfortunately the true course presented us was a strong headwind and  narrow road to contend with. 

If you were at the back the pace must have seemed too slow

If you were at the front you were struggling to make headway against a blustery wind.

It all got very messy with riders pushing to the front  thinking they could pull the train along quicker.

On encountering the wind they often went slower still.

This created an inconsistent pace which constantly fluctuated and a concertinaed like a Squeezebox being played on acid

I guess it was inevitable as all the danger signs were there.

Crash, Bang, Wallop

Everything seemed to be in slow motion.

Screeching brakes, bikes, bodies and bottles, bouncing and bumping.

I avoided all and listened to my heart racing as I brought my bike to a stop, my hands frozen in a vice like grip on the brakes.

I took in a deep intake of breath and thanked my lucky stars.

Premature.

Crash, Bang, Wallop..........Struck from behind my seat post swivelled turning me around to witness the mayhem.

Sadly the impact also buckled both my wheels and my event was over.

Thankfully it was only the event over and not the season which is now in full swing.

Over the coming days and weeks It will be a case of playing Catch up.

I have 'An adventure to the Moors', The Big G, and Katy Flatlands (USA) to write about.

In the next two weeks we also have an Anglo/US Mule adventure Coast to Coast and Ride London.

Its the Golden Era of Cycling.

Id better get typing