From Michael:
After my previous attempt to cycle from Canary Wharf to St Albans ended up with me having the shakes (see my post on Leisurely Friday Nights), I decided it would be a good idea to do the ride during the daylight. I also invited a companion, my brother in law Frank Akpan, who is pretty much brand new to cycling having only done three 20 mile rides previously.
Off we set from St. Albans on the train into St. Pancras on Saturday morning arriving into London just before 8am. The first part of the ride was a short trip on the main road from Kings X to Upper Street in Islington and from there down onto the Regents Canal. Although London was reasonably quiet at that time on the Saturday, the canal was a hive of activity of runners, cyclists and people taking dogs for a walk.
After a short while, we reached Victoria Park in the East End. From here we picked up the canal heading north onto the Lea Valley route. The route was very familiar having only cycled it recently and we made progress north. We managed to avoid some of the mistakes I had made previously and although we were not setting a fast pace, we continued without any problems. It was great seeing the route in daylight having ridden it in pitch darkness before (I must have been absolutely nuts).
The canal continues all the way north until you come into the East Hertfordshire town of Ware. Here we stopped for lunch before heading off again towards Hertford. Frank was heading deep into new territory for him from a distance perspective, and started to drop off the pace a bit but some words of encouragement (and no, I did not state I would bring a tow rope in future) helped to spur him on.
I have never been to Hertford (in daylight!), but on the brief viewing I got as we passed through the town centre, I thought that I really must go back with Miriam and the girls as it looked like a great little place. The signing was really frustrating at this point because we were looking to pick up the Cole Green Way (CGW) - an old railway route from Hertford to Welwyn but unfortunately it was nowhere to be found. The National Cycle routes are very poorly signed I am increasingly finding out. We ended up heading along the B158 road towards Essendon. The roads seemed familiar, and yes I had been on it on my previous attempt at the route. Fortunately, the GPS on the blackberry came to the rescue again and we were able to find a way back to the correct route and pick up the CGW and head towards Welwyn. For an old railway line, it had a couple of reasonable inclines along what was a gritty/rocky surface. Not for the first time did I feel a hardtail moutain bike would have been more appropriate.
The ride pretty much continued all the way back into St. Albans and over to Franks house where Miriam and the girls were waiting. After a hours or so break, I headed off home on the bike for the 4 mile ride back to our house. A friendly person in a white transit decided it would be fun to chuck their drink on me as they drove past (they've got a great sense of humour those guys), most of which missed. Not to worry, I had completed another 55 or so miles and could look forward to a few days break.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Saturday, March 14, 2009
A lazy week
From Michael :
After last weekends slog up and down the Brecon Beacons, I had an incredibly lazy week back in the South East. Not once did I commute to work on the bike and so I was eager to get out today with Miriam for a decent ride (thanks to Grandparents who were childminding!!!).
Suitably kitted up both with clothing and fuel (since my rather large order of sports drinks/gel etc...arrived from Science in Sport), we headed out on the Alban Way (National Route 61) towards Welwyn.....the Alban Way is a great way of getting from one side of St. Albans to the other and beyond. In no time at all we were passing Hatfield and arriving into Welwyn. A short stop on the way as we met Miriam's sister Elaine and her husband who were also out for bike ride (Frank having only just picked up his new Cannondale Bad Boy earlier this week!) we made our way through the centre of Welwyn and picked up the Ayot Greenway (National Route 12). This section was a real gem as we passed through woodland followed by open countryside on the way towards Wheathampstead. Arriving into Wheathampstead and with the 'traffic free' part of the ride over, we parked our bikes and stopped for lunch at The Swan at the bottom of 'The Hill'. 45 mins later and feeling pretty satisfied with a nice lunch inside us, we headed up The Hill which in reality is fairly short but still....on top of the lunch!
From there it was a reasonably simple ride back into the St. Albans along the roads. In total we cycled about 23 miles. Miriam agreed it is a great way to get out and exercise and I think she is starting to feel a little jealous that I'm getting to the 300 miles at the end of April...
After last weekends slog up and down the Brecon Beacons, I had an incredibly lazy week back in the South East. Not once did I commute to work on the bike and so I was eager to get out today with Miriam for a decent ride (thanks to Grandparents who were childminding!!!).
Suitably kitted up both with clothing and fuel (since my rather large order of sports drinks/gel etc...arrived from Science in Sport), we headed out on the Alban Way (National Route 61) towards Welwyn.....the Alban Way is a great way of getting from one side of St. Albans to the other and beyond. In no time at all we were passing Hatfield and arriving into Welwyn. A short stop on the way as we met Miriam's sister Elaine and her husband who were also out for bike ride (Frank having only just picked up his new Cannondale Bad Boy earlier this week!) we made our way through the centre of Welwyn and picked up the Ayot Greenway (National Route 12). This section was a real gem as we passed through woodland followed by open countryside on the way towards Wheathampstead. Arriving into Wheathampstead and with the 'traffic free' part of the ride over, we parked our bikes and stopped for lunch at The Swan at the bottom of 'The Hill'. 45 mins later and feeling pretty satisfied with a nice lunch inside us, we headed up The Hill which in reality is fairly short but still....on top of the lunch!
From there it was a reasonably simple ride back into the St. Albans along the roads. In total we cycled about 23 miles. Miriam agreed it is a great way to get out and exercise and I think she is starting to feel a little jealous that I'm getting to the 300 miles at the end of April...
Monday, March 9, 2009
Gasping Up Gospel Pass
From Stephen:
With Miriam and Michael coming to stay for the weekend the opportunity not to go for a long ride was too good to resist. Moreover, as it only being one day I wanted it to be fairly tough so that we got some insight into what it may be like covering further distances. As such I felt a 52 mile ride from Brecon into the Black mountains would be appropriate.
Setting off to Crickhowell everything was going well with no untoward events. However, immediately leaving the pretty riverside town we hit the hills. Having studiously covered the route on the Ordnance Survey map the evening before these were hills with no contours, or rather due to there minimal height they did not cross the 20m margins with great frequency. Up and down, up and down we rode bordered on our right by Sugar Loaf Mountain before finally reaching the stunning Ewenny valley. Here at last I thought we would get some respite, but oh no, there was now just a progressive up hill slog, no large inclines just a gradual increase in altitude which just seemed to sap my strength and will. Michael acted as the trail blazer apparently unaware of the gorgeous surroundings, between gasps I pointed out a ruined castle which he seemed unable to spot. He then enquired how had I liked the design of the new house we had just passed, what new house I thought? With relief the ruined Llanthony Priory finally came into view and we collapsed into the bar set into the old cellars for a well deserved steak sandwich.
Any belief that this would revitalise me rapidly evaporated as we continued our slow ascent up the valley. I knew the climb proper did not start until the Youth Hostel and steepened at the cattle grid but boy, I was suffering. Vowing never to agree to another cycle trip again I continued as best as I could but I knew that my gear ratios were well below what I normally climbed with. I had no power left in me to cycle harder. We either missed the Youth Hostel or it no longer exists, as the route steepened and with Michael now out of view I started taking increasingly frequent breaks – lets get to that passing place, to the top of this steep bit, thank goodness there is a car coming I’ll have to pull over… Finally the sign for the grid came into view and round the corner was Michael now fully recovered and waiting to continue. “I think we must have done the worst of it now”, he confidently predicted but, misery inside, I knew the contours of the map gathered togethor at this point. As we restarted three girls descended Lord Hereford’s Knob to our gate and walked towards the car park at the pass summit. Determined not to push the bike one metre I continued. Requiring frequent breaks anxiety increased as I wondered whether I would be shamed by the three girls overtaking me. Fortunately the gradient slackened and I was able to cycle the rest of the way to the saddle (520m) between Lord Hereford’s Knob and Hay Bluff. The views ahead were stunning, the flat, patch work quilt of the Wye Valley with a silver streak of the actual river and the brooding black menace of more mountains on the horizon. I pointed all this out to my colleague who seemed to take it in for a millisecond before announcing, “Okay, let’s gets going”. How lucky Michael was that I didn’t realise that at that point we were only half a mile from the English Border otherwise there would have been a short foot scramble up Hay Bluff.
We started our descent down a wonderful straight lane over moorland, not too steep and with good visibility ahead before reaching the sight of an ancient stone circle. The rain and wind started but I was determined to investigate it (not quite sure how to take Michael’s “What’s a stone circle?” comment). There was only a couple of standing stones remaining so I soon rejoined Michael who was huddled by his bike wisely wanting to get off the mountain as quick as possible.
We descended straight into the wind with horizontal rain battering our faces and, despite going downhill, we still had to peddle. For the first time I was glad that I was on a bike and not walking. As we lost altitude the elements lessened and we were soon speeding down a farmer’s lane. Knowing that I descended faster than Michael I found a convenient turnoff into a field to wait for him and waited, and waited, and waited…doubt began to enter my mind , what if he had had a nasty accident? I don’t think I had the strength to cycle back up. A car came towards me and slowed to a stop, surely my worst fear wasn’t about to come true? “Your mate’s fine, but he says you can go down hill quicker than him because you have thicker tyres.” Thicker tyres! How I wish I had thought of that on the way up, “Your mate says that you can climb quicker because you have thinner tyres”.
It was about this time that Michael gave me one of his gel packs, I don’t know what was in it, I suspect they give them to American fighter pilots prior to going into combat, as within ten minutes all fatigue was gone. We were now off the mountain and in rolling farmland again but I was climbing the hills as well as I have ever done, wondering what difference the gel would have made on the way up to Gospel Pass.
The gel was beginning to lose its afterburner effect as we passed a farm approaching the top of yet another hill. Michael shot past, causing a small, brown, yappy dog with a black and white sheep dog following to appear just as I approached. A fourteen year old girl appeared who ineffectually tried to call them off and I decided to push past. At this point a silver hair wolf, (well okay, another sheep dog but coloured grey and black) arrived to see what the fuss was about and him and his friends decided to herd me in. I was more concerned about the small yappy dog as I knew the sheep dogs would be well trained, and forced my way slowly forward. Reaching a gate which I guessed was the end of their turf I took the decision to cycle properly off. The intensity of Old Grey’s barking increased in tempo and I felt a blow to the side of my bike. I turned half expecting to see some mangled remains of Old Grey on the road but he was stood there watching me and I was free. 20m later, there was a thud. I turned to see my pannier on the floor, Old Grey had ripped it form its mounting. I cycled after Michael but he was nowhere to be seen, up the hill, down, and up another before Michael was there waiting, looking pointedly at his watch and making comments about dusk.
We descended into the worsening light and with relief we passed a “Brecon 4” sign and with delight we freewheeled down a two mile hill before rejoining the canal for a flat two mile run in to Brecon. I entered the car park elated, we had done a tough days cycling and emotionally I was in much better spirits than I had been on the way up past the priory.
Reflection
With Miriam and Michael coming to stay for the weekend the opportunity not to go for a long ride was too good to resist. Moreover, as it only being one day I wanted it to be fairly tough so that we got some insight into what it may be like covering further distances. As such I felt a 52 mile ride from Brecon into the Black mountains would be appropriate.
Setting off to Crickhowell everything was going well with no untoward events. However, immediately leaving the pretty riverside town we hit the hills. Having studiously covered the route on the Ordnance Survey map the evening before these were hills with no contours, or rather due to there minimal height they did not cross the 20m margins with great frequency. Up and down, up and down we rode bordered on our right by Sugar Loaf Mountain before finally reaching the stunning Ewenny valley. Here at last I thought we would get some respite, but oh no, there was now just a progressive up hill slog, no large inclines just a gradual increase in altitude which just seemed to sap my strength and will. Michael acted as the trail blazer apparently unaware of the gorgeous surroundings, between gasps I pointed out a ruined castle which he seemed unable to spot. He then enquired how had I liked the design of the new house we had just passed, what new house I thought? With relief the ruined Llanthony Priory finally came into view and we collapsed into the bar set into the old cellars for a well deserved steak sandwich.
Any belief that this would revitalise me rapidly evaporated as we continued our slow ascent up the valley. I knew the climb proper did not start until the Youth Hostel and steepened at the cattle grid but boy, I was suffering. Vowing never to agree to another cycle trip again I continued as best as I could but I knew that my gear ratios were well below what I normally climbed with. I had no power left in me to cycle harder. We either missed the Youth Hostel or it no longer exists, as the route steepened and with Michael now out of view I started taking increasingly frequent breaks – lets get to that passing place, to the top of this steep bit, thank goodness there is a car coming I’ll have to pull over… Finally the sign for the grid came into view and round the corner was Michael now fully recovered and waiting to continue. “I think we must have done the worst of it now”, he confidently predicted but, misery inside, I knew the contours of the map gathered togethor at this point. As we restarted three girls descended Lord Hereford’s Knob to our gate and walked towards the car park at the pass summit. Determined not to push the bike one metre I continued. Requiring frequent breaks anxiety increased as I wondered whether I would be shamed by the three girls overtaking me. Fortunately the gradient slackened and I was able to cycle the rest of the way to the saddle (520m) between Lord Hereford’s Knob and Hay Bluff. The views ahead were stunning, the flat, patch work quilt of the Wye Valley with a silver streak of the actual river and the brooding black menace of more mountains on the horizon. I pointed all this out to my colleague who seemed to take it in for a millisecond before announcing, “Okay, let’s gets going”. How lucky Michael was that I didn’t realise that at that point we were only half a mile from the English Border otherwise there would have been a short foot scramble up Hay Bluff.
We started our descent down a wonderful straight lane over moorland, not too steep and with good visibility ahead before reaching the sight of an ancient stone circle. The rain and wind started but I was determined to investigate it (not quite sure how to take Michael’s “What’s a stone circle?” comment). There was only a couple of standing stones remaining so I soon rejoined Michael who was huddled by his bike wisely wanting to get off the mountain as quick as possible.
We descended straight into the wind with horizontal rain battering our faces and, despite going downhill, we still had to peddle. For the first time I was glad that I was on a bike and not walking. As we lost altitude the elements lessened and we were soon speeding down a farmer’s lane. Knowing that I descended faster than Michael I found a convenient turnoff into a field to wait for him and waited, and waited, and waited…doubt began to enter my mind , what if he had had a nasty accident? I don’t think I had the strength to cycle back up. A car came towards me and slowed to a stop, surely my worst fear wasn’t about to come true? “Your mate’s fine, but he says you can go down hill quicker than him because you have thicker tyres.” Thicker tyres! How I wish I had thought of that on the way up, “Your mate says that you can climb quicker because you have thinner tyres”.
It was about this time that Michael gave me one of his gel packs, I don’t know what was in it, I suspect they give them to American fighter pilots prior to going into combat, as within ten minutes all fatigue was gone. We were now off the mountain and in rolling farmland again but I was climbing the hills as well as I have ever done, wondering what difference the gel would have made on the way up to Gospel Pass.
The gel was beginning to lose its afterburner effect as we passed a farm approaching the top of yet another hill. Michael shot past, causing a small, brown, yappy dog with a black and white sheep dog following to appear just as I approached. A fourteen year old girl appeared who ineffectually tried to call them off and I decided to push past. At this point a silver hair wolf, (well okay, another sheep dog but coloured grey and black) arrived to see what the fuss was about and him and his friends decided to herd me in. I was more concerned about the small yappy dog as I knew the sheep dogs would be well trained, and forced my way slowly forward. Reaching a gate which I guessed was the end of their turf I took the decision to cycle properly off. The intensity of Old Grey’s barking increased in tempo and I felt a blow to the side of my bike. I turned half expecting to see some mangled remains of Old Grey on the road but he was stood there watching me and I was free. 20m later, there was a thud. I turned to see my pannier on the floor, Old Grey had ripped it form its mounting. I cycled after Michael but he was nowhere to be seen, up the hill, down, and up another before Michael was there waiting, looking pointedly at his watch and making comments about dusk.
We descended into the worsening light and with relief we passed a “Brecon 4” sign and with delight we freewheeled down a two mile hill before rejoining the canal for a flat two mile run in to Brecon. I entered the car park elated, we had done a tough days cycling and emotionally I was in much better spirits than I had been on the way up past the priory.
Reflection
- This was a tough route, our maximum altitude on the 2 Saints Ride is, I think, 320m which is 200m lower than Gospel Pass but it concerned me the amount of climbing that was not apparent on the map and how it drained my energy, leaving me not aching or with a stitch but just feeling that I could not go on.
- Having a map had been essential, on a few occasions we may have got lost had we not had one and on our trip we will need to consult it regularly.
- I had inwardly smirked when I had seen Michael’s super foods thinking that a good breakfast and lunch would do the trick. But, the feeling of running on empty had shocked me and I now believe we should stock up and regularly take them on hilly routes.
- As a group I had no concerns riding with Michael and we had no arguments or anything remotely like. I think however, we may need to remain tighter on ascents and descents in case of trouble.
- Overall, for both of us this was our first 50 mile ride and I think one big milestone on our training.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Leisurely Friday Nights
From Michael:
So, last Friday (27th Feb) I decided that it was time to do some serious mileage....it was a beautiful sunny afternoon in London. A quick call home to Miriam at 2pm to float the idea of cycling all the way back to St. Albans along the Lea Valley and she encouraged me to go for it (what little encouraging I needed). I had mapped the route and worked it was about 45 miles which I thought would be okay from a fitness perspective. I had intended to try to leave work a bit earlier than usual to get a head start on the evening but unfortunately only got away at 5pm which left about an hour and a quarter of daylight left.
Equipped with chocolate bars and drinks, I headed out from the Wharf into Limehouse Cut and hit the Regents canal tow path. This leads straight to Victoria Park where you can take a left towards Islington or right towards the National Route 1 which was where I wanted to go. All well and good thus far. The first 8 miles were pretty easy, it was great riding past elements of the Olympic site, as well as being able to take in some of the fantastic new canalside apartments that have sprung up over the last 5 years or so. I hit my first problem just north of the Lockwood Reservoir, just east of Tottenham. The towpath ended and could I find where it picked up again......I ended up on the roads for a couple of miles before picking up the canal again. By now it was dusk and cooling down. Time for the jacket and refreshments before heading off again. Another 8 miles passed and by now it was pitch black on the tow path. I had the company of delicate looking bird or was it a bat....for about a mile or so, illuminated very delicately by my bike lights (by now, I had three on the front!). It was tough concentrating in such darkness and incredibly quiet save for the occasional hum of a canal boat where supper was being prepared. Eventually I reached Broxbourne and once again was forced off the tow path. Rather than try to pick up the trail again, I decided on continuing on the roads, calculating it would be a lot safer (and hopefully quicker for by now it was already 7.20pm). From Broxbourne to Hoddesdon to Hertford Heath to Hertford, I snaked my way across pitch black country lanes. I wasn't mentally tired, but I was struggling for I had nothing left to eat and could sense my energy levels dropping. Unfortunately, there were no suitable establishments on any of the back roads I was on. I did consider stopping at one of the fine looking country pubs I passed, but decided against it. The idea of wondering in on a Friday evening with cycling tights and a bright yellow jacket didn't enthuse me at all. The journey continued along back roads to Essendon, and from there to Welham Green and finally across the A1 to Colney Heath and somewhere close to home. I was only 6 miles or so away but it seemed to take ages. My mind started telling me how difficult the cycle up London Road would be (its not at all difficult usually) and so I broke the remaining few miles up into small sections; 'get to the post, reach the telephone booth etc....'. Finally, I arrived home at 9.20, almost four and a half hours after setting off. I had only done 43 miles but the lack of proper food and drink had left me feeling terrible. One hot stew, tea, biscuits and a bath later and all was good again.
The ride had taught me two things:
1) Don't go out without the right food, energy drinks etc...
2) Always take the blackberry with me, the GPS on google maps was unbelievably useful....I doubt I would have made it back before midnight without it!
So, last Friday (27th Feb) I decided that it was time to do some serious mileage....it was a beautiful sunny afternoon in London. A quick call home to Miriam at 2pm to float the idea of cycling all the way back to St. Albans along the Lea Valley and she encouraged me to go for it (what little encouraging I needed). I had mapped the route and worked it was about 45 miles which I thought would be okay from a fitness perspective. I had intended to try to leave work a bit earlier than usual to get a head start on the evening but unfortunately only got away at 5pm which left about an hour and a quarter of daylight left.
Equipped with chocolate bars and drinks, I headed out from the Wharf into Limehouse Cut and hit the Regents canal tow path. This leads straight to Victoria Park where you can take a left towards Islington or right towards the National Route 1 which was where I wanted to go. All well and good thus far. The first 8 miles were pretty easy, it was great riding past elements of the Olympic site, as well as being able to take in some of the fantastic new canalside apartments that have sprung up over the last 5 years or so. I hit my first problem just north of the Lockwood Reservoir, just east of Tottenham. The towpath ended and could I find where it picked up again......I ended up on the roads for a couple of miles before picking up the canal again. By now it was dusk and cooling down. Time for the jacket and refreshments before heading off again. Another 8 miles passed and by now it was pitch black on the tow path. I had the company of delicate looking bird or was it a bat....for about a mile or so, illuminated very delicately by my bike lights (by now, I had three on the front!). It was tough concentrating in such darkness and incredibly quiet save for the occasional hum of a canal boat where supper was being prepared. Eventually I reached Broxbourne and once again was forced off the tow path. Rather than try to pick up the trail again, I decided on continuing on the roads, calculating it would be a lot safer (and hopefully quicker for by now it was already 7.20pm). From Broxbourne to Hoddesdon to Hertford Heath to Hertford, I snaked my way across pitch black country lanes. I wasn't mentally tired, but I was struggling for I had nothing left to eat and could sense my energy levels dropping. Unfortunately, there were no suitable establishments on any of the back roads I was on. I did consider stopping at one of the fine looking country pubs I passed, but decided against it. The idea of wondering in on a Friday evening with cycling tights and a bright yellow jacket didn't enthuse me at all. The journey continued along back roads to Essendon, and from there to Welham Green and finally across the A1 to Colney Heath and somewhere close to home. I was only 6 miles or so away but it seemed to take ages. My mind started telling me how difficult the cycle up London Road would be (its not at all difficult usually) and so I broke the remaining few miles up into small sections; 'get to the post, reach the telephone booth etc....'. Finally, I arrived home at 9.20, almost four and a half hours after setting off. I had only done 43 miles but the lack of proper food and drink had left me feeling terrible. One hot stew, tea, biscuits and a bath later and all was good again.
The ride had taught me two things:
1) Don't go out without the right food, energy drinks etc...
2) Always take the blackberry with me, the GPS on google maps was unbelievably useful....I doubt I would have made it back before midnight without it!
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