I had arranged to meet Jane in Wickford, off the 9.34 from Lpoo St. The problem for me was that there were no trains from Southend today, so I had an extra 11 miles each way on top of whatever it was we rode.
The machine on the roof told me that the temperature was 2°C when I left home just after 8 am. There was clearly some ground frost and car frost, which became more obvious the further inland that I went. Once I was on the cyclepath beside the A127, and outside the Southend borough, there were proper icy patches. When I reached the right turn to Dawes Heath Road I greeted two mountain cyclists who had just picked themselves up off the floor. I dismounted, almost fell over and walked for about a quarter of a mile until I deemed that it was safe to cycle again. There were no further ice related incidents before Wickford.
As I was riding along the A129 in the Rawreth area a shadow of a cyclist caught up with me.
"Good morning!" said I, without looking round.
"Good morning!" replied a voice that I recognised but couldn't put a name to. The cyclist pulled alongside me and I recognised his face as well, but still couldn't think of an appropriate name. All I knew was that he was part of the SEG (SE Group of the Essex CTC) who meet every Sunday in Wickford. He told me that today they were riding to elevenses at Mundon (the Round Bush, where Jane risked life and limb on one occasion when she nicked one of Teethgrinder's chips) before retiring to lunch at the Nag's Head, Ramsden Heath, where Del and I wandered round with our shoes off after an intimate encounter with the River Wid. Eftsoons his conversation dropt he and sped off into Wickford. I was not that far behind him and arrived in plenty of time to buy coffee before Jane's train arrived.
Jane arrived to time and almost escaped me as I had nipped into the station to use the loo and she was outside when I returned. We set off up Brock Hill, taking care not to get involved with any icy patches, when the SEG went past me but couldn't catch Jane. They convened at the top, we turned right into South Hanningfield Road, descended towards the Rettendon Bell and then Jane had that sinking feeling as the air inside her front tyre made a thoroughly successful bit for freedom. We were just getting to the interesting bit when who should arrive from the east but a Wise Man in the form of Delthebike. We found the flint and discarded it somewhere in the grass. I reminded Jane that Jurek collected those and she should have kept it for him. After a while all was whole again and Jane and I climbed the hill towards East Hanningfield and Del went in search of the SEG.
It was all sweet and uneventful for quite some time as we enjoyed the beautiful sunshine and graunched our way up the hill towards Danbury, an ascent made somewhat harder for me because I could feel that the gear-changing thin gummy of my Rohloff hub had become sluggish due to frayed cables. This happened once before, about 10000 miles ago, and I fixed it. It clearly needs doing again. A group of cyclists was assembled at Eves Corner and I enquired of them the state of North Hill. "Not too bad," came the reply, "but it's a bit icy the other side of the canal." Armed with this knowledge I was not unduly cautious on the descent, notching up a moderate 33 mph. There was good coffee and incomparable flapjack when we arrived at Paper Mill Lock, the water of which was not as high as I have seen it in the past.
Off we went again, with the sun still shining, towards Terling. Just as we were heading for
this bend Jane once again had that sinking feeling. However, as we approached there was a Discussion going on. A man in a car was talking to another man and it seemed that the subject of their discussion was whether or not the second man and his two young daughters, whom I estimated were both considerably less than 7 years old, should be allowed to ride their petrol-driven quad bikes on the concrete area, quite a bit of which was being used to store sugar beet. Once the discussion was over the man and his daughters drove their quad bikes along the road and disappeared.
Meanwhile, Jane was Jureking again. We found the hole in the tube, I almost lacerated my finger tip when I found the flint that was poking through the outer, and we set to with Jane's new Lezyne pump, which in my view is a triumph of style over functionality. I had been pumping steadily for a minute or two when Jane reached down and gave an experimental squeeze to the turgid tube that was the object of our mutual desire. "Oh, that feels good!"* exclaimed Jane, clearly satisfied with the tumescence that I had achieved. Imagine our frustration when, on reaching a 100psi climax, the entire valve inner shot out and released the pent-up contents of the tyre with a loud deflationary hiss. I found the pliers on my Swiss army knife, returned Jane's device to its proper place, and finished the job with my Topeak Road Morph.
Off we went again, but now the sun was disappearing behind clouds that, to be fair, had been forecast. We thought about the Pig an Whistle but carried on into Writtle where the Rose and Crown was still serving. I opted for chicken fajitas and a pint of Adnams (only my third pint of 2014) whereas Jane had mussels and blackcurrant cordial. We decided that as we were becoming a little short of time and Jane was off out for a meal in the evening, we would make for Shenfield station instead of Wickford and Jane caught a train just after 4pm. I toyed for a nanosecond with riding home from Shenfield, but since I had already done over 50 miles and that would add another 22 or so, I too caught a train which terminated at Wickford and I rode home from there through increasingly irritating drizzle.
I was just climbing the short, none-too-steep ascent up form Priory Park when a pedestrian accosted me testily.
"If you are going to ride on the pavement at least turn your light out!"
Many thanks to Jane for a lovely day out. When my belly reduction campaign has had a little more success I might average a bit more than 9mph. My total for the day: 63.14 miles.
*Yes, she really did say that. My innuendometer went off the scale.
