It is traditional, on the day of our company barbeque, for the cyclists amongst us to head off on a short pootle of something about 30 odd miles beforehand. This works up both an appetite and, more importantly, a thirst.
Here's this year's...
Late onset mechanical problems and uncaring customers meant that we lost some of our number before the ride started so we were down to only three. The weather which had been glorious the day before was gusty, overcast and generally a bit mis. In other words
perfect British Cycling and Barbeque weather.
We headed North out of Cirencester on a gentle climb up the White Way, before bearing right along the Welsh Way to Barnsley. Just before Barnsley we hit our first climb of the ride with a steep drop into and short, steep section out of Smith's Covert. Up to this point we'd been following, in reverse, the route of one our lunchtime bimbles and were surprised at how much easier the climb back into Barnsley was. We left Barnsley (having completely failed to see Liz Hurley, but glad to have missed Dom Joly) heading North again for Coln Rogers and Calcot.
About quarter of mile outside Coln Rogers I spotted a heron flying along the course of the Coln. We kept pace with it for a minute or so until it decided it had found a decent fishing spot. Another short, steep descent. This time to the Coln then we took the sharp left towards Calcot and were faced with the expected climb out of the river valley. What we
weren't expecting was to have to tackle it from a standing start with our gearing all ahoo.
Once we'd got to the top of the hill, which I ground up in 42x25 whilst Mish & DuncanM honked up, it was an easy run to Eastington, enlivened by Mish's attempt to kill Dunc at Trinder's Barn by the simple expedient of braking hard in front of him without warning as we pulled over to let a car past. After Dunc had picked himself up, checked himself and his bike for damage and indicated, remarkably politely given the circumstances, that he was not entirely happy with what had just happened, we continued. All good friends and jolly good company.
The right at Eastington took us South East straight into a strong headwind. The pace slackened and we started taking it in turns to slipstream. The route down into Coln St. Aldwyns is fairly unremarkable, although a skylark sang for us which was rather pleasant and the views continued green and pleasant.
We breezed down into and through Coln St. Aldwyns, waved at the Highland Cattle on our way out of the village and so up (and down) into Quenington where we crossed the Coln for the second and third times. Out of Q. past the old Rectory, where an empty greenhouse was standing in the river as part of a sculpture exhibition, and on to the final "climb" of the day. Another of those very short, but horrible ramps that this part of the Cotswolds seems to do so very well. From there we had a longish gentle drop down to Fairford. The downhill was welcome as the head wind seemed to be getting a good deal stronger.
We took the back road through Fairford, along Mill Lane which is fairly scenic, and completed our fourth and final crossing of the Coln for the day. From Fairford we headed to Down Ampney skirting the pimple that is Marston Hill (and avoiding the A417). Mish, being a violinist, was pleased by the coincidence of hearing the skylark earlier and going through the place where Ralph Vaughn Williams was born. The going was a bit easier thanks to the relatively high hedgerows shielding us from the wind.
From Down Ampney we carried on to Cerney Wick. Crossing the hump-backed bridge over the A419 just before CW I had the unsettling experience of being blown from the left hand kerb to the right hand kerb by a particularly strong gust of wind. However once we were in amongst the tall hedges again it was good deal less fraught. We threaded our way past the old gravel pits which are now used as boating lakes; the halyards/shrouds/ropes/whatever on all the dinghys and yachts kicking a up ferocious rattling din in the wind.
On reaching South Cerney, Mish & Dunc peeled off for Ciren. and the office to change back into civvies and I carried on to the barbeque pitch. My route took me through Shorncote. Shorncote, is, as I discovered, remarkable. It has the most appalling road surface it has been my misfortune to encounter for years and years and years. Lots and lots of deep and wide potholes connected by rivers of gravel and short, wandering strips of tarmacadam. Having survived a couple of iffy moments on the gravel the last quarter of a mile or so of the trip passed quite uneventfully and was successfully brought to a close with bits of char-grilled meadow kitten, piglet and chicken in bread washed down with fizzy pop.
The rain, which had been a threat throughout the trip, held off. Huzzay!
Route here:
Bicycle Path - iSC BBQ Route 2009 at Bikely.com
