Last Sunday’s Hammster Runn….

A goodly selection of the Marauders – me, Milo, Mighty Marie, Ali the ‘Lyin’ Scotsman, Phil the Ratcatcher Bolton Abbey accompanied a paltry few Hammsters, or even a few paltry Hammsters even… namely ‘uncle’ Geoff Ellis, Lord Woodster of Woodchip, and some other bloke (Mick?) oh and Karen ‘TT Titan’ Taylor, who is a bit of a renegade & doesn’t really fall into anybody’s gang….. Have I missed anybody? Don’t think so, for the SS (That’s Secret Squirrels, not Wreckless Himmler’s SchutzStaffel…..) were away Sportivioing….

So, me and Marie lead on to K Town, whereupon I am ‘exhausted’ with her attempts to engage me in conversation with her constant yakkety chirruping, and I try to conserve my energy by nodding sagely and grunting…. Alas, as we peel off at Kliffe Kastle, ‘uncle’ Geoff joins me, and it is he that twitters and mithers away in me lug hole all the wruddy way to Skiptonshire… where by the time we have scaled the height of the climb out of town I am defo in need of a littel lie down, and promptly take one!

Well….. the new bicycle decides it’s time I had a ‘nap’ as the front wheel lands on a large metal cover, the tyre hits the edge and goes awol!!! sending me curbwards eeeaaarhgh! whence the bicycle suddenly ‘lies down’ on the grass…. oooopphhhh!!! I gasp winded. I hear a cry go out ‘Man Off’… which sounds suspiciously like ‘Mile Off’… Phat chance I think…. and struggle manfully feetwards, casting a cursory glance over the Colnagolooni…. Phew… no signs of great scrapage down the phorks… just a phew….. spokeular scratches where they have made contact with the kerb. I leap into the (Colnago) saddle and pedal up to the r/about…. Bl*ddy h*ll they are all waiting!!! I make mental note to enter this in me diary…. peloton waits… that’s a 1st!

Which ‘minds me… on Weds, when I am riding with Foxy Milo and Moanin’ Mark Bolton Abbey, and Mark’s bottle ejects itself from his cheap bottle cage (I wonder where he got them from…? Not the Chrome ‘n Glass emporium that is Paul Milnes Cycles I’ll be bound! and Foxy Milo slows down…… and… wait for this…. stops… and unclips!!! Bl**dy H*ll… What are you doing? as I sail away….. you don’t wait for me for anything….. Yes… that’s right, he smirks…..

Anyroadup, the pace quickens a tad as we head Grassington and Kettlewellshirewards…. and frequent calls of ‘mile off’ have to be made to reign in the leaders, for Karen is falling out the back, together with Mick(?) Tho TT Titan Karen was racing on the Sat so she has an excuse. We largely remain together, but the weather deteriorates, and becomes murky/misty and remains cold….. Marie twitters that she hopes it doesn’t rain, for she has no coat…. What? ‘Be Prepared’ Marie…. Oh, you wouldn’t have been in the Scouts would you…. well try this one… ‘Ne’er cast a clout ’till May is out’. Olde Yarkshire saying… Fortunately (for Marie) the rain holds off, and we don’t have to ‘cape up’.

As we approach Kilnsey Krag, we have had enough of the dog’s abuse and tootings being hurled at us from sundry Sunday Rednecked motorists (probly from K Town) W*nkers! we decide to Kurtail Kettlewell in favour of a detour via Koniston to Grassington and thus to Burnsall, where my bicycle knows its own way!

The cafe is heaving, but hey we are ‘regglars’ and soon manage to eject a couple of tables of part time ‘off ‘t cumden’s to get seated. I soon get myself outside of my usual ‘Brownlee Special’, as does his Lordshop, for it is my ‘turn’ to pay….

As I go to pay, I see a fellow psyclist sporting a Maglia Rosa (Pink Jersey you plebs!) and as I am sporting my good Giro top, we are soon engaged in jolly conversation, whereupon he tells me his top is this year’s ‘model’ having been ‘designed’ by my fave designer clothier Paul Smith.

Look… he says showing me his signature writ large on the front… I went to the launch last week… and got him to sign this he says proudly….

B*st*rd! I grimace…. I decide I am going to have to k*ll him and steal his jersey!!!

Suitably replenished, we depart on the back road ostensibly to avoid the traffic, and all goes well until we hit the infamous col de Nesfield, and the ‘chancers’ commence their sprint for the Ilkley sign. I decide not to bother, for I still have the 40 mile TT training ride/sprint in me littel legs (see me Pharcebook page!) with Milo the day before. Not much else to report I don’t think….. back home (headwind) just in time to make tea…

That reminds me I must ‘catalogue’ my Paul Smith collection… plebs!

Turbot the sharp dressed man…..

Sat at Guiseley on my own at ten to nine, not another rider in sight. Nightmare. Well it was by five to, when Geoff and John had turned up. Geoff & John! Thoughts of coasting back home down Hollins Hill and putting the feet up for the day were dashed, and a ‘world of pain’ opened up before me. Not least because Geoff has a new bike – now what have we told bike retailers about NOT selling Geoff anything that will make him go faster…?

Anyway, we set off up the hill to warm up, on what was really a lovely day. Wiggled our way through Bramhope and then back down into the valley and eventually back onto the regular route through Kirkby Overblow and onto Knaresborough (via Wetherby). John seemed to suddenly get hungry at Wetherby and lifted the pace dragging us along behind him in a
Cancellara-esque effort to get us to the tea shop.

We just beat the 11am rush, where flushed with the realisation that they only had to pay for their own refreshments (and not also that of sons, partners, etc), Geoff and John went wild and both had an extra coffee!

The return trip was sweetened by the easterly (westerly?) wind blowing us home, and was fairly uneventful until Geoff decided to see what the new bike could do on the run in to Otley. I was left well floundering trying to catch up, but we got him – when he decided to free wheel again.

The final climb up the Chevin was (yet another) lesson in ‘digging in’ for me, but  overall a good ride out.

Good turn out at Saltaire, looked like it would be a nice steady ride, and it was until by some cruel twist of traffic light fate, we ended up on the back of the Pennine Cycles people. Suddenly it was a lively pace through to Crosshills, where thankfully the Pennine lot turned off. This pace though made it hard for those from Keighley, not used to seeing Hammsters go past in a blur to tag on. John made it by the time we started to climb out of Skipton, but Tis was never seen again! Sorry!

The climb out of Skipton fractured the group, but in dribs and drabs we re-grouped into smaller packs and by the time we all ended up at the cafe, we were all queuing in the same line for our grub. In some strange biblical twist it also worked out that the last were served first and the first were served last. Excellent service as far as us slower ones were concerned!

Special mention goes to Karen, who was out earlier, further, and faster and on her own. She popped into the cafe to say hello, and WITHOUT troughing down, beans, toast, and mugs of tea, set off for home ahead of us all. Well done!

Homeward journey was a mix of steady, fast, steady. The last I saw of most people came on the road out of Ilkley. Al and I trundled up the hill together, at a very reasonable pace, pleased to have a good 50 add miles in  the bag.

February’s ride had:

• headwinds
• tailwinds
• punctures
• broken wheels
• champions
• hangers on
• a big pork pie
• a split in the group
• 20+ Red Kites

There’s also the tale of when Lizzy Armistead finally got to meet,
Woody, Sport John and myself – what a year!

Two things that stick in my mind about this ride are:

• It was really warm for January
• Loads of cyclists were out, like literally loads

A good bunch of us set off from Saltaire, and then some joined and some left, hence the confusion about numbers, but it was always a decent sized pack. Riders coming up the valley to look for their regular groups joined us once or twice (before becoming scared at our obviously superior abilities!).

The cafe at Bolton Abbey was chock-a-block with the lycra brigade, as were the back roads between Embsay and Bolton Abbey, and then later on to Ilkley.

It was mostly a steady day, but with a couple of lumps and the odd over enthusiastic pack leader there were a couple of points to make you breathe a bit, but good miles, good weather and good company to start the year.

The ride had many features (wind, rain, etc) but also significantly lacked others, including the very presence of the said St Turbot, he having communicated with St Paulus Milnesius via an early morning vision that, due to a touch of sofa-cleaner’s elbow and excessive wind, he was going out on the mountain bike.

Thus a depleted group gathered at Grizzley as the joint third shortest day of the year “dawned”, comprising Milnesius, PC Peleton Pete, Daz “Creepy” Crawley and, representing Hammsters and K-Town Clangers respectively, Geoff “Iron-hip” Ellis and sportjohnbiglegs.

Geoff was in two minds as to whether to do the Hammster Bolton Abbey route alone, but made an executive “amber going on red” (see below) decision to risk Knaresboro’! Milnesy revealed in cafe later that he is firmly in the “light green” category (see below again!) in that he daren’t even wake to missus to offer tea and toast in the first place!!

Literally plain sailing out to Knaresboro; gale force wind behind and just gravelly and flooded roads to deal with. The cafe was reached in the nick of time, as it was about to be invaded by some bl**dy cyclists! “We’re not with them” shouts Milnesy as we nip in quick and place orders for festive beans. A whole table has been reserved and we all sing Turbot’s praises as we bless what we mistakenly believe to be his foresight and thoughtfulness. Unpleasant scenes follow as we are ejected to a smaller table having discovered that the booking is for some sort of family function. “Are we not one big happy family?!” asks St Paul wistfully. “No” say the others, so it’s elbows and stomachs in as we squeeze five round our table for two.

As we eat, Milnesy reflects on the busiest six months in history for his glass and chrome emporium and starts projecting world domination on the back of the visit of “Le Tour” to Yorkshire in 2014. “Bloody Tour de France should stay in France!” growls PC through his poached egg and much discussion follows while we debate the effect on the blood pressure of the average Yorkshire motorist of a novelty vehicle procession some 5 miles long!!

Back on the road it’s headwind all the way back but a steady pace. Indeed, heading into Otley it’s all very civilised, very much like a Christmas “Amnesty”, like playing football in the trenches. We pass the Otley sign holding hands and singing “O Come All Ye Faithful, Turbot and Triumphant!” and half expect the man himself to appear out of the roadside shrubbery on his MTB to “nick” the sign at the death!

The amnesty suffers a bit on the Chevin. We pass a bloke wearily pushing his MTB up the slope, only for him to be suddenly inspired, jump on and start giving Geoff some stick!!

However, we’re all up, and it’s all over bar the shouting for another year. Emotional farewells (“Cheers lads”) and then own separate ways to mull over personal new year’s resolutions (eg, “I’m not going out with that lot again!”, etc, etc).

In the meantime, a very merry Xmas to All and here’s to 2013!!!

Cheers

Braided Wigglings
(the pen name of the sportturbotbiglegsjohnnywild publishing consortium)

Geoff.e

No Riders: 15

Lovely ride on a cold wintry morning through the lanes to Knaresborough.

Very cold descent into Otley, but we soon warmed up through the back roads to Kirkby Overblow.

We took the ‘third’ way to Knaresborough and squeezed into the cafe, where Paul managed to sell some bikes to some innocent Sunday day trippers (I think).

Good steady ride back until Woody went for it on the Pool to Otley stretch. He did apologise later, but that was a minor misdemeanour compared with the decision to return to Guiseley via the Chevin.

Next month there may be more goodwill to all men (and women).

A deceptively cold, but lovely clear sunny morning for a ride to Gargrave and back. Just 4 of us set of from Saltaire, picking up two more outside Bingley. (both of whom had set off down the road after other groups of riders only to discover they were not us! Busy day for cyclists). However, the lights and the prospect of a tow from another group, split the original (ahem) peleton, so there were still 4 of us on the majority of the ride to Gargrave.

At the cafe, Woody, despite his leap from the peleton was still trying to warm himself up, along with a bunch of familiar faces. These hardened riders decided to head off for a few more miles of sunshine, while the rest of us headed back the way we had come.

Lovely day for a ride.

Nice little Sunday ride.