That was just so good.
Mrs. Wow and I caught 8.48 from Prittlewell and it wasn't long before we were all assembled at Wickford. We started but had a brief interruption because the Clarion / Butterfly tandem had a front mudguard that resembled a helter-skelter, so it was not surprising it was rubbing. After a mile we stopped so that fettling could take place, and it was a success.
It was hilly. OK, it was Essex hilly but the road still went up and down and as ride leader I quite often found myself leading from the back. It's great to have someone in the ride as knowledgeable as Del - I think he knows Essex even better than I do - so he did tail-end Charlie duties when necessary and at other times sprinted to the front to ensure that we went the right way.
After about 17 miles of this undulation, we arrived at the Round Bush. Teas all round and a variety of food was consumed. Teethgrinder opted for the megabig gutbusting hi-cal super-breakfast and although he ordered first, he seemed to be served last. Several of us offered to help him clear his plate, but only Jane was foolhardy enough to pinch a chip. She wisely counted her fingers afterwards just in case TG had eaten one of them.
After 11ses, the only hill was at St. Lawrence, and we all rode to the top. The consensus seemed to be that it is worth a chevron, even though Ordnance Survey confiscated one when 1:63360 was replaced by 1:50000. The view across the Blackwater Estuary is very fine from there. We were a little behind schedule so we went to the pub before we went to church. The landlord was as good as his word and fifteen of us were fed and watered in pretty good time, our numbers having been swollen by the arrival of Regulator.
We had a good look round St. Cedd's church (NSTN commented how she particularly enjoyed riding on the surface of the footpath) and then headed for the marshes. In spite of the fact that we were scarcely above sea level, the view is very good. We could see the wind turbines off Whitstable, the power station chimney in Kent, the Shoeburyness gas holder, some top secret thingummies across the Crouch estuary on Foulness Island and loads of office blocks in Southend.
It was at about this point that the wind became noticeably againsterly and Jan & I struggled to keep up. After some 4 miles slogging we could see the 1639 train approaching from Southminster and knew that we would miss it, but that was all to the good: it gave the faster cyclists the opportunity to make their escape whereas a few of us finished the ride in the pub on the sea wall, catching the train an hour later.
Now replete with fish and chips, and clean from a shower heated entirely by the sun's rays, I reckon that was one of the landmark rides of 2009: the day winter lost its grip.
