Yet Another Cycling Forum
General Category => Rides and Touring => Topic started by: rogerzilla on 09 May, 2022, 06:07:24 pm
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I can't do it as I come back from holiday that Saturday (burglars beware: my advanced taekwondo offspring is minding the house and cats) - Only posting to say:
- Southwark Cyclists ARE running coaches, for the first time since 2019.
- Milltag are again selling commemorative jerseys for £80 (snort), some proceeds to charidee. On the AG2R scale of kit nastiness, it scores an impressive five flaming turds https://milltag.cc/products/dunwich-dynamo-2022-jersey
Btw, Milltag, it is not and has never been 200km :facepalm: 181 max.
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You can make it 200km if you get lost a couple of times though ;)
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Mods! ;)
https://yacf.co.uk/forum/index.php?topic=119693.0
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You can make it 200km if you get lost a couple of times though ;)
'Zactly.
If you've done more than 112 miles, you've gone astray.
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Unless you ride on to Ipswich to get a train back to London Village.
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Is anyone actually considering doing this? I know it's not the ride it used to be, the vast majority of riders (since 2012) are pretty competent cyclists with decent bikes, and the ratio of racers to pootlers has increased a lot.
If I ride, it will be on my leccy bike so anyone who accompanies me won't have to worry so much about glacial speed (I reckon to keep up 12mph moving average now). Unless I have a stoker volunteer who is rated for more than 40 miles. My plan then would be to leave the tandem at My Mate Terry's, in Sibton, and get the train home, and drive up the following week to pick it up.
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I have considered it for a couple of years, alas not this year. MrsED will be on her hols with number one daughter, so I shall be at home in the background in case of issues with number one son
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I was mumbling to myself about getting the gang back together, but it's way too far and involves sitting on a train for way too long.
I might resurrect the Dumb Run or Aberdeen Assault next year, though.
Sam
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... perhaps next year as it will be 20 years since the Cycling+ Dun Run outing ... my legs still ache!
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Unless you ride on to Ipswich to get a train back to London Village.
Figure out the route to Ipswich station and store it in the GPS or old fashioned memory!
Only time I rode the DD we got to Dunwich courtesy of a friends GPS and a few sets of AA recharchable batteries - my edge 305 was left at home due to lack of range. It would have been fine for the final drag to Ipswich though!
We then had to ask around for anyone riding to Ipswich to tag along with and match their pace (too fast at first then they spent much too long recovering at Snape maltings and a few other stops).
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... perhaps next year as it will be 20 years since the Cycling+ Dun Run outing ... my legs still ache!
OK, a 20th anniversary might be tempting. It depends on whether I can get hold of any strawberry bootlaces.
Sam
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... perhaps next year as it will be 20 years since the Cycling+ Dun Run outing ... my legs still ache!
OK, a 20th anniversary might be tempting. It depends on whether I can get hold of any strawberry bootlaces.
Sam
I'm trying to remember the cast . . . me, my pal Steve, yourself, the Pikes, Chuffy, Baggy, Charlotte, Nutty . . . there were more . . . (and I have some pix somewhere taken at the start)
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Was that the one year I rode? Ex-MrsLWaB and I were the only one on Bromptons that year.
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2005 was the one where Charlotte hired a van. I think that was the last big forum participation. I'm flying back from holiday on that Saturday, or I'd be there this year. 2019 was a good easy run on fixed. Wouldn't do it on gears again.
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2006 was my last year, I think? That was the year I moved back up north, and I remember travelling down for it. Did it on fixed. That was the year of the strawberry bootlaces. I flirted outrageously on the bus with Macleach (whom I miss -- what happened to him?).
(https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/rmTZSUBNoSTmg6EC8Kq8_qrP9uRzi0YWO3uGouVOKq6ZQHOgMMXLwSemrjidGARw5PPSYCaEbOfHwRqWhh4wsR1-gLdwinK223jfQMk4Mp2anRjuRa8IQ6IMkQOAsi7Mwu5RUFnbwASjOy7jfbGc03XDIV2R5GAP0X_5QeYJXi1EJTdSd2HDQmq1Qw3QLXAIL98OUVYq6Kmt7_hIBhukAP939E1zfpOBbj9rMxf_kqHsQWXtaHltNQ0WlPDARvQDTfbFHm7OctXWHxl7p6duVscN7HHTEI8DI95hy7YC4Ng5b6ZqfMgM5N2oO87Z489XopyoZKWsitXkfV3SxpDEygeVuX3eDuG5cDezzEyq4CHvjeewtADPFHPM3n5a4C5kIPZoVzdClCBOTW_iHeifbOTQcCTLQjmiZ3iz1Ivv8ojJKN6p-53IOZkL1nGJCG_uSdePuChHuoIqIFMoFkPptiIgz7yhhFOJ2VRTo7D4x40pT28xJqcYo_LW-nbw44t6XOkeh2MJAtEjM6LWZMismIPBlVGhepb6wBZVB3qg1DkVr4VqCceOnbdbJgQ6xrqsYm02T0UOr5L2b_EajV7dZCFhRj2cafjSrYHADacryupVLLR_3PYDsYO5rJ_k7ISaO81vfK-9GF4eQPaDPRc07pnhFpgiB_EKd9SuzTmfGx41a_Do0UHuYLu1AvRASAzwFHlDRMpiO7iWtvujKbQMRJOzjHX-J9ykok0HWvw0G6dnvff57hXxOeIBd8e8tV8=w604-h402-no?authuser=0)
(https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/Kz2rMyXC_gormVcGCg_nHBQBoyJ6PLbUFfWMm5GU3YxQv9uhS2C2NRWLcNt4DX2qh4irSD5hpipI4uvOOsVWUS0OlW3rCaLr18OZ9nfe0bbxyn7Agx863KJVzE0kMjUq1pqyyUfpEV_A5vgq0r1TFDBUc9RwouRg4ngdezHZMFE6rO1ftEeE_tkNKZkO_F8gLg2elOdWeuCgDs1S5FqOkEw_FTwqTejXBx3BI4TWkC20mBumzsODHwPdT9p5DYHBDopteoZSlJOADO7eqSfNUuRIgJPB15-wrtabxFK6Yrx7aRKA89S6KgHfVwXMSgoko00cXrumZfo9V_UWHmQ3ex0Sb98c19f0Lrpfd6qHSeA6ztcsupavhIE7D8I_PoaNNHL_JNMWGsqkjhzEJIAnr61nfj3h2tOH964pMm17oJV2CanBVEuI-By8KWxA1hhw4nPrXbO4UAfJbYhwamCIe0yt6wa5_NOHJyj5ln6m6Q6yeEtUPVowCNejf937NzbF4ULPXNCRatAbPe5508pbpojGJEPoOq_I6tSUBK03rZmpmoszXNxnsHMOeJ-FCbqTSFgOFWz-NAC-XtHnyX5u1xNPn0vb5GKW46mmzH9ZO3Rvy39Fubwr1KgL4sLzNz7f4v-QiNbPTW7oEblXxmbgyCMWUOnG_JOWlCSzPRT73n0BIU9r6htDrS23aX1Gc2kXyLw6t_YtwvbSJBWqwIhm80bLvvFye5iEY6msZRnMZFF9l3lvLDZSIxbAo_QbH78=w488-h604-no?authuser=0)
But 2005 was the C+ jersey handover.
(https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/oF9J8wTBP-tWHDRkj6mgAQIK2z1yea2R5poC1K2VHj_UIumfIsmuPADkTPrwUy5pj6cQtTRSwnSR6RFej2wKElUurRBAtFUk5UYWVv2oXPIsimrxVtI0i9IbRVvxycfuBih4xNxPDgLaGh8IaUFi1yeOd1gPOLrTI2ELfDuNWXgTWj6NwpZVUXpGdOHPmmPTUbeV6HcUxN02-j6ntQN-_HcC5IkR4VKUnEysrtWbZt0lnG_8pkYJluf08Y7JK-c771E-BmfcaNdnYqMNObhrPCw4Wee_oPadXuzxQGNjq-Hdzw8ds4m84zpsxMs0W5AAWw0fGWtmOkKXFMEtl2F4h_J2MbwaW7aiK9VnAEFT2oYNEIIflOmK19tKNz92-kRK08f-mg58PwI91NpNNwqph_GY2TrlKUdZwZWlWY6HQ6qkzv_Z8vo7SW4hiqFDyxzS36I0pcVFNAew07HaBxMXO2Fm-P1KmPNdsVld-0OYOVOve96f7fAqqSc5pauaU0rifSbvW5ApxZ4231EzAbmr3kZONZwGvmSn5iS0OzSbzPWxJPGEvLiPWKnrqlLcx00C7AG0KlwGNIKVEYcdLBoP1cjjSSGSXov7gTiShLge5rihr9Z024glKB2uRa0b224D-30MaHbq2cWSXMuU1NDfBJIrOFhCBtCA5LdZ1CkO55FBjF7kt-QG2Pk3xZA8NJadkK88CIWraWycsIweu9rBMhZsRjuDy0zwNq-gYZ91v3Hu2nW54mcZy51XdEe5-i8=w453-h604-no?authuser=0)
Sam (these might be your photos, Roger)
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Was that the one year I rode? Ex-MrsLWaB and I were the only one on Bromptons that year.
It was - we passed you in the car as we wended our way across the heathlands on our way home.
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This is Chuffy's write up from the 2003 edition (and I'm sure that the C+ jersey handover was 2003) - slow day here so I'll look through my pictures.
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Dunwich Ho! A Gentleman Remembers…
Ah, pretty young things, pull up a hookah and let your dear old Uncle Chuffy tell you a tale. It was in the Summer of 02, or was it 04? I forget. Claret can do terrible things to a chap, especially ‘Whiffy’ Hogfoot. Poor beggar drowned in a barrel of the stuff. Mind you, we did lower him in head-first to search for ‘Bingo’ Moore’s monocle. But I digress…
In an attempt to restore Vim and Vigour to the veins of British Youth, we of the League gathered in the district known to the untutored locals as ‘Ackney’. They were amazed to see so many fine and upstanding specimens of Homo-Velocipidii and the related sub-species Homo-Recumbentii gathering in the grounds of the Tavern on the Park and Made Comment. Experts from Oxford, Cambridge and Thames are currently attempting to decipher their cries of ‘owfar?’ and ‘izzitfercharridee?’.
Having negotiated the hellish streets of the capital, it was in a state of no little mental distress that I arrived and was obliged, on the orders of a notable Physician, to down a brace of pints in as quick a time as possible and also to work up a manly sweat in the company of La Belle Dame Pike. In order to achieve this degree of healthful perspiration we duelled with sticks. Anything else would have been Sordid and Unspeakable (but jolly good fun, what?). Honour satisfied I sat me down and was delighted to renew my acquaintance with many of my fellow Gentleman Cyclists, viz:- Master Gates, the Noble Timli, dear old Nutters, Evil-Kiwi, Robgul the Tall, Sir Stephen the not-on-the-Forum, Fixedwheelnut (at whose mighty calves we do worship), Mr Bag, that German breakfast chappie, dear potty old Strutters and of course, that demented Loon, Naggers…Fortunately there were also many Ladies present to dilute the raw testosterone emanating from the Gentlemen’s muscular physiques. I was delighted to pleasure my eyes by gazing upon (not in order of Beauty) Mistress Ravenbait, Mrs Pike, the Delightful Miss Charlotte and her Extraordinary Chariot (with concealed bananananananananananna compartment) and, of course, the graceful and swan-like Madam Baggy.
Around the park we swooped and twittered, like bewildered swallows, until by some act of Mass Impulsion we headed for the Blue Bridge and began our escape from the diabolical clutches of Dame London. Any thoughts of League sodality flew rapidly out of the window, but not as fast as Ms Sam, Mad Naggers and the sundry others who vanished into the gloaming at a rate of knots.
I feared not. I merely tossed my head, uttered a manly ‘Eek!’ and ripped onwards at a breath-taking 15mph. Thus was the pattern set for many miles. I, clenching my trusty churchwarden between my teeth as I pedalled sturdily onwards, they thrusting ever on at a pace that seemed both Continental and unnecessary. It was at this point that I realised that I had made my customary mistake with respect to roadside refreshments. As usual I had packed chewy cereal bars with their distressing ability to reduce the most rugged of jaws to quivering jelly. Poor old Nando the houseboy had been left quite at home, with naught but the lads from the YMCA and a pot of Assos chamois cream for company when he should have been at his master’s side in the rickshaw bearing silver tureens of steaming kedgeree, Chicken Jalfrezi, Brown Windsor Soup and a naan bread the size of a table-cloth.
Night falling and the spirits lowering I hauled myself on, mile by painful mile, for some time holding the wheel of a slender chap in blue. Briefly we pedalled side by side, he whippet thin and mounted on a machine constructed from rare elements and the thongs of angels, myself on a sturdy beast of burden made of refined iron and lead. “Do you cycle much?” he asked. Restrained by the Code of the League I managed not to beat him savagely with my pump, but it was a near-run thing…
And so the night wore on. Myself wheezing behind less geographically challenged members and the miles counting upwards oh so slowly…
For some time I found myself with the enviable position of being paced by Master Tim and his lady wife Mrs P. With the daunting thought of over a hundred miles before him a chap has to find solace in whatever comes within his purview. Mrs Pike’s bottom sufficed most amply and I am most grateful to it.
I also found myself admiring Ms Charlotte and her amazing Device of Many Compartments. Despite professing a most unconvincing Fear at the distance to be traversed she proved herself a most worthy member of the Intrepid Sorority and her ability to produce banananananannas from the most unlikely of hiding places reduced this Member of the League to quivering admiration.
…and so onwards.
Pausing briefly at the feeding station for a restoring draught from the trusty hip-flask full of the distilled essence of the blushful South I sallied forth in the Company of Giants. Need I name them? Oh, very well. Ravenbait, Naggers, Fixedwheelnut and…others. I tried, so very hard, to keep up with them or face Certain Doom and wandering the Suffolk countyside forever like the Flying Chuffman of legend…
I managed. Just……..
Wheezing blindly and tapping out eldritch messages in morse on my bottomed out gear levers I staggered onwards into welcoming embrace of Sister Dawn. She welcomed me with the gladsome news that Dunwich was but eight and a half miles away. I rejoiced and sped on, muscles newly envigorated and turquoise cowbell tinkling in my right ear. With one mighty bound I found myself trailing The Company of Giants into DUNWICH! And mighty was the rejoicing.
Having inhaled a bacon butty, a pot of tea, some nuts, a fair portion of Mother Bag’s Fruity Flaps and a Most Refreshing Dip (avec Mrs Pike’s tasteless two piece, dear old Nutty’s flapping baggies and Ms Bag’s deliciously filled one piece) I felt able to Hold Court (while Mrs Pike conducted hexperiments on my person) and bestow Chuffly Wisdom upon the assembled throng. Ok, so I advised a few hover-flies about Careers and Mortgages….
…but all Good Things come to pass and we had to Hurl our noble steeds into a Ghastly Black Hole and sweat upon their safe return. We sweated ourselves and the ensuing conversation…………degenerated. For which I can only apologise to Ms Charlotte and express the wish that she will still desire future contact with both myself and Master Gates…:O
Arrival at Smithfields, the usual depository of many an inanimate carcass, myself and Mistress Ravenbait hurtled forth post-haste (and many apologies to those we ignored in our departure) in order that we might catch our train from Paddington. We prevailed and had long enough at the station for us both to inhale food and for Mistress Sam to lose her prized Rudy Projects. This cast an inevitable downer on the journey home but, Hurrah! We had cycled many miles, had no punctures and had made many new friends (and cemented others).
Glory be to all who succeeded and many apologies to those who I have failed to mention. I will remember meeting you (despite being semi-comatose with Weariness) and will look forward to meeting you all next year (yes, including you, PH, Delgado, Mogden, JokeyJon (very dry, we must see more of you) ).
Sleep tight my lovely darlings,
Chuffy
xx
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At the GWSR steam gala yesterday the LNER B17 restoration fund was inviting bids for an original Helmingham Hall nameplate. Helmingham Hall is, of course, one of the turns on the Dun Run, usually encountered at about 3am. Left turn, then the right turn to Framsden after about a mile, which fully half the riders miss and end up on the A1120.