Der Panzerwagen

You Can Barely Make Him Out

Pulling up at the meet point in Cottingham the first thing that I noticed was Chris and his kit.

He was resplendent in Tinkoff Saxo camouflage kit which ironically made him really stand out.

I know what you are thinking.

Doesn't he look just like a German WW2 tank commander !

I know weird isn't it !?

Maybe this wasn't quite the environment for the camouflage to work. He wasn't exactly blending in.

Perhaps when we got into the countryside it would work better ?

We would see....or maybe we wouldn't.

I was due to start night shifts that evening and I thought I was being a bit of a tough guy going on a bike ride that day.

Not for me the comforts of a lie in or a lazy day on the settee getting my body ready for the self harm that is keeping awake all night. I felt I was proper hardcore !

That was until I learned that 2 of the guys on the ride had finished a night shift that morning, came straight to the ride and would be back on night shift later. If you lads want the tough guy prize you can have it. I was keen but I was not that keen.

There was a super turnout for the ride. Chris was trying to tot up how many before the ride started. I counted 23 and eventually counted myself to make it 24, duh !

THE ROUTE

This club ride was going to be a relatively short but circuitous route taking in North Newbald, High Gardhams and the hill up Trundlegate before returning to Cottingham.  To add a few miles to it I would make a return trip to Cottingham from Barton which would get the whole ride up to about 55 miles.

Chris was leading the ride which made his pseudo military attire quite appropriate. He faced a challenge to his authority though not long after the ride had started.

Leaving Cottingham we got onto the A164 cycle path and took a left turn onto Dunflat Road. Shortly thereafter we should have bared left to keep us on Dunflat Road to Little Weighton.

Keeping in the middle of a strung out pack to look after all the ranks and the cowards at the back, like me, Chris was unable to stop the front guys barrelling past the correct turn.

As a result we all ended up on the outskirts of Walkington well off the planned route.

To add insult to injury the rabble-rousers who had gone the wrong way then challenged Chris

"C'mon Chris this is your ride which way are we going to go now !?"

If it was me I think a firing squad would have been in order for this mini insurrection. But rather than shoot them a fairly direct route was decided upon to intersect with the original course and off we went.

"About Turn ! " Scene Of The Insubordination

Ok that's one solution I suppose.

Well handled Chris.

I think we could have shot a couple though as an example. We had loads of riders we could afford to lose a few ! 

I encountered Phil at the back in the early stages. The last time we went on a ride together he was wearing shorts in cold and wet conditions ( yes it was cold Phil ! )

This time not only were his legs trying to absorb vitamin D but he was baring his arms as well. Still no sign of any colour yet. Not a jot.

To be fair there were plenty more in shorts so maybe I was being a wimp. My 2 week window for wearing shorts doesn't open until July.

GETTING BACK ON TRACK

 

To get back on track we needed to take on an extra little hill Common Road that would bring us out on the road to North Newbald. 

We were rather strung out and I decided to make one of my death or glory efforts for the front. 

Perhaps not too interesting in of itself but this gives me an excellent opportunity to show a video where I have finally figured out how to put my speed and heart rate data on the screen. 

ITS THE WAY I TELL EM

 

We Are Not Amused

Having narrowly avoided the death option above I made another cautious descent of Burgate into North Newbald.

From there we exited North Newbald by taking the  "easy" climb of Beverley Road and Walkington Heads. 

At the top we found a spot for a regroupment where there was a bit of banter amongst the ranks

Charlie Has Not Been Seen Since This Picture Was Taken

Charlie decided to take the risky option of telling a joke

" What's brown, smells and sounds like a bell ? "

"Go on then what is it ? " I said unwisely.

"Dung ! " said in the manner of a ringing bell.

Charlie laughed his head off whilst for the rest of us the tumbleweed blew across the road.

I presume the firing squad administered swift military justice as I never saw him on the ride after that.

 

CAROL ATTACKS

We moved on towards Bishop Burton and the group got some good speed up. The temptation to rip it up would become too great for one of our number.

Carol is known for her trademark sprints. I am beginning to recognise the warning signs now.

Sprint No 1

Firstly there is a mental softening up of the opposition. 

Carol cruised up to me like a shark eyeing it's prey.

"What is that bag in your back pocket Alan is it for your cosmetics ?!"



"No it is not my make-up bag Carol !" I replied in a slightly hurt tone " It keeps my phone dry" I added defensively.

Then as I was nursing my hurt pride after this jibe against my masculinity...KERPOW ! She was off.

Further mental softening up took place at High Gardhams. There was a 75 mile Cyclists Touring Club (CTC) ride on the following day

" Why are you not doing it Alan ?"

"I've told you I'm on nights Carol" then I added unnecessarily " It's not physically possible"

"That's not true is it ?" She said quite correctly " It is physically possible.....isn't it ?" There was a slight air of menace.

"Well yes, if my life depended on it I suppose I could do it......"

As I was mulling over my own inadequacies on the descent of Stoneknowle Hill back into North Newbald .....KERPOW !  ......" Come on Alan ! ". She was off.

" Come On Alan ! "

 Knowing it was coming was one thing. Doing anything about it was quite another.

TRUNDLEGATE

Before we got to Trundlegate, the last hill of the day, Ben said to me

"Looks like Phil is not feeling great today he has been on the back most of the ride "

I felt there was some sandbagging going on.

Sure enough as we started up the steep bit of Trundelgate a blinding flash of pure white came into my peripheral vision.

I looked over and saw the trademark pale exposed flesh of Phil's legs and arms going past.

It was like he was on an electric bike as he cruised by. I even looked for the battery pack under the saddle.

Pretty soon Phil was off in the distance untouchable.

I looked across to Gary and said "I've got nothing I can't go with that".

Phil Cruises By

Chris was also suffering but not physically, mechanically. His bike was playing up with his chain coming off and rear derailleur hitting his spokes.

Chris Blending In Perfectly With The Background !

On the very steepest bit of Trundelgate he had to stop in front of me.

Many times Chris has helped other riders when they have mechanicals.

He has gone back down hills to help and stopped the main group from heading off into the distance.

He has paid his dues many times over. He had a right to expect some help from his colleagues.

But we were on the steepest bit.

I pretended I hadn't noticed and carried on.

Well he was wearing camouflage !

That was a tough slog for me going up Trundlegate with a reasonable head wind and I was glad to get to the top and also glad to see Chris make it with his faulty machinery ( no thanks to me ! ).

At the top of Trundlegate at the junction with Burgate there was something written in chalk on the road. This was in preparation for the upcoming Tour De Yorkshire which would see the professional peloton ride past this very spot.

What did it say? How were the good people of the East Riding of Yorkshire going to welcome legends of the cycling world like Bradley Wiggins, Marcel Kittel and Tommy Voeckler?

" GIZ A CROGGY "

I have to confess I had no idea what a " croggy " was. Maybe this is because I am from Lancashire?

When I came through passport control to get into Yorkshire the citizenship test never included the word "croggy".

Can you imagine the conversation between Marcel Kittel and Brad Wiggins

" Was ist das !? " Giz a Croggy " "

"It means " I would appreciate it if I may ride on the handlebars of your bicycle whilst you pedal old chap " "

" Ah you British always making ze jokes ! "

RUN FOR HOME

 

After Trundlegate I got in a little group with Ian, Carol, Gary and Ben as we approached Little Weighton. Ian was leading. As is usual I let him do it.

Ben Comes By

It's a lot harder in front you know.

Carol dropped back a little bit and then shouted

" I need a wee !! "

Oh for crying out loud Carol couldn't you have gone before we came out ?!

Oh, " I need a wheel ! " that's what she said. I wondered how many more mishearing gags I could put in the blog. Plenty more I think.

Carol Comes By

At the bottom of the dip into Little Weighton there is then a sharp rise that takes you out.

Keep that momentum from the downhill stretch, get it in the right gear and give it the beans!

Annoyingly Ben came past like I was standing still.

Carol also came back and gave it a dig.

Once over the crest there is the run in to Skidby and the traditional sprint past the 30 mph sign.

Ian Comes By

Ian caught up Ben as did I by default because I was behind Ian.

Ian would give it a go past the sign so I courageously let him and followed as close as I could.

This was one of the few occasions when I have been in the very top gear and could not physically turn my legs over any faster.

Also a downhill bit that I actually enjoyed. Wonders never cease.

BACK TO COTTINGHAM AND THEN BARTON

As is usual the group had got rather broken up on the run in for home so we waited at the Olive Gardens for a while for a few more to come in.

Carol tried again to get me to do the CTC ride implying I was a wimp for not doing it.

" You are a wimp ! " Ok she actually said it to my face. I remember now.

But there was no chance I was going to do it. When I am on nights I am like a zombie.

Cycling 7 miles is unthinkable, let alone 75.

So I headed back to Barton at a leisurely pace. The final distance for the day would be 58 miles. Very respectable nothing to be ashamed about there.

It was time to start turning my thoughts to the Tour De Yorkshire sportive. This was going to be a really good milestone for me in preparing for a 100 mile ride.

67 miles in the Yorkshire countryside with 3 monster climbs and numerous other just plain scary climbs.

But right now this weekend that was it.  For me the war was over.

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Google Maps And Gary Maps

 A 40 mile bike ride was not enough. 

This was the conclusion that I came to when looking at the club ride planned for Sunday the 12th of April.

It was a 40 mile trip around the lowlands of Sunk Island to the east of Hull.

I needed to be doing 60 mile rides now according to the plan that I have never written down or articulated at all in this blog.

The ride was going to start from the Swiss Cottage pub in Bilton in the east of the city. The solution to my problem was clear but I wasn't looking forward to it.

If I cycled to the start point for the ride and back again that would add 26 miles to the overall distance which would be perfect.

The Delights of Hull City Centre

However, I did not like cycling through Hull city centre.

The roads were awful, the traffic could be intense and the increased risk of serious injury and death did not appeal.

Particularly the death part.

However, I was going to do it so that was that.

Getting lost was also a concern. The phrase "innate sense of direction " has never really applied to me. I could probably get lost in my own living room. 

Despite being a confirmed Luddite I decided to try using some modern technology.

If I put the journey to Swiss Cottage into Google Maps on my phone and then popped the phone into my pocket it would give me verbal directions as I went. This was really pushing the boundaries for me.

So at 8 am on the Sunday morning I set off from Barton and once over the Humber Bridge I set the phone up to take me to Swiss Cottage in a bossy female tone reminiscent of my ex wife.

On the whole it worked pretty well. Whenever the phone started to talk I would coast and listen to what was said and then take the appropriate action. I never did that for my ex wife though.

Only on a few occasions did I have to stop and take the phone out of my pocket to assess where to go next. I was going to make it to Swiss Cottage no problem and I would be alive which was a bonus.

There was one negative though. I had gone pretty slowly and I had arrived late. The club ride had departed and I would have to catch them up....or try to catch them up.

WAIT FOR MEEEEE !

 

By the time I set off from Swiss Cottage I was about 10 minutes behind them. This left me with a quandary. Just how fast do I go ? How far ahead are they? Will I even be able to catch them up ?

All good questions. My answer was to start pedalling fairly urgently and hope for the best.

So I got stuck into it. Bilton to Preston. No sign of them.

It was fairly disheartening to look up the road and be able to see for some distance and see......nothing. No flash of hi vis in the distance at all.  Unbeknown to me at that time I had just done a PB from Bilton to Preston and my heart rate was in the 170s all the way. So I was really trying.

From Preston to Hedon I started to think negatively. What if I couldn't catch them? Would I carry on and do the route on my own? Like a ride of shame with a big sign over my head saying

" This man could not catch up ! "

Then as I approached Hedon, I thought I saw a glint of fluorescent yellow in the far distance. This was like a shot of pure adrenalin to the system.

Into Hedon I blasted past the left turn of the one way system and went the wrong way down a one way street. I slammed on the anchors and turned round to take the correct turn.

Oh bugger I had lost all my momentum now and had to crank it all up again. Going through Hedon I still hadn't definitively laid eyes on them.
 
I took a left turn onto St Nicholas Gate and I finally saw a line of cyclists in the distance leaving Hedon.

That last mile or so before I finally got on the back of them was excruciating. My final objective was so close and yet I was so tired from the effort to get this far. Finally I crawled my way onto the back and didn't talk to anyone for the next 10 minutes as I just concentrated on recovering.

If I was expecting a great fanfare of welcome on my arrival I was to be disappointed

"Made it then ?" someone said.

THE ROUTE

So now I could actually start thinking about the route we were going to do and enjoying the ride with the club.

From Hedon we were going to continue south to Thorngumbald ( great name ) and then on to Sunk Island itself. Turning northwards the ride would then go to Patrington and Roos before looping round in a westward direction to return to Bilton.

Hills were going to be as rare as hen's teeth on this ride ( hurray ! ) but so was cover against the expected windy conditions ( boo ! )  The landscape whilst flat was very exposed and strong westerly to south westerly winds would be spicing things up.

After Thorngumbald I took some abuse from a motorist for signalling properly and manoeuvring into the road to take a right turn. He adopted the classic "shout something out of the window and accelerate away" method of communication.  Again this brought back fond memories of my ex wife.

Perhaps he was a brain surgeon on his way to a life saving operation and the few seconds he lost waiting for me to turn right meant the difference between life and death ?

More likely he was an arse hole though.

Somewhere between Thorngumbald and Sunk Island we were joined by Ben who had been even later than I was and had caught us up as well. After making this supreme effort I welcomed him in the usual fashion

"So, made it then ?"

We had a stop on the other side of Sunk Island before we got to Patrington Haven where there was a brief hiatus. There was a bit of confusion as to which way we were going. Some of the group seemed to think we should be going left.

The Hiatus At Patrington Haven

"No ! No ! No ! Not that way. We'll just end up at the same spot a bit further on and the roads are no good down there ! "

Gary lives in these parts and rides around these roads all the time so I certainly wasn't going to argue with him. Hell I couldn't even get to Bilton from Barton without instructions from the disembodied voice of my my ex wife. So I was no help at all.

In the world of work I have always found that it hardly matters what you you say so long as you say it with confidence and self belief people will go with you. And so it was with Gary who stated the way to go with such conviction that there was never any doubt which way we were going to go.

It wasn't Google Maps but Gary Maps from now on.

So straight through Patrington Haven it was and then left at Patrington to take us onto the A1033 that would send us towards Roos. This was a fast rolling road and we could get a bit of speed up before we took a right turn off the A1033 to take us to Winestead.

Through Winestead Gary kept the directions coming

"There's a F * * K in the road ! "

Steady on Gary, that's a bit harsh. I'm not used to these roads you know. I'm doing the best I can.

Then it dawned on me.. "There's a FORK in the road"  Ahhh... that's what he said !

Time to put in a claim for noise induced hearing loss maybe ?

There's A Fork Coming Up !

The roads continued to roll to the village of East End and up to Roos and there was some good fast cycling done. A bit of a breakaway group developed between East End and Roos with Ian, Gary and Jason.

I floored it to try and catch them up and didn't make it floundering in no man's land.

Another glorious failure.

The roads were undulating and twisting in this section so good bike handling was necessary if you were going to go fast. Another reason for my failure.

Jason had an interesting technique for going round corners quickly.

He would unclip the foot on the inside of the corner and stick his leg out as if he was getting ready to put his foot down.

I don't know if this was a "just in case I come off " strategy or if it stabilised him going round the corner.

Unfortunately I didn't get a picture of this as I was never in front of him going fast round a corner !

After Roos we had a stop just before the village of North End where I heard Gary say that his nephew had started the ride with us and now he had no idea where he was.

" He's a grown man and he'll have to sort himself out."

Tough love from Uncle Gary there.

As we continued our village hopping we went from North End to Hilston to Garton to Humbleton.

At Humbleton as Gary would be taking his leave soon he gave explicit instructions on how to get back to Bilton and assured us there would be a back wind all the way.

Gary Maps was working fine but Gary the weather app had some glitches in it.

Ben and Jason

As we approached Lelley we encountered a strong head wind and on the other side of Lelley it got even stronger.

Chris came to the front in defiance of the elements and started setting a tough pace to follow.

I got right behind him and was a bit disappointed that I could still feel a powerful wind against me. Chris said something and gestured off to the side.

I didn't catch it so ploughed on.

I later discovered he'd said

" Let's echelon up ! " as the wind was actually a cross wind.

I wish I'd heard that when he said it. No-one has ever said " Let's echelon up ! " to me before. Brilliant.

After a regroupment at the end of Lelley Road we were now on the final stretch back to Bilton and Swiss Cottage.  Knowing I am about to finish normally gives me a bit more energy for a final spurt. That's how my head works.

So I tagged along behind Chris for the run in to Swiss Cottage.  Great club ride.....yet again.

HANG ON THOUGH YOU ARE NOT FINISHED YET

 

But I wasn't finished was I ? I still had 13 miles to go to get back to Barton including running the gauntlet of Hull city centre. It was now just after noon and the traffic was buzzing. Shit.

I contemplated the situation whilst munching on a sandwich. As everyone started to break up and go their separate ways I quickly tagged on to Ian, Chris and June. They had done this run back through Hull on many occasions. At least I wouldn't get lost.

Me And A Sandwich

Getting lost would not be the problem on the way back though.

Keeping up would be.

The head wind back through Hull was extremely strong, the road surface was pants, the traffic was close and I was starting to get tired now.

All of a sudden my giving it everything on the run in to Swiss Cottage did not seem such a good idea.


It really was quite unpleasant on that ride back through Hull. Whilst Ian, Chris and June pedalled on bravely and silently, I had a little tantrum

"This is absolutely f * * king awful ! I f * *king hate it ! "

Chris And A Traffic Cone

Imagine Harry Enfield playing Kevin saying " I am not your slave ! " and you would be there.

Chris and June peeled off to go home and Ian very kindly took me all the way to Hessle Square and then pointed me in the right direction.


Once I was on my own I slowed to near walking pace. There was one last sting in the tale when crossing the Humber Bridge back to Barton. The head wind was astonishing and I nearly got blown off when manoeuvring round the north tower.

Then back home to rack up the last of 68 miles.

After showering and changing I took up my couch potato position and reflected on the ride.

Wow, what a day in the saddle.

It was just amazing that I was preparing for a ride that would be another 32 miles on top of that !

It didn't bare thinking about.

I checked my phone out. The battery was down at 9 %. Strange it started out at 100 % . Maybe it was something to do with the navigation. I opened up Google Maps it seemed to be still running the navigation

" Go to the end of the road and tur...."   I hit the OFF button.  Never did find that button on the ex wife.

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Where Ducks Dare

The Monument on Garton Hill. Picture by Charlie

CLUB RIDE TO SLEDMERE 04-04-15

As I drove over to Cottingham for the Cottingham Road Club ride I just couldn't believe it. It was raining again !

At first driving onto the Humber Bridge the weather was misty, murky and grey but no rain.  Maybe we might just get away with it.

Then a single drop of water appeared on the windscreen, then another, then another.

The wipers activated to clear them off only for them to be replaced by more. Before long the wipers were on steady, working hard to push the water away.

Cossetted inside this South Korean technical marvel was a very disappointed cyclist. Not again ! 

I was pretty fed up of cycling in the rain. It was getting very old and I was running out of ways to describe getting soaking wet through.

Went for ride. Got wet. Repeat.

Remembering some management BS I had once been through I tried to jolly myself up.

" Come on Alan are you an eagle or a duck ?! "

"It's  "Where Eagles Dare" not " Where Ducks Dare" you know!"

"Well it's not exactly eagle weather is it ? " replied my inner duck.

Today's ride was going to be a 55 mile round trip to Sledmere with a planned coffee stop at Sledmere House.  A couple of days before I had done a 50 mile solo ride to the Trent and back. Despite lots of stretching my legs still felt tired and tight. I was going to be a sitting duck.

However, I knew I had to put myself in uncomfortable situations in order to improve. Unfortunately that's how it seems to work in this game.

I had done this ride once before with the club and the highlight (if you can call it that)  was the climb up to the monument at the top of Garton Hill just outside Sledmere.

My plan was to hide in the pack and then give it a go up the hill to the monument.

After that we would have a stop and then I would return to lurking in the group on the way back.

It was a plan any duck would be proud of.

On arrival at the meet point in Cottingham it was tippling down and like lemmings having second thoughts we bunched under the slight protection offered by an estate agents window.

Adam and Charlie arrived late again and then declared 

"C'mon we have to get going you lot "

The other 17 of us thought "Yes we were waiting for you !"

THE ROUTE

 

I THOUGHT YOU WERE BEING A DUCK TODAY ?

It was a relatively routine start to the ride. That is to say we strayed off the official Garmin route within a couple of miles of coming out of Cottingham and at our first stop in Little Weighton Adam was under pressure accounting for people.

 

He kept counting heads, losing count and then starting again.

 

"Alan we started out with 19 right ?"

 

We do try to be like the US Rangers but no plan survives contact with the enemy. Speaking of plans I had one that would soon be in shreds.

 

After Etton, the ride continued northwards and moved onto exposed moorland that was part of the eastern edge of the Yorkshire Wolds.

One disadvantage of having the GoPro on the back of the bike is that to get everyone on the pictures you have to get in front. As we went through a farm complex I put in a bit of a spurt to go past everyone so that I could get some good shots.

There were 2 immediate downsides to this. One, I was working very hard to get up there and two I seemed to have found myself in a bit of a break away group at the front and was now stuck with it.

This was never part of the plan. Even worse as we started to go up a steady rise I was at the front. Oh dear oh dear. Where did this all go wrong ?!

I got myself off the front by missing a left turn and then catching them back up. There was Ian, Charlie, Dave A and then Sam caught us up to make it 5. The Magnifice.....no I've done that.

The country lanes ran more or less due north heading for Kirkburn. We ran through a very muddy section and I got splattered with mud from Charlie's back wheel.

No mudguards on his machine. I felt I had to say something

" Took the mudguards off a bit early Charlie !?"

That was telling him, what a stinger. If he didn't watch it I would bring the big guns out and start tutting.

 SCENE OF THE ACCIDENT

 

The country lane we were on ran up to the A614 at Kirkburn. We stopped at the junction. 

"This is where I had my accident" said Charlie.

What's He Doing ?

He was referring to a famous incident from the annals of CRC history where Charlie had been mowed down by a car pulling a caravan. 

"Is there not a blue plaque around here somewhere then Charlie ?"

He smiled and then appeared to try and recreate the accident by moving out into the main road with traffic uncomfortably close. 

It was a case of deja vu all over again as the concerned faces of my colleagues testify.  

We had a regroupment before moving off, carefully from this junction.

GARTON, THE HILL AND THE MONUMENT

We negotiated the A614 and then turned left onto Station Road that would take us to Garton-On-The-Wolds.
 
This was a 2 mile section with yet another steady gradual climb up to Garton. I tagged onto the back of Ian, Charlie and Dave A.

We weren't far off the climb to the monument now so I didn't want to be expending loads of energy.

So obviously I rolled into Garton at the front with my heart rate in the 180s. What the hell are you playing at ? Where has the real Alan Clough gone?

I cannot possibly keep this going so why are you doing it ? Maybe I needed a quack ?

We had another regroupment in Garton and then pushed off and made our way to the bottom of Garton Hill. At the top was the monument.  According to the plan I was supposed to have been saving myself for this climb.

As we started up I was in a group with Ian, Charlie, Dave A, Steve and Ben. A little bit behind were Sam and Craig.


My heart rate was 170 bpm at the bottom of the incline so I felt I was heading for a blow up it was just a question of when. We started on the incline proper. Ben came past me and Steve started to drop back.

I got behind Ian and concentrated solely on the little gap between my front wheel and his back wheel. That was my universe.

Heart rate at 180 bpm and we had only really just got going. I started to think about engine blow up metaphors for my blog.

"Big end has gone"  or "Blown a gasket" or " sheared a con rod " or what about just "ran out of gas" ?

There were still 5 of us together but you could tell Ben what about to give it the beans. Sure enough he pulled the trigger about half way up and started pulling away from the 4 of us with me at the back.

5 metre gap, 10 metre gap, 15 metre gap.

I looked down at the Garmin. Heart rate was 182 bpm and I was the last duck in the row.

I pulled out and pushed harder on the pedals. I went past Ian, I went past Charlie, I went past Dave. What the hell was I doing ? This was absolute madness.

Was I actually going to try and get up to Ben? Was I serious? Well it seemed that I was. As serious as a heart attack which was almost certainly coming.

 Heart rate went to 183, 184, 185, 186 . I got closer to Ben, then a bit closer , then a bit closer. My God I was going to get on the back of him I don't believe it. I dug deeper than I've ever done before and I clawed my way up to his back wheel.

I stayed with him for a 100 meters or so and then everything started to tie up. My thighs were burning, my lungs were busting my heart was surely going to burst.

I had to back off or I was a dead duck !

Come on Alan put things in perspective you are just trying to get to the top of a hill with Ben. I don't want to come down the other side of this hill in an ambulance.

I had to let him go and backed off the effort. I kept the legs turning all the way to the top and pulled in at the monument after Ben.

I had to be happy with that. My legs were absolutely shot though and we weren't even half way round yet. My plan, such as it was, was in tatters.

If you are a fan of countryside moving by the camera slowly then the whole climb is on the video clip below.

We all gathered at the monument to have a rest and take photos.

Garton Hill Monument - Picture By Ben

Ben was asking about what the monument was all about. Who built it? What did it represent? What was the story behind it?

Well according to my good friend Wikapedia the monument is a memorial to Sir Tatton Sykes (1772-1863) the 4th baronet of Sledmere House who was a benevolent land owner and stock breeder.

The monument was built by his friends and neighbours in 1865 with an inscription that reads

"Erected to the memory of Sir Tatton Sykes by those who loved him as a friend and honoured him as a landlord"

One could only hope for such a testament for when we have passed away.

Those are the answers that Ben should have got to his questions.

What he got was

" the bloke who built that was saying " I've got a big d * * k ! " ".

TV historian Dan Snow, your job is safe.

 

SLEDMERE HOUSE COFFEE STOP

Charlie Thinking About Fitting Mudguards

It was another couple of miles into Sledmere and straight away from the complaints coming from my legs I knew I had over done it going up to the monument.

I let everyone go past me before I pushed off from the monument. When I got going there was a large gap and I was buggered if I could close it. Luckily I got up to Simon and hitched a lift behind him into Sledmere. This would not be the last time I would be getting some help from Simon.

At Sledmere House we had our coffee stop. We sat outside and recuperated.

 " Hey Alan" said Charlie " Look at all the mud over you. You are covered in it ! "

On reflection this was a wind-up but in my weakened state I didn't twig.

"Because of you Charlie ! Because of You ! "

Then Sam chipped in " Looks like you've got the mark of a wheel sucker there Alan "

There was a collective sharp intake of breath followed by "ooh !". On reflection, this was a wind-up too.

Sam gave me a cuddle.  "I don't mean it Alan ! "

It was water of a duck's back to me.

Had we been transported back in time to the playground ?

Yes was the answer as Charlie and Adam indulged in a double entendre laden discussion about sausages, salamis, chipolatas and any pork based products they could think of.

Having had enough of this cooked meat japery I thought I'll get some sense out of Ian.

"What's the route like on the way back Ian ? "

" Oh we are nearly there now Alan. It's out of here then a left and a down, up, down, up, down, up and right at yer Wetwang followed by a left, down, up, down, up, down, up and a left followed by a right and then down, up, down, up and then it's over, right, down up, down, up, down, up, left and right, down, up, down, up and down into Cottingham "

Oh no Ian. Not you too.

On reflection that also could have been a wind-up.

DOWN UP DOWN UP DOWN UP DOWN UP....DOWN

We left Sledmere and started the " Down, Up, Down, Up " section of the ride.

This took us through Wetwang where I was tormented by the wonderful smell of fish and chips.

There were also quite a few vintage cars on the road around Wetwang which was pretty cool to see.

It must have been a vintage car rally.

Either that or Jon Pertwee's Doctor Who was out and about chasing Cybermen in Wetwang and surrounding areas.

After Wetwang the route took us on Thorndale Lane towards Huggate where despite my tired legs I conspired to find myself in a group with the usual suspects of Ian, Charlie and Dave A but also Adam and Sam this time.



There was a number of these rolling hills one after another and the guys were pushing on.

"Shall we wait for the group to catch up ?" asked Adam...they went faster.

It Actually Exists

"Are we going to stop then ?" I chipped in........they went faster.


"Did you see that sign Alan?" asked Ian.

"What sign Ian ?"

"The one that said "PAINSLACK"  "

There was no slacking of any pain. Not from where I was sitting.

Much more of this and I would be a lame duck!

Eventually the message got through and we came to a stop at a left turn that would take us to North Dalton.

This is where I witnessed a titanic "beard off" between Sam and Craig.

There was posturing and chin stroking as the two displayed their magnificent plumage.

Good old Steve T in the middle there having recently shaved his beard off probably thinking

"I'm glad I don't have to get involved in all that anymore ! "

Simon's Cabs - "Taxi for Clough"

Through North Dalton and onto Middleton I was a little over zealous chasing after the front group again to such an extent that I had to bum some food off Ben in Middleton and then catch my second lift of the day behind Simon going into Lund.

We had a very pleasant stop in Lund whilst waiting for Sam to fix a puncture, all sat round would you believe it .....a duck pond.

Once underway again we homed in on Etton and I used my last bit of energy on one last dash to the front in order to get some more shots for the GoPro.

That damn camera. It is definitely going on the handlebars next time.

Then we were on the familiar run in back to Cottingham.

Cherry Burton, Bishop Burton, Walkington, Little Weighton, Skidby and home.

I tagged along with Steve S as the group fragmented towards the end with people going their separate ways to get home.

As I pulled in at the Olive Gardens my Garmin burst into a zany tune and displayed the message

"You Have Won ! ".   Yes I have.


That was another stellar ride with the club I thought. 55 miles and boy could I feel it.

I strolled back to the car and started to load everything into the back with tailgate and doors open all over the place. Bike in the back, bottles out. Helmet off, get some trainers on, change of shirt, rub down with a towel. Backwards and forwards flitting round the car getting myself sorted.

I wasn't paying attention and I smacked my head on the tailgate. Ow that hurt !

Should have ducked.


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The Magnificent 4 Ride

When I saw this picture the image that popped up in my head was The Magnificent Seven.

Guys going on a mission.

That appealed to me.


In the movie, gunslingers are hired to face impossible  odds against a gang of desperadoes across the Mexican border.

Each gunslinger has his own story, his own murderous skill and his own weakness.

There are hotheads, gamblers and dreamers. Men who can kill with a gun or a knife. Killers with a mean streak or some who had lost their nerve and fallen on hard times.

Not all of these characters would make it to the end of the movie. Some would fall by the wayside, some would be killed and some would fall in love with a pretty senorita.

Only two would ride into the sunset having defeated the odds.

I know what you are thinking. With just a little bit of stretching this could be a perfect metaphor for a Cottingham Road Club ride. Well maybe a helluva lot of stretching....

THEN THERE WERE 4

 

Left To Right: Phil, Jon & Niloy

Well I say Cottingham Road Club ride but it wasn't quite a CRC ride. The official CRC ride had been the day before on Saturday. A very windy and very wet trip to Immingham and back starting from the Humber bridge. The weather had been appalling.

Phil had been unable to make the Saturday ride and was desperate to get out for a pedal. He had asked for volunteers to go out with him on Sunday. One problem, the weather.

The forecast was for hard unrelenting rain starting at about 11 am.

We had two other takers Niloy and Jon.

I always feel more prepared for any eventuality whenever Niloy is on the ride.

• Inner tubes - check
• Tyre levers -check
• Multi-tool - check
• Mobile phone - check
• Orthopaedic consultant - check

Jon had just happened on our little gathering and was wavering about coming with us because of the poor weather forecast. He said he would come with us for a short distance and then maybe peel off. He would be welcome for as long as he wanted to stay with us.

In truth he would be going too fast for us anyway.

Jon's bike was awesome looking. A Giant Propel. The front brakes were tucked in on the back of the forks.

"More aero" said Jon. Wow what a gunslinger's bike this was. He definitely thought he was a few km/h quicker just because of the bike.

"Surely the rider's got something to do with it ? " I said paraphrasing a famous Texan.

I thought I could do with losing a couple more stone before aero brakes became a factor for me.

Phil rolled up in shorts proclaiming it was the first day of spring. I applauded the bravery and marvelled at the whiteness of the flesh that was on display. A total absence of any colour whatsoever. Nothing.

Anticipating a deluge I was sporting my big red Altura rain jacket. If it didn't rain I was going to get very hot and sweaty for no reason. I needn't have worried, it was going to rain alright.

Whilst it wasn't an official club ride we were all CRC members so that made it an unofficial CRC ride. So we were kinda like outlaws ! This metaphor just might work.

Are we ready guys ? Let's ride !.......Phil get off the phone ....Let's ride !

THEN THERE WERE 3

 

Jon belted off up the hill out of Cottingham and past the School. I didn't follow him. I wasn't going to make the mistake of trying to hang onto the back of Jon.  If it wasn't for those aero brakes on his bike I could take him though.

One Gunslinger Down

We regrouped at the top of Skidby Mill Hill and went onto Skidby and then up the climb leading to Little Weighton. 

In Little Weighton Jon decided that he'd rather not get involved in a gunfight with the weather today and that he would keep his powder literally and metaphorically dry. 

So after only a few miles Jon went solo down Rowley Road and left us to continue on to High Hunsley.

THE ROUTE

As if the day wasn't going to be hard enough Phil had devised a route which was a hill fest. As well as the hill up to Little Weighton ( which counts as a hill ! ) there was going to be the B1230 climb up to High Hunsley, the Elloughton Dale climb and the climb out of South Cave up Beverley Road.

In addition there was an option to do the evil Spout Hill in Brantingham but the weather would be intervening on that one.

From Little Weighton we headed up to High Hunsley, down Burgate and into North Newbald.

On the way the chatter wasn't exactly "tough guy" talk but it was Magnificent nonetheless. A discussion about weight morphed into all the food we like to eat.

" Take-away pizza and chips but the chips have got to have the spicy stuff on"

"Oh yes and cheese generally, all forms of cheese"

"Yes I love pizza too and if you don't have chips with it that's OK you know, that's officially low fat"

"I'm having steak and chips tonight I'm really looking forward to it"

From there the conversation naturally went on to the state of the Polish health service.

"All I'm saying is don't get sick over there, you have to take your own bog roll in when you go into hospital !"

"Really. No shit ?!"

"Exactly!"

THE FIRST SKIRMISHES 

 

From North Newbald we made our way over to Hotham and came up Pitbalk Hill. So far there had been little trouble apart from Niloy's chain had come off and we were starting to get a little dampness on the roads.

We turned onto the B1230 to take us back up to High Hunsley.

This is a 2 mile climb that averages 3 % but is made up of a steep section at the start in the region of 10 % and then a long drag up that seemingly goes on and on and on.

We made our way up and as expected it was a good lung buster and also a heart buster as my heart rate was in the 180s on the steep bit.

The significant thing about this hill was that at the bottom it wasn't raining. When we got to the top it was tippling down. It was game on with the weather now.

By the time we got to Riplingham Mother Nature had moved up another gear. The rain was bucketing and mucky brown puddles of water were starting to leak out from the adjacent fields onto the roads.

Added to that a fairly strong head wind was blowing up to ratchet up the discomfort levels.

As we headed for Kidd Lane on the outskirts of Welton everything just got ...worse. More rain, more wind, more standing water....just more.

At Riplingham I would say we were still in the novelty phase of getting soaking wet.

We were a band of brothers, sorry make that desperate mercenaries, taking on the wind and rain and rather enjoying it.

By the time we had reached the bottom of Elloughton Dale I think we had moved onto the " actually I am getting soaked right through and starting to feel cold and miserable " phase

As we climbed Elloughton the water was now starting to form streams coming down the side of the road. The first one was interesting to see. As the ride progressed it started to get very old.

Phil's legs were starting to take on a gelatinous quality now like the water was being absorbed into his skin maybe into his very soul. Ok maybe not his soul then.

We had a little rest at the top of Elloughton and then made our way over to the top of Brantingham Dale so that we could head down into South Cave.

 THEN THERE WERE TWO.

 

Another Gunslinger Down

At the top of Brantingham, Niloy had to leave us. He and his wife were entertaining guests and he needed to get back.

I totally understood. The gunslingers life is not for everyone.  Saving innocent villagers from gangs of murderous bandits doesn't leave much time for a family life.

He had come out in the most appalling weather and done himself proud in the fight so far.

Farewell amigo !

AMBUSH AT CAVE ROAD JUNCTION

 

Phil and I carried on towards the last climb of the day which was Beverley Road coming out of South Cave. To get there we had to go down Brantingham Dale. The conditions were really poor with streams of water going downhill and muck and debris strewn across the road.

There then followed probably the most cowardly descent of Brantingham Dale ever. But you know what they say? The graveyard is full of dead heroes. ( Imagine sound of chewing tobacco hitting spittoon ! )

The Graveyard is Full of Dead Heroes

We decided from a self preservation perspective that Spout Hill was not on that day so we continued towards the junction with Cave Road.

I pulled up at the junction just a little ahead of Phil completely oblivious to the peril I was now in. There was a very large puddle at the junction covering a lot of the main road itself. A car was coming down the main road heading right to left.

The car flashed through the puddle and threw an awful lot of water over me. It was like the ice bucket challenge except there was no ice and there was no bucket.

" I'm hit partner ! I'm hit ! "

I had missed the actual moment on my GoPro as it was mounted on the back of the bike.

I tried to persuade Phil that we could recreate it if he just went up to the junction and waited for the next vehicle. Strangely he wasn't too keen on that idea !

Anyhow it was just a flesh wound and I was able to carry on. The little video clip below may give you a flavour of the moment.

THE LAST STAND 

 

From the scene of the ambush we made our way into South Cave and then took a right onto Beverley Road and the final climb of the day.

The streams of water running down the road had now developed into small rivers. These combined with some of the pot holes to produce rapids.

The climb was no longer the worst thing about what was happening.

We had now progressed onto the " we need to get out of this weather or medically there are going to be problems " phase of the ride.

All I wanted to do was get up that hill so I could go down the other side and finish. I wish I could bottle whatever it was that was driving me up that hill because I knocked 30 seconds off my PB and that was with rapids in the way!

Once we crested the hill it was downhill all the way to Raywell and then the welcome site of Eppleworth Road back into Cottingham.

All the while the rain was still coming down with a vengeance. I was so wet and soaked there is no adjective that adequately describes it. I couldn't really move my hands towards the end and Phil said he had lost contact with his feet some time ago.

We arrived back at the Olive Gardens in Cottingham to finish our battle with the elements.

We had lost some of our compardres along the way but we had put in a pretty special ride and had not been beaten by the conditions.

We shook hands before going our separate ways a fitting recognition of what we had been through together.

At last now I can stop this tortuous metaphor with the Magnificent Seven.

I just hope Phil realises that I'm Steve McQueen and he's the baldy guy !

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