Riding in the Evening

Here in Bishops Castle, we have a friendly, all-comers cycling group called the Castle Cyclists.   Yesterday my cycling and knitting friend Chris organised an evening ride on behalf of the group, and as she’s such a popular lady, there was a terrific turnout.  The weather hadn’t looked promising, with rain all day, and some of it torrential.  But the forecast had said it would clear and so it did.  It left behind a stormy purple sky and a wind to assist us homeward.

We set off at a moderate pace, some of our number being new to riding in a group.  We diverted along a balcony road which is a favourite of mine and were well rewarded for our climb - beneath the stormy sky the air was clear and the views were crisp and lit beautifully by the evening light. 

There is a very friendly fish and chip shop next to our destination pub, the Sun Inn, Leintwardine, so friendly in fact that they take your order in the shop and then bring it into the pub for you.  So our fish and chip supper was taken with good beer and accompanied by excellent conversation.

We took a very pretty lane out of Leintwardine, called Jay Lane.  The lane crosses a river in an exquisitely pretty spot but once over the bridge we found ourselves riding through mud, washed onto the road from the fields in what had clearly been a recent flood. I rode from then on with so much mud between my mudguard and wheel that little scraping noises accompanied me all the way home.  But I felt good, so much so that I’m not in the group photo - in a departure from my usual cycling behaviour, I’d ridden off the front of the group!

So good did I feel, that I tackled an extra and quite unnecessary hill before the end of the ride.  Finally, following a scary descent in the rapidly fading light, I tackled another half pint of excellent beer in my local pub, the Six Bells. 

The evening light throughout this ride was so sweet that I am reminded that in the beautiful countryside we live amongst, all times of the day have something to offer to a bike ride.  Midsummer’s gifts are especially benevolent, but winter has its charms too.  Whatever life throws at me, the natural world offers salvation, and at all times of the day and in all seasons, it is there for me.  All I need to do is to go out and soak it in.

What does this say about us?

Shropshire Highlands Challenge

Sometimes the best things happen unexpectedly and without planning.  For me, riding the Shropshire Highlands Cycling Challenge turned out to be one of my best rides this year, and yet I only found out I’d be riding it the afternoon previously. 

I hadn’t entered, but my husband had.  I’d planned to allow him a day of hard-riding fun with his friends, and he planned to ride to and from Ludlow (the start point) at either side of the event to make the ride even longer and harder.  But a chance phone call made him change his mind and he asked me to come along on the tandem.  I looked at the map, and decided that this was my chance to ride those pesky little roads which I dare not ride on my own.  Pesky little hilly roads, that is. 

So we drove to Ludlow, arriving in good time to meet up with his friends.  We set off at a cracking pace in a fast group, and we rode furiously to the first checkpoint at Knighton, with only the climb through the Mortimer Forest to slow us.  As we drank tea and ate cake in the Community Centre, the rain came down in buckets outside.  But as we stepped out to continue our ride, the rain stopped, and our waterproofs were off almost before we put them on. 

The climb between Knighton and Newcastle was one I had looked at on the map with a mixture of fear and excitement.  It was tough, but not as tough as I’d anticipated, and it led us to extensive views over lonely valleys and isolated farmsteads.  A well chosen turn took us around the head of a steep valley with long views down the valley, where the more direct road dipped and climbed.  We skirted the ridge before dropping into Newcastle for lunch, the rain once again starting the minute we stepped inside.

Mainstone Valley

Again we were lucky, with no need of our waterproofs as we set off on the third leg.  Very quickly we tackled the next savage climb which was quite a test so soon after eating.  It led to an undulating ridge road, through wild hills to the west of where we live in Bishops Castle.  Described in our route sheet as “The Top of the World”, it was easy to see why Two Crosses earned that name.  From there, the views were far, the clouds having passed, and Corndon and the Long Mynd were clear to see.

Dropping into Mainstone and its pretty valley, Paul and I eased off, letting the fast-boys ride away from us.  We both had twinges in our various battle-scars and the short sharp climb into Cefn Einion seemed to hurt just a little too much.  But this meant we were on our own as we descended Blakeridge Hill, and it was just as well, as we topped 70kph.  Tandems go quickly downhill and overtaking at speed on narrow lanes can be dangerous.

Boots for Sale!

Passing within a mile of our home felt strange but we pedalled on, overhauling one by one some of the tired cyclists spat out of the fast group.  We covered the relatively flat roads to the final checkpoint at Aston on Clun quickly once we turned to ride with a following wind.  Once again we regrouped with our friends, two of whom were delayed by an unexpected deviation, and once again we watched the rain peter out just before we ventured out. 

The last leg began with the kind of gentle descent which tandems handle superbly.  We rode in a tight bunch with another tandem and two solos and it was simply magical, all the more so for me as it was so far away from my usual style of rather slow riding.  

When we finished, there was a finishing medal for Paul but not for me, because I hadn’t entered. But Paul gave me his to me.  I felt I fully deserved it, but then so did he, for enabling me to have this experience.  To ride with other people is a treat for me, normally my skills only equip me to ride alone toward the back of the field.  

Nevertheless I felt like a criminal for not entering as the organisers had done a fabulous job and I had benefitted from this without paying.  So I shall make up for it in future years, possibly by entering and then bottling out and not riding!

The Kerry Ridgeway from Edenhope Hill

New Friends

Waiting to cross at the high tide

You know how it is when your paths keep crossing with an old acquaintance - not frequently, but over a long period of time, and often enough for you to end up being friends.  Well my husband has some friends like that, and since moving to Shropshire we have seen more of them and we're likely to bump into them more regularly through our local CTC group.  Through them, somehow, we found ourselves invited to spend a weekend in a Caernarfon Hostel with a mixed group of cyclists, walkers, and bird watchers on a collective event known only as “Mad Tony’s Bash”.  I only found out we were going a few days before we went, so it was all a bit of a shock for me!

I’m fairly nervous of meeting new people, but in this case, my nerves were ill founded.  For a start, there were a smattering of familiar faces amongst the group - more of those path-crossing acquaintances again.  The rest of the group were friendly to a fault, particularly Tony the organiser, one of life’s gems who gets on and does what others only think about, although he doesn’t always do what he does in a very organised way!

Old Acquaintances

We were in Caernarfon during the weekend of the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee, and the weather was legendary.  Fortunately our riding plans were more flexible than the Jubilee celebrations so Paul and I decided to catch up on some clothes shopping on the very wet Sunday (we live in the sticks, so opportunities are limited).  We rode our tandem on the Saturday and the Monday, being speechless with wonder at the beauty we saw both times.

I feel as though we are heading for the wettest June ever, to add to the wettest April ever.  Perhaps even the wettest year?  But the intensity of the green in the hills and valleys can seem so overpowering that I continue to feel privileged to live on this island, even if it is wet sometimes.  

My other half holds the other half of our tandem