Not the Club Ride Saturday 4th October 2014

The Cumberland Basin, Bristol

The Tasty Cheddar 101km Audax

It was pouring with rain when I arrived at the Cumberland Basin, Bristol for the start of the ride. A waterproof jacket, as opposed to a water resistant one, has been at the top of my shopping list for more months than I care to remember and now there was going to be a heavy price to pay for my indecision.

There was still a while to the start, but things had already gone badly. I’d forgotten to bring my Garmin, so would need to rely on the routesheet. Reference to which, would mean I’d need to stop and put my reading glasses on. And to put the cherry on the cake, I had also managed to leave my Cateye speedometer at home.

Poor form I know, but I decided, where possible, to discretely follow other riders who looked as if they might know where they were going, but far enough back to avoid any suggestion that I was riding on their wheels.

As riders flooded out of the car park, I joined those taking the A4 Portway rather than the alternative Pill Path. Moving past groups with alarming ease, it wasn’t too long before I found myself towards the front, which was the last place I wanted to be.

Despite getting stuck behind a bus at Shirehampton, I just about managed to keep two cyclists in view and it was with some relief that I found my way onto the Avonmouth Bridge. 

Check-in at Portishead

The first control of the day was outside the Lakeside Café at Portishead. Too soon for refreshments maybe, but just right for the toilet. I fished out my 20p coin, as advised. That was one thing I had remembered, but I needn’t have bothered, as the door was being kept open.

Not the queue for the toilet, riders wait patiently to get their brevet cards stamped 

The coast road provided some spectacular views across the Rivern Severn and the first hint of some improvement in the weather.  Along Clevedon’s promenade, a fellow cyclist informed me that it was always sunny there. My own experience of Clevedon told me otherwise.

Turning inland, we headed for Cheddar. Having ridden through Yatton and Congresbury, we joined the cycle path at Winscombe. This ran along the trackbed of the former Strawberry Line, so called because of the high volume of locally grown strawberries the trains once carried.

A highlight or to be more precise, a lowlight of this section, was riding through the long, dark railway tunnel. Just about able to make out shapes inside, I was grateful for a single, central row of what can best be described as landing lights running from end to end, to help guide me through. In fairness to the organisers, Cycle Bristol CTC, they had mentioned the need for lights, but my puny one proved fairly ineffective.

On the outskirts of Cheddar, so late in the season, I was surprised to find Cheddar strawberries still being sold at the roadside.

Time for tea at Cheddar

The next control, the Fortes Ice Cream Parlour and Café, was located at the bottom of Cheddar Gorge. Brevet card stamped it was time for one of my staples, a pot of tea and a slice of carrot cake. Taking my seat and seeing the wide selection of club jerseys on display, it was time to give mine a bit of an airing too. Simple in design it might be, but the green is very bold and always stands out well in a crowd.

After a bit of unnecessary fiddling around with my bike whilst I waited for some riders whom I thought might be of similar age and ability as me, the ascent of Cheddar Gorge was underway. The higher we went, the stronger the sun became and when we eventually reached the summit, we were rewarded with the comforting warmth of the sun’s rays on our backs.

The delightful Ring O' Bells

After some technical descents across the Mendip Hills, there was then an assault on the hill up to Hinton Blewett. AAA points aren’t given away lightly and we’d have to earn the one point the ride merited.  This time our reward came in the form of the control at the Ring O’ Bells public house.  Here, doorstop sized sandwiches piled high with filling were flying out of the kitchen whilst I made-do with a coke and a bag of peanuts.

Setting off for the last leg I became aware of a rubbing noise coming from the back wheel. Inspection revealed that the bracket supporting the rear metal mudguard had snapped off. The best I could come up with in my bag of tricks was the band of rubber wrapped around my spare inner tube. This didn’t help matters and unable to find any bale twine to tie up the mudguard, it had to go. Once removed, I rode with it in my hand for a couple of miles, but negotiating the lumpy countryside was definitely a two-handed operation and in the end we had to part-company.  I lied, promising to come and retrieve it later, knowing I never would.

The final run-in was pain-free and validation at the control outside of the Nova Scotia public house, instant. This was a well organised event with an interesting and challenging course.