Club Ride Saturday 24th May 2014

Excluding Howard, who had previously ruled himself out on the advice of his GP and so was only present in an official capacity, just three Clarions came to ride.  It might only have been spitting, but much heavier rain was forecast for later. As this thought weighed heavily on our minds, one of the trio took the sensible option and decided to return home.  George and I probably should have done the same, but my sense of adventure wouldn’t let me.  I made a feeble case for having a crack at Howard’s course based on the grounds that we were dressed for a ride and so we might as well go for one.  George said that he wasn’t bothered either way, which I chose to interpret as meaning that he’d really like to go to Wickwar.

With the motion carried unanimously, we headed for the Wickwar Coffee Shop.  When we first joined MCCC during September 2013, Howard told us that there might be occasions when there’d be no other riders and we’d be the official club ride. It had taken a while, but that day had finally arrived.

By the time we’d reached Shipton Moyne the rain had stopped.  Life through a tinted lens was looking pretty good. There was no wind to speak of and apart from our backsides which, were sodden from all of the surface water, we were dry.

Riding through Tresham there was a cluster of bearers struggling to carry a coffin. I don’t know whether it was because it was slippery underfoot or the dearly departed was on the large size, but the coffin didn’t look to be in safe hands.  Casting a watchful eye over the proceedings was the vicar standing at the church gate.  (I didn’t realise you could be buried on a Saturday)

The technical descent to Alderley was something of a white knuckle ride even with both brakes on. Having safely negotiated Wotton under Edge we took the B4058, before turning off at Charfield to Wickwar.

Passing Wickwar’s limestone quarry I was relieved to read that blasting doesn’t take place at the weekends. The remote prospect of being hit by some flying debris was soon forgotten when it began to pour with rain and just when I thought it couldn’t rain any harder, it did.

Tip-toeing into the Wickwar Coffee Shop I immediately apologised for the trail of water we’d left on the floor. The lady couldn’t have been more welcoming and offered us the window seat. Over a pot of tea and scrambled eggs on toast I watched as the rain lashed against the glass. The scene reminded me of childhood holidays spent at the seaside.

With the pot eventually drained of tea it was time to leave.  Rooted to the spot we’d shed an embarrassing amount of water on the floor. I sheepishly drew the lady’s attention to the puddles and we slipped out whilst she went to fetch the mop.

Knowing that I didn’t have enough credits or bargaining chips to persuade my wife to come and collect us, we saddled up and put on a brave, if wet, face.

At Horton the air was heavy with the scent of wild garlic, whilst the muddy narrow lanes were heavy with deep potholes. Unscathed, we then climbed up to Hawkesbury Upton and pressed on to Sherston where we decided to take the most direct route home along the B4040.

This is another route I look forward to tackling again in better weather. The countryside in and around Horton was unspoilt and well worth a return visit.