Bamboozled by Brighton

With Alex recovering in hospital today (after being hit by a car while out walking on Saturday) I turned my thoughts to brighter times and realised we still have to share days 2 and 3 of our South Downs Challenge. Day 2 is hard for me - I have put it off, as the events at the end of our day's cycling still plays on my mind - but here goes.

We were up bright and early and decided to just pop a note through the door of our good samaritan farmer (rather than wake him up) - I hope he got that note and knows just how much we appreciated his field.

Amber didn't appear at first but, after much nagging, she ventured out and her tent was dismantled before she had chance to get back in! and back on our bikes we headed up hill out of Cocking to the South Downs car park by the Cowdray Estate for breakfast.

The scrambled (more frambled) eggs, bread and coffee were not quite up to Master Chef Steve's usual standards but it hit the spot and we set off with purpose to attack the brilliantly named Didling Hill - a downhill that then involves a mile of uphill. After that we then made really good time on a nice (smoothish) track and only stopped for a quick banana skin throwing contest (which Amber won easily - top banana award to her).

Around 10.00 ish we came across lots of runners warming up. Because Belles do stopping to chat best we quickly established that these were the Stage 3 runners of the 3 section relay taking place as part of a half marathon event. With marshalls watching from the bottom of the hill I was absolutely determined to get all the way up a long, steep slippery, rutted chalk, track that ordinarily even I would have walked up! at the top I was rewarded with the opportunity to cheer on the front runners of the relay as I waited for my fellow Belles.



The long hill is the chalk line on the far side heading into trees.



At some point we got a bit lost and found ourselves on a farm track we shouldn't have been on. Surprised by a speeding farmer on a quad bike (really he was going far to fast for a public track) we stopped and suspecting we were on the wrong route we redoubled and found we had missed turn. Female logic is grand. Though you will soon find it failed us later in the day.

We were soon back on track and crossing the river at Amberley. Pub was mentioned in Amberley but we didn't find it - the South Downs Way manages to skirt the entire village and gives no opportunity to get to the ever evident pub with it's very inviting umbrellas. We did take full advantage of the water tap on route though. Aah well, remember this is all for charity!

Lunch eventually came upon us - we had to run a very busy A road but on the far side Steve and Annalise were waiting in the car park (Washington I think) with a fabulous feast of handmade sarnies (from a little shop in Brighton where these 2 had been to play on the beach and for us seemed so far away) and strawberries, oh the strawberries were a true inspiration. Their efforts were slightly outshined by the Korean MB support team who arrived and set up a table then loaded it with a high calorie, protein filled feast for the team in training who were today doing the entire length of the South Downs Way - honestly there are times when...

With tummys full we set off uphill on a loose stony track and just kept going. The track opens up onto downland for the first time today and we found ourselves on a beautiful sweeping grassy track that was soft under saddle (for a while). Here we 'reunited' with a couple we had met yesterday and stopped for a catch up - they had been concerned about us and where we would end up so we had to tell them the cock up story. Tonight they are stopping at Truleigh Hill YHA - we have quite a bit further than that to do so waved farewell and trundled on.

This is a ride for meeting lovely people. Next we met a horse rider and her fabulously crazy boyfriend who was happy to walk alongside to open gates. Also a couple of (older) ladies were cycling at their own pace and having a wonderful time. Oh, we also came across the Koreans again waiting to serve afternoon tea to their chaps - no Steve and Annalise here though - no wonder the Koreans can do it in a day!

Up to Truleigh Hill and over Devils Dyke the views are amazing - the new Brighton and Hove Albion football stadium was ever present and eventually we could see the sea before we dropped off the ridge and came to a small village (Saddlescombe I think) and hurrah, hurrah we found a tea stand where we had the honour of being last customers of the day and had our coffee topped up for free.

From here the phone calls began - the boys had found a campsite and were pitching tents and wanted to know how long we would be - we hadn't got a clue of course but were now feeling the day was coming to a close. Then disaster, we got lost. Not very lost but lost enough to get confused. We somehow had missed a turn just before the A23 and didn't realise. We followed our route directions and they worked perfectly, logic and instinct didn't tell us we were about half a mile short of where we should be as we crossed the bridge over the A23. Here it became obvious we were not on route. We found a friendly mountain biking local and asked advice.

No problem said he - go up the road, round the corner and up the road again then take any (yes any) bridlepath to the left and it will bring you back up to the South Downs Way. So, it was a slight diversion but it saved us having to back track and we felt it was OK to miss a little bit. Big mistake.

We managed to get on the only (any) bridlepath that ended up as a dead end on a footpath. We couldn't see the South Downs Way and we really didn't want to lift our bikes over anymore stiles. My sense of direction is good and, despite the stiles, I felt we were headed in the right direction (and this was proven by my sat nav on phone). However, nerves were stretched and tiredness was taking hold and now, we had a stile to lift over.

Before I admit to what happened next, I would like to present a case for my defence. I was feeling quite sick with nerves. True I had the courage of conviction that we were close on route but I didn't know which side of Ditchling we were at and I was absolutely dreading the thought of the Belles reaction to discovering we had to cycle Ditchling Beacon. I simply didn't realise the South Downs Way crosses the top of this infamous local landmark and that we were already up top. So, I was very, very worried. (Case dismissed - no not really!).

Poor Vicky (of all people) 'whinged' just a little about the stile and my nerve cracked. We lifted 3 bikes over the stile and (unfortunately) Vicky turned away before my bike had made the crossing. So, oh this is hard to say, I did something I am truly ashamed of...

...I threw my bike over the stile. My poor bike that has served me so well. And, I threw it without even thinking what it could do to Vicky (nothing luckily). I then got on my bike and peddled off leaving 3 stunned (though still stroppy) Belles behind me. I hit the road and was relieved to spot (before the spectre of Ditchling Beacon had chance to present itself) a Green RS Focus coming along the road - hooray for Andy and the smiling Joe! They stopped briefly then drove on to find the others giving me time to calm down in a layby while waiting for them to find the others and get their bikes onto his car before coming back for me.

We then drove down Ditchling Beacon into the village and out the other side to a lovely little campsite with tents pitched, basic (but functional) loos, a shower and no rain.

Wine, chips and the thought of being able to sleep in properly put up tents with duvets and pumped up mattresses, soon calmed the nerves and we got on with entertaining our boys with stories of the day and discovering the delights of the toilet at the camp site!

Alex, Amber and Vicky all know how sorry I am about 'the incident' but still, to this day, I am truly ashamed and often wonder if, in that short moment, I took the shine off the Pollicott Belles just a little bit. For now, though, we have more important issues to consider - how to get Alex mended and back on a bike?

I dedicate this blog edition to my lovely friend Alex and hope the arm mends fast.

Camping Cock up in Cocking

The pain has passed and it’s time we shared some of the highs and lows of our trip along the South Downs Way. I am going to start with the camping cock up in Cocking.

Day One took 13 hours of hard pedalling (don’t ask me why – we didn’t let up any) - and despite meeting some lovely people we were all getting despondent as we neared the end of the day.

Then phone calls started to come in from our support team (problems afoot) and supporters club (which pub are you in?) which slowed us down even more AND added to the trauma.

Earlier in the day space at Graffham campsite was confirmed as ours. A nice campsite with showers and a pub nearby - wonderful - that thought had spurred us on. However when our support crew arrived they were told our tents had to be erected by 8pm or we would lose our space - because Caravan Club Rules cannot be broken under any circumstances. I'm not going to go into why our tents were not immediately put up but the long and short of it is that we lost our space and needed to find an alternative place to sleep.

On the trail we Belles could do nothing about it but pedal and hope the problem would sort itself by the time we arrived. Frantic calls were being made out of the black van but no solution had been identified by the time we arrived at Cocking.

There were plenty of fields around so Vicky and Amber went in search of a house and found a very helpful lady in a nearby cottage. Turns out this is all Cowdray estate land and she phoned the estate manager who was categoric that NO camping could be done on his land. So that was not an option. With tempers extremely frayed and potential for saying things we might regret, we turned our focus on a car park and were debating illegal camping when my brother Rob (supporters club coming to join us for a quick drink) declared the problem solved.

Rob and the Bluebell pub in Cocking had, between them, got it all sorted. 10 minutes later (at 10pm) we found ourselves pitching camp in the dark, in a long grassed field, in the rain, for a night of ‘wild camping’ courtesy of an elderly farmer who (as Rob put it) quite fancied the idea of 4 lovely ladies sleeping in his field overnight. He is such a salesman that boy!

As tents were pitched by all hands (including Heather and Tom my niece and nephew who impressively got one tent up all by themselves) Suzy and Rob went in search of food - which they found at the local Spar. (It was another downer to find that the Spa (reportedly along the road) turned out to be a Spar!).

So it was soggy sandwiches in the back of the van rather than a hot tub and sauna before a quick drink at the Bluebell (with their ladies loos spookily labelled ‘Belles’ - it was meant to be) followed by a second night of less than comfortable, cold, sleeping with rain a'drumming on the tent and Vicky providing my night time 'entertainment'.

Next morning, on discovery that we had not, after all, died from hyperthermia in the night, we dragged ourselves out of bed (and then we all dragged Amber out) for another day of fun on the trail - starting with a breakfast of scrambled eggs on bread and coffee in the car park.  

Bad Wind Stopped Play

For 2 weeks in a row we Belles have not trained and last weekend’s excuse was ‘bad wind’. This was neither due to a fear of following flatulent fellow Belles nor a result of our ‘training’ excesses the previous week. It was simply that weather conditions were against us.

At this point, ordinarily, I would have said “it’s only a little bit of wind, come on girls” or something similar. But I knew better than that because:

1. I did that when it was just a little bit frosty and that led to a series of unfortunate events and
2. I was out pedalling in high winds a few weeks ago and it was an interesting experience...

I went for spin on my road bike in similar (but not as bad) weather conditions. It should have been a relaxing Saturday pedal and yet it became a battle of wits at every field gate. In fact, the wind whipped through any gap, in any boundary, and my journey through Bucks, Oxon (and a little bit of Northants) was a perilous game of chicken. Would I, or would I not, make it past the gap before the wind gusted? On more than one occasion I found myself passing a gap and making sudden, involuntary, lurches across the road on my wonderfully light carbon fibre machine. I didn’t come off but that was more down to luck than skill or judgement.

So this got me thinking – what do (dare I say it) (even) more committed cyclists do to combat bad wind?

Cycle Performance Tips tell us to:

• Keep a good mental attitude. Stay positive. Wind, day after day, can beat you down mentally. But head winds actually help improve fitness.
• Watch for cross winds. Especially on roads with truck traffic. When you're leaning left to maintain a straight line and a passing vehicle momentarily blocks the wind, you might veer into the lane. Fight the tendency by keeping your elbows loose and upper body relaxed.

Cycle Chat advice is:

• Hope drivers are aware that a sudden gust of wind can cause a sudden wobble.
• Follow a cyclist with a flag and use that to warn of coming gusts.

And finally Cycling Tips, Australia came up with the answer:

• Cycle as a group and be...
• ...like geese. This is the most efficient way of using the group’s energy to cut through the wind and maintain a high average speed. The riders in the echelon will rotate through from the sheltered side to the front and then pull off back on the windward side.

So be warned you may just see us gals cycling in an echelon formation with a flag flying, heads down, necks extended, flapping our floppy elbows and squawking (more than usual). And be aware that, despite our best efforts, we may suddenly veer into your path and blame it on bad wind.

Pride before a fall...

Our eventful ride last Sunday meant we had to shorten the route and take to the roads but I was so proud of the Belles - especially Amber who took her first 'field' expedition completely in her stride. Though quite fun, we had had a tough ride and there were very few grumbles despite being muddy and tired. Amber was late home too so on the 'home strait' of Quainton road I upped the pace and sped off. It didn't go so well!

I've always thought that people who crash on black ice must have been driving too fast for the 'obviously icy' conditions. Actually I now know that black ice is invisible - totally invisible. I didn't see it coming, I didn't have even the slightest suspicion that it was icy. The road was wet - NOT icy. Amber says I went down like a 'plank' which, though I'm not keen on the analogy, feels appropriate. My wheels just went from under me. I hit the road, very hard and very quickly - I didn't even have time to think 'it's gonna hurt'. Suddenly I was just lying in the middle of the road.

Survival instinct kicked in - 'cars coming' I thought and stood up quick which caused me to make a swift return to the tarmac. I did a sort of dancing on ice routine and got to the verge performing a Hamill-Camel figure-skating move (google it!) to retrieve my bike. Simultaneously I tried to give a reassuring thumbs up to the concerned looking lady in a, by now, passing car and make positive responses to the voices in my head saying 'are you OK?'.

As my world began to re-balance and I finally managed to stand up I looked around (expecting nothing less than a string of '6's') but found I had competition in my new found sport. Amber was the last Belle standing and Vicky and Alex were both lying on the verge a short distance behind us.

Ooer - Two cars were approaching and I was terrified they would brake, skid and hit us all (it's a bright outlook on life I have at times like this). So I stood in the road, waving my arms until they slowed down.

The driver of the first car passed slowly waving cheerily back at the crazy lady. The second car was a Community Police patrol from Waddesdon and thankfully more aware of the road conditions. You have to love our Community Police - we were informed they were making regular trips up and down this road to check for (further) incident and accident - it was black ice all the way to the A41 (about a mile). Police advice was not to continue along it but to take the Waddesdon road which was ice free.

Of course we took the Police recommended route home which, though further and involved cycling more of the A41 than any of us are comfortable with, was another new route for us Belles.

With no more ice to worry about we pedalled along reflecting on the incident. What if?.. no, don't think about it! we didn't have a video camera and that was that - £750 from 'You've been Framed' would have boosted our fundraising - sadly it was a missed opportunity. When, eventually the conversation turned to the lovely Community Police I was surprised by my fellow Belles' powers of observation. While I had been stood telling the friendly face looking out of the car all about the fall (and rather hoping he would call an air ambulance) it seems the others had been clocking all - I must have been in shock cos I missed all this:

1. He had an iPhone 4 (so there was no chance of reception to call the air ambulance then!).
2. The driver was a WPC (I didn't even notice her. If asked I would have said he was the driver - dur - apparently he had a phone in his hand and was in the passenger seat).
3. He was good looking (see I was in shock).
4. He's not on Amber's watch - praise be he didn't recognise her!

I do know their car was back at Waddesdon Police Station as we cycled by and that they were not outside waiting for us with cups of tea (or an air ambulance or trailer) - where's the community spirit in that?

Anyway, it's over, we arrived home very late, very tired, very subdued but thankful to be very alive!

This is what my knee looked like when I peeled my cycling trousers off (impressively the trousers were still in tact).


Would not have looked good in the Sexy Santa Suit!



A Series of Unfortunate Events...

Saturday 8th January - the troubles began with an evening in Gatehangers - the new route was discussed, at length, with local farming folk who totally agreed (sort of, vaguely) that it was, indeed, an excellent route.

Next a text arrived - it was from Amber offering to pick up Alex in the morning so they could cycle back up the hill together from Wescott (Alex left her bike at Amber's house - bottom of the hill - last week). However, the new route would take us back past Amber's house so that wasn't a good idea. The trouble is the alternative was decided upon in an alcoholic haze - Alex would walk/backy down to Wescott with me. Vicky would meet us there. This was, with hindsight, a bad plan - we got off to a slow start and delays on route are what led to our eventual downfall. That and a series of events that were really quite unfortunate.

Sunday 9th January - was a frosty morning. I was excited about the new route. Over my breakfast I posted on facebook that I was heading out to cycle on ice, on a new route and that love would surely flow between us Belles. Oh many a true word!

Alex arrived in the garage, love a flowing, as I was preparing my bike, and advised me that the paperman had reported nasty roads. "It's a bit of frost" (I thought) and told Alex she didn't get out of it that easily - the ride is on and I presented the 'new route' with excited glee.

There follows a series of  events that were so unfortunate they are almost shocking. Over the next few days this series of unfortunate events will be blogged by Belles various:

• Alex will report the journey downhill to Westcott and her happy reunion with her bike.
• Amber will explain how she quickly became deflated and how this was resolved.
• Vicky reveals how cycling can bring back happy memories of gates and fields and things.
• We will all share thoughts and perspectives of our ultimate downfall.

This is the route - note it doesn't follow roads all the way - herein lies the problem!