July 29th 2018: Geraint Thomas, a worthy champion

So the three week bubble that is the Tour de France has wound up for another year, the curtain has come down on what has proved to be an entertaining and rejuvenating race. There are a number of winners, but perhaps the most worthy of all is none other than Geraint Thomas, G, a man of the people who has stolen many a heart on his way to a magnificent Tour victory. He has for years been a loyal member of the Team Sky juggernaut, serving others and helping, in particular. Chris Froome become winners. He has endured so much misfortune – crashes when leading the Tour and sitting pretty in the Giro – that it seems somehow even more a case of poetic justice that he should be the sole rider who has gone the three weeks in France without crashing, without puncturing, without a mechanical issue and whose judgement and race craft has been in a class above. Watching him cry as he realised the magnitude of what he has achieved simply served to endear him even more to a nation who have taken him to their hearts. I cannot imagine anyone begrudging G this win, it is simply a fine reward for everything he has given his team and teammates over the years. For me, being there at La Rosiere on the day he rode into yellow and proved that he was a genuine contender was, indeed, very special. Mention must be made, too, of Tom Dumoulin who has contributed so much to this year's race. To finish second to G is no disgrace, particularly as he has raced almost single-handedly in the mountains thanks to a much weaker team who were simply unable to support him. With a great ride in this year's Giro in his legs he still, somehow, managed to push G and the Sky team all the way and was a worthy second in the race. And Chris Froome, too, showed his class, putting in a brilliant time trial display to recapture his podium place when all seemed lost after Primoz Roglich's daring attack off the Aubisque on stage 19. It is an understatement to say he is not universally liked, particularly by a sadly appallingly behaved French audience who seemed to react badly to the fact that yet again their own riders failed to perform at a sufficiently high level to challenge in what they regard as their own race. The wait for the Badger's successor continues for another year. Mention also should be made of Peter Sagan – many might think that yet another green jersey, his sixth, was a formality, but after crashing badly on stage 17 it was anything but. And his panache makes him always worth watching. People complain about Team Sky's race strategy, but on stage 12, a stage that resulted in a five-way sprint finish amongst the top five GC contenders on the summit finish to Alpe d'Huez, primarily as a result of Team Sky's 'stifling boring race strategy'. I have to say I think they are watching the wrong sport. For me, whilst perhaps not an epic race, it was always full of interest and kept the attention to the very end.

July 24th 2018: Cobblers - our very own Tour of Flanders

Having spent a week in the Alps, enjoying some amazing scenery and great cycling, it was time for Paul and I to head for home. We had decided to take a bit of a detour and stop en route in Flanders, home of the Belgian cobbles. More specifically we had two nights booked in a B&B just outside Oudenaarde, famous for the Tour of Flanders. This gave us a full day to savour and 'enjoy' the delights of the infamous cobbled climbs of this region. A long, long drive from Sollieres saw us arrive in Enaeme after just over 1000km on the road. We rode into the town centre to have a bit of a gander and also find some food (and beer) after our long day before retiring for some much needed kip in readiness for a Sunday on the cobbles.

The next morning dawned gloriously sunny and warm and perfect for riding. Our B&B was quirky but comfortable and we were well rested. Retracing our route along the river Schelde into Oudenaarde we found our way to De Ronde, the cycling museum for everything Flanders, and got hold of a route map. There are a number of routes which take you around part (or all) of the Tour of Flanders and we opted for the 80k blue route, including the Koppenberg and Oude Kwaremont. From De Ronde, the blue route takes you out along the Schelde for 12km or so before heading to Kwaremont and the first challenge of the day, the infamous cobbled climb of the Oude Kwaremont, one of the longer sections we would experience all day. Unless you have riddent the cobbles it is difficult to convey the experience. Suffice to say it is rather like being in a milkshake but drier. The bike bounces on the uneven surface, rather like a bucking bronco trying to unseat the rider. If you grip the bars too hard your whole body shakes uncontrollably – the key is to have light hands and guide the bike where you want it to go. Not easy on 10% gradients! Paul opted for the racing line in the gutter where it was smoother, I claimed the moral high ground by staying in the centre of the cobbled road to get the full flavour of this epic climb. I was, suffice to say, glad to see the end of it and relax. We crossed the main road and came across a wonderful outdoor exhibition of the Tour, celebrating past winners and providing some biopics of some of the famous past combatants, including Tom Simpson, Tom Boonen and the incomparable Fabian Cancellara. We cruised some of the wonderful country lanes and soon came to our next section, the Paterberg, a short but steep cobbled climb to nowhere (like so many of these climbs). Paul decided to go full gas and take the climb head on. I went for a more sedate and comfortable approach, taking a few photos of him as he strained sinews up the steep grind. At the top we rested to take in the pastoral view of fields and hedgerows before making ur way over the next few kilometers to the crux of the day – the Koppenberg. Magnificent, spectacular and horrific all in one. At the bottom we stopped to savour the place, take some photos and prepare ourselves for what was to come. Peaking at about 20% and narrowing through an avenue of trees whose cover makes the surface treacherous, it is quite a climb. Again Paul gave it everything, I opted for taking it 'easy' and enjoying the whole experience. It was hard. I confess as I reached the steepest section on the damp tree-covered cobbles I opted for the easy option and walked the worst bit. I am not that proud, and I soon remounted and completed the climb in style for Paul's camera.

From here on the route meanders back and forth taking in a number of other climbs and cobbled sections before rolling into the town of Ronse where we had hoped to get some lunch. Sadly, it seemed that unless we went for the full Sunday lunch option this was not going to happen. Sandwiches and a beer would have been more than sufficient. We carried on. More climbs (and more descents) followed and as we headed back to Oudenaarde via a tortuously circuitous route we got the feeling that they were taking us all round the houses simply to pad the distance out, which tended to take a bit of the gloss off our experience. Nevertheless, it was a cracking ride and we rolled back into Oudenaarde and De Ronde for a cheeky beer to celebrate and venerate the Flanders cobbles. A great end to our French Connection as we looked forward to the rest of the journey home. If you get the chance to go ride here in Flanders you should do it. Soon!

July 21st 2018: Vive le Tour

Following our exploits on the highest paved road pass in Europe, we had the chance to go that way again the next morning, this time in the car, bound for La Rosiere where the Tour de France were in town, with a Stage 11 summit finish due there that afternoon. When we were arranging our week in the Alps the route and timing of the Tour de France were very much to the fore in our planning, there is nothing quite like seeing a summit finish in the flesh. Another sunny morning saw us loading up the car with bikes and drinks to last the day and away we went, up the valley and over the Col de l'Iseran once again. Somewhat earlier than yesterday, the climb was pretty quiet and we arrived at the summit to find the shop shut and hardly anyone about. Being a glorious sunny clear day we stopped to grab a few photos, and take in the stunning scenery, by which time the shop had opened and I was able to purchase my Col de l'Iseran jersey as a souvenir of yesterday's ride. The descent into Val d'Isere and on down to the village of St Foy-Tarentaise where there is a small road which heads up to join the climb to La Rosiere. Our plan was to ride from here to the finish line, not unlike a lot of other people who were riding or walking to the route. The excitement and atmosphere always builds as you get ever higher on the climb, and once we joined the Tour route the crowds lining the road grew and grew. And the sun shone, and everything was set for a great day. Little did we know! By the time we had ridden the 12km or so to La Rosiere itself and locked our bikes to a TV camera enclosure railing, it was early afternoon and the crowds were amazing. The race itself had only just set off, some 4 hours away so we had some time to kill. Lunch would be a great start and we found a bar, complete with TV so could enjoy the spectacle as Team Sky settled in to control the breakaway and set everything up for their two protected GC riders, Froome and Thomas. Not long after the publicity caravan came into town, and there were goodies to be had as they hurled nicknacks and t-shirts at all and sundry. We managed some pickings, mostly tat, but including some caps which would make good pressies back home. We settled in front of the big screen to watch the race progressing and as the breakaway and peloton hit the final climb the excitement rose another notch. In the break Mikel Nieve (ex Sky) had ridden off the front in a bid for a stage win, whilst behind Team Sky drove the pace, even tually unleashing Geraint Thomas with 5km to go who then proceeded to chase down the breakaway riders. Paul and I found ourselves a good vantage point some 400m from the finish and waited. A running commentary over the speakers that lined the course kept us abreast of the situation and it was clear that G was closing fast on Nieve – the question was could he catch him and take the stage. As they came round the corner and under the 500m kite the answer was evidently yes and G caught and passed the unfortunate Nieve with less than 400m to go, taking a glorious stage victory and, with it, the maillot jaune. Behind him there was a fight for the placings with Froome and Dumoulin neck and neck, clearly marking themselves as strong contenders for the overall. But it was G's day. And we revelled in his elation as we sallied back down to St Foy and a welcome dinner in the hotel there before a late, late drive back over the Iseran, savouring an historic day.

Thursday was another Alps Tour day and we planned to catch a glimpse of the race on stage 12, as they came through the intermediate sprint in St Jean de Maurienne, down the valley from our base. As we had done a couple of days earlier, we took the car and bikes down to St Michel and then rode down to St Jean to join what turned out to be a disappointingly sparse crowd in the town there. Having expected all sorts of entertainment and jostling crowds (as per Sarlat in the Dordogne last year) we were underwhelmed by the town's lack of excitement. Nevertheless, there was a bit to see and we found a spot by the sprint line and waited for the publicity caravan. The advantage of such a paltry crowd was that there were more pickings to be had and we were soon laden with booty! More presents for back home! We found a takeaway for lunch then headed back to the sprint point to wait for the race to arrive on their way to Alpe d'Huez via the Croix de Fer. A small break came through a few minutes ahead but the anticipated sprint just didn't happen as none of the riders were interested. Ah well. The same was true for the peloton a few minutes later and they were gone. A flash of colour, a brief increase in the noise and a flurry of lycra and the race was onto the Alpe and a five way sprint between the top five contenders on GC. Another brilliant victory for G, the first man to win on the Alpe whilst wearing the yellow jersey and cementing his position at the head of the GC, which he would hold all the way to Paris where he took a magnificent and deserved first Tour de France title. In the meantime Paul and I headed back to St Jean, relaxed after an enjoyable if slightly flat day at the races, back in time to see the final 40 minutes on TV and watch the race unfold. It was brilliant to watch.

For our last day we had one last activity to tick off, a trip to the eponymous Colle del Nivolet, which, although only about 35km away as the crow flies, meant a drive over the border into Italy and Turin before heading into the mountains and the Ceresole Reale National Park. The Nivolet is renowned as the location where they filmed the closing sequences of the original (and best) Italian Job back in 1969 with the team's escape bus left hanging over the edge of a cliff high in the mountains as they headed out of Turin after their daring heist. For many years Paul and I have talked of going there to visit, and whilst it would have been great to ride the climb the distances involved meant that we wouldn't really have time. So today was a non-cycling day, today we would be ordinary visitors on the Alpine tourist trail. In all it was about 100 miles into Ceresole Reale via the magnificent Mont-Cenis, a long descent into Susa and then motorway past Turin and up into the ever narrowing valley roads, up and up. We weren't disappointed, the scenery was amazing, despite the deteriorating weather as clouds began to gather. They stayed high and we drove the full climb before stopping at that fateful point where the hapless Charlie Croker and his boys were left dangling, their fate forever a matter of great debate. Strangely there was a information board there but it said nothing about the film, so we were left with our vision of the film and Paul did his Charlie Croker bit by lying out on the cliff edge and uttering those fateful words – 'Hang on a minute lads – I've got a great idea'. One day it would be good to return and ride the road to the Italian Job, not an easy climb with some tricky steeper sections, but definitely one of those must-do climbs. Who knows? We descended slowly and stopped for so many photos of the most stunning mountain scenery you could imagine before heading back the way we had come into a torrential thunderstorm near Turin. We had been lucky. A great day out to finish our week here in the Alps.

July 17th 2018: Going Alpine

It's a long way to the Alps. A very long way. Paul and I left Chester on a sunny Friday July afternoon, headed for Harwich and a boat to Europe. Travelling anywhere in the UK on a Friday afternoon, especially in summer, can be a tense affair, but we left ourselves plenty of time (a good job we did) and by 9.30pm we were in the queue to board our overnight ferry to Hoek van Holland, having chosen to give the Kent ports a wide berth in the light of the many scare stories of how bad they are becoming as we lurch towards our post-Brexit Armageddon. Good choice I feel, and the whole ferry thing was as relaxing as we could have hoped – we enjoyed a cheeky beer on deck as the boat sailed gently out of Harwich and across a smooth North Sea.

Saturday was Bastille Day in France, probably not the best day to be travelling the length of the country. First, though, we had to negotiate Holland and Belgium (somehow we missed out Luxembourg – due to heavy traffic), and it was interesting to note the subtle differences when transitioning (is that a word?) from one country to the next. In total we had some 1200km to drive and Daphne, my untrusty satnav, promised us we could do it in 12 hours. Tosh! Rolling off the ferry at 8.30am, it was 10 at night when we finally cruised into the tiny village of Sollieres-Sardieres, high in the Savois Alps up the Arc valley from Modane. It was raining, and we couldn't find our gite. Perfect!

Of course, it all worked out, we did find our gite – and it did stop raining. The following morning we were rewarded with breathtaking mountain views from our terrace as we set about breakfast (bought in a supermarket near Lyon as the Bastille Day 7.30 supermarket curfew fast approached – we were actually shepherded out of the shop as the staff wanted to go home) and planned our day. After driving for so long, we decided that it would be a bike-only day and the nearest big hill was the Col du Mont-Cenis, a splendid Alpine pass that crosses into Italy and the start of the climb was only about 10km up the valley from us, from the village of Lanslebourg. It was a bit of a warm-up 10km, with a gratuitous 10% ramp thrown in out of the next village, but in 40 minutes or so we were taking photos at the foot of the road to Italy and raring to go. It's a 10km climb, and rises some 650m, so not the most demanding, but the road sweeps and turns, first through forest, then out into open mountainside before a final ramp to the summit café at 2083m. The best is yet to come as the road continues into Italy alongside the beautiful and spectacular Lac du Mont-Cenis. The cameras were now working overtime as we took it all in and enjoyed so many wow moments. A little further on a visitor centre was the centre of attention as what appeared to be the Turin Vespa owners club had clearly decided that today's club outing was Lac du Mont-Cenis. There were hundreds of them and it was quite a sight. Paul and I had a quick shufti round the exhibition centre, where there was some splendid Alpine photography on show as well as a history of the lake and its damn, built to supply Turin and holding some 660 million cubic litres – that's a lot of bidons! We settled into a refuge for some lunch (and a cheeky beer) with views of the lake and mountains before heading back to the Col and the lovely swooping descent back to Lanslevillard (further up the Arc valley). As cols go, this is definitely one to be recommended.

The next day the forecast suggested a threat of thunderstorms in the high mountains so we decided to drop down the valley and go and ride the famous Lacets de Montvernier, a bit of a novelty climb, included in the Tour de France back in 2015 primarily because it looks brilliant on the helicopter shots. Many of the valley towns are industrial and not the prettiest, especially from the autoroute, but they provide gateways to some of the most famous Alpine passes, including the Galibier and Madeleine. We threw the bikes in the back of the car and drove the 20 miles or so down to St Michel de Maurienne where we parked up. The valley is narrow and steep sided and at times it is a tight fit as motorway, main road, railway and river all squeeze their way between the rocky ramparts. Not the most attractive 15km but we soon arrived in St Jean where Wednesday's Tour stage would be hosting a sprint so we went to do a recce as the plan was to be there for that. The Lacets climb is but a short hop further down the valley and soon we were at the foot gazing up at the impossibly tight hairpins that weave a pattern up the cliff face. Quite why anyone dreamt up the idea of building a road up there is beyond me – especially as there is a perfectly good road up the valley in behind (which we would be descending later). Anyway, it is a short 3.5km climb but steep at 8% average, and clearly attracts a lot of attention as we saw a number of other cyclists taking on the challenge. Paul clearly was on one and as soon as we hit the lower slopes he was gone, easing away from me and round the next hairpin, only to be seen again at the top in Montvernier village. The views quickly unfolded as the road climbs so abruptly, and half way up I passed a suspended giant polka dot jersey, installed I imagine by some lunatic climber for the Tour. It looked quite dramatic though. At the top it was time for the usual photos and some gratuitous facebook posting before taking that winding back road down to the valley again and lunch in St Jean (another cheeky beer), before the ride back up the valley to St Michel. Back in 2011 we came this way on the Marmotte and I had some unfinished business on the Col du Telegraphe which heads out of St Michel. I suffered that day and badly wanted to revisit the climb and banish those gremlins. Paul opted not to join me (he didn't have a bad day in 2011), so I rode alone as the thunder clouds rumbled and rolled around threatening but never quite delivering. At 12km and rising 830m it is a really nice climb and as I topped out I felt glad to have rid myself of those negative vibes about the climb. The rain started as I began my descent, not the most enjoyable, but it didn't spoil what had been a great day out on the bikes in the Alps.

Tuesday dawned bright and sunny, the mountain summits clear under blue skies. Perfect for a foray up the Col de l'Iseran, a 2770m monster, and the highest paved road pass in Europe. After a hearty breakfast we lobbed the bikes into the back of the car and set off up the valley to the village of Bessans, high up at 1750m but still over 1000m below the Iseran. This is high country indeed! From Bessans it is a steady ride up the D902 to Bonneval-sur-Arc, the pretty village which nestles at the very foot of the climb. This would be perfect for lunch later. The skies were still clear and it was warm too, but who knows what conditions might be like up at 9150 feet. Then we were off, up the 13km climb to the very skies, and soon the valley floor was laid out far below us as we embraced the mountain scenery par excellence. This is a climb for the camera, with so many amazing and stunning views it hurts. Or maybe that was the constant steady grind of the 8% slopes we were slowly making our way up. The climb is really in three distinct parts: the first 4km comprises two long straight ramps, before the road turns north into a higher valley and opens out with mountains all around as the stream tumbles down from the glaciers higher up, walking trails heading off into the hills. This section climbs steeply in places before it finally skirts a headwall and sneaks through a narrow gap in the mountains to reach the third and steepest part of the climb, the final 3km ramp up through the snow fields before finally reaching the summit. And the crowds! Motorbikes, cars, other cyclists (of course), even the odd lorry were all vying for parking space and the chance to pose for photos in front of the summit roadsign. It is a spectacular setting, with a small chapel and the ubiquitous summit shop to divert attention from the surrounding high scenery. By now the clouds had rolled in and the temperature had cooled somewhat so we didn't tarry too long before donning jackets for the long descent back to the warmth of the valley far below. And what a descent. A stiff breeze and rough road meant that circumspection was required for the first part, but after that you could let the bike go a little and enjoy the sweeping tarmac as it plunged back down the 1000m or so back to Bonneval and that welcome lunch appointment. This really is an exceptional climb in exceptional scenery and will live long in the memory.

June 30th 2018: Flamin' June

As the saying goes, phew what a scorcher. The last time I can remember a June like this was back in 1976 when the West Indies and Viv Richards were taking the England cricket team apart for fun and the whole nation bathed in unbroken sunshine for months (or so it seemed). The average temperature for my rides in June will be in the mid to high twenties, and the pleasure of NOT riding with a rain jacket in my back pocket has been palpable and, probably, unprecedented. The sunblock has been working overtime and, for once, my tan lines are not the result of a week in some sunny European destination. Talking of which, Paul and I are off to the Alps in less than 2 weeks now, I just hope this great weather can keep it going at least until we have returned. I know the heat is not to everybody's taste but I for one love it.

After the enjoyment of the Bob Clift ride a couple of weeks ago, there has been plenty of opportunity for a real mix of rides, both social and solo, as well as a thoroughly pleasant trip down to Devon last week where I managed a couple of rides up and around the Teign Valley, one of my favourite places to ride. I also had the chance to ride Old Faithful down to see the chap who sold me the bike last summer so he could see just what I've done to it. Fortunately he approved (phew) and we toasted the continued and rejuvenated life of the 1978 Carlton. Sadly my Skye injuries continue to trouble my fitness, the left knee being the main problem - not helped I have to say by a parkrun attempt last weekend, probably not my best idea. So, no heavy duty riding prior to the Alps as I try to ensure I am in reasonable shape to enjoy the high mountains. Fingers crossed.

Totals for June
Distance ridden: 1003km
Total ascent: 8400m

June 18th 2018: Celebrating Bob Clift

Round these parts, in North West Cheshire, there is one name synonymous with cycle tourism. Bob Clift's unbounded enthusiasm for cycling was responsible for many people taking up cycling and in the early 80s he was asked by Cheshire County Council to devise a Cheshire Cycleway route. His initial route of some 100 miles between Chester and Macclesfield has now developed and grown to become Sustrans local route 70, meandering for some 175 miles round the full extent of Cheshire. Sadly he died in 1993, aged just 56. But his legacy carries on and grows in stature year on year. To celebrate his memory the local CTC group organise an annual ride, the Bob Clift Memorial Ride, with over 200 riders joining it every year to raise a toast. Yesterday was the 2018 edition, starting and finishing in Waverton just outside Chester, and we had signed up, as we have in previous years. It is, without doubt, a cracking event. It is decidedly not a race, nor a sportive. It is a social day out on the bike, relaxed and fun. It is about enjoying the ride, taking in the scenery and, perhaps most important, fully appreciating the cake and food stops laid on specially. And, unlike the average sportive which will charge a small fortune for a water bottle and a medal, the local CTC levy a modest charge (£12) and lay on danish pastries, coffee, beans on toast, more coffee AND a bottle and medal. Oh, and it's all done in good humour with smiles and an encouraging word. There is chatter and banter, and no pressure to start at an unearthly hour. We rolled out sometime after 10.30 and were probably last on the road for much of the day. No-one cared, as long as we were having a good time. And we were. Helen and I were joined by Phil and Barb, plus Sharon and Pam (Pete had done himself an injury a couple of days beforehand and was forced to miss out, though he did turn up at the first food stop for his Danish pastry!). Having signed up for the 50 mile option, the first hour was a bit of a battle as we encountered numerous impatient and less than courteous drivers who did not appreciate the finer points of sharing the road. As the day went on this improved and we settled into a more relaxed mood, aided by a fabulous array of cakes and coffee on display at the first feed stop, the Carriers Arms in Hatchmere. Everybody was encouraged to savour the stop. The crowd of riders enjoying this hospitality summed the day up. Enjoy the ride. And the cake! The next section headed out on some busier roads before taking us past a noisy Oulton Park (where a race was in full flow) and into Eaton where the second feed stop was awaiting our delight. A conveyor belt of willing volunteers were serving up beans on toast, flapjacks and more coffee. A sit down meal in a large hall with dozens of fellow enthusiastic social cyclists – it encourages an exchange of ideas, opinions and views which is never anything other than a pleasure. The best part of three quarters of an hour later we decided we really ought to get on with the ride. The second half of the ride rejoins the Cheshire Cycleway near Peckforton and heads back in towards Chester past Beeston Castle and along the Shropshire Union canal. Although there were no further scheduled stops we felt it only right, and in keeping with the spirit of the day, that we should stop and toast the memory of the man who made all this possible. A cheeky half at the Shady Oak seemed just the ticket, and we relaxed as the drizzle in the air failed to dampen our spirits. The last 10 miles is a gentle meander back into Waverton where the organisers were waiting to log us in, serve up more coffee and biscuits and check that we have indeed had a good day. Oh yes!

June 4th 2018: Old Faithful - my Carlton story

As has been alluded to in earlier posts I acquired an old Carlton bike last summer from a friend, a keen bike collector with, by his own admission, too many bikes on his hands (not sure how that can be!). With a penny farthing, an old bone shaker, and some more modern 1930s machines, he certainly has an eclectic collection. The 1970s Carlton was languishing in his garage and he felt I could offer it a good home. A small amount of cash change hands and the Carlton was mine. Now all I had to do was rebuild it and make it a thing of beauty once again.

Inspection showed that a number of items would benefit from replacement, whilst some would probably scrub up with attention. After stripping the whole bike down I was left with a frame and forks and the dilemma of what to do. I rather wanted to repaint the frame and some research led me to Argos Cycles in Bristol where I discussed my ideas at some length. I had found a rather lovely paint scheme on an old 1970s Colnago after scouring the internet one evening, a magnificent blend of red, black and white and this is what we used as the basis for the Carlton frame. We pinpointed the manufacturing date of the frame to around 1978 and sourced the appropriate decals to decorate the finished article. They gave me a timescale of 3 months (they are very busy) which would mean it would be ready just in time for Christmas. In the meantime I set about sourcing some of the bits I wanted/needed for the rebuild.

Of course, eBay can be a great marketplace for such things and I soon found an old Brooks B17 leather saddle, along with a new seatpost and a shorter stem. I also wanted some toe clips, a bottle cage and some Weinmann brake levers (the originals were in a pretty shocking state), again all this came from eBay. By Christmas I had most of the bits and the repainted frame was ready for collection so off I went down to Bristol to pick it up. What a wonder to behold. The rusty silver frame from before was transformed, and with new headset and bottom bracket bearings was race ready! It is not a cheap process, but I have to say Argos had done a wonderful job. I think I was in love!

Winter came and went and in the spring, as the days lengthened I settled down to rebuild the Carlton, a very pleasurable project with no set timescale. The spring weather was shocking in any case, so there was no overwhelming hurry. Many an hour was spent with a tin of Brasso shining up the chrome parts on the bike ready to refit, and slowly the bike began to assume the appearance of actually being a bike again. Final bits were new brake and gear cables, and a new chain and she was ready.

It was an anxious moment when I finally got everything together, made sure the weather forecast was dry, and set out for Old Faithful's maiden ride. In my youth I had owned a similar machine which I used to ride on many a long journey, youth hostel trips and days out with mates. I confess I had forgotten just how smooth the ride is on a steel frame and despite the conservative gearing (12-22 on the back, 52-42 on the front) it tackles climbs fairly well, though I probably wouldn't want to go to the Alps or the Lake District on it. The bike required a few tweeks and minor adjustments but other than that all seemed good. Old Faithful was race-ready, and the decision was made. It would be an ideal bike to take on the Bob Clift Memorial Ride (more of which to follow).

May 29th 2018: That was the Giro, Baby

Well, that was quite some Giro d'Italia. I am just about catching my breath after a bit of a roller coaster three weeks in which the result was really never quite certain until the very end. Whatever your views on Team Sky and Chris Froome nobody can deny that this was a spectacular race. For much of the race it seemed to come down to a two horse race between Simon Yates who rode incredibly for 2 and a half weeks, and Tom Dumoulin who does what Tom Dumoulin does and rode to his strengths. Yates was brilliant in the mountains, dancing away from his rivals seemingly at will until he finally cracked during the last week. His team were not really strong enough to give him the support he probably needed and, in the end, lack of experience of being in the position of challenging for his first Grand Tour probably counted against him. Tom Dumoulin was equally brilliant, but in a much more steady manner. He knows how to pace himself and with the race within his grasp managed to keep Yates in his sights. What neither of them probably expected was Chris Froome's resurgent form in the final week as he rode into form. That seemed a long way away after his pre-race crash and he struggled to overcome his injuries during the first two weeks. A dazzling solo victory on the fearsome Monte Zoncolan suggested a return to form was not far away but even after a strong time trial which saw him climb to 4th, the chance of victory seemed a long way off. What nobody could have predicted was his brilliant and audacious ride to victory on stage 19 when he launched an attack on the difficult Colle del Finistere, some 80km from the finish and stayed away as his rivals hesitated and failed to work coherently together. Indeed, the only rider who seemed to have any ambition for victory was Dumoulin but he was isolated and those around him were more intent on their own final positions rather than reeling Froome back in. It was the race-defining moment and suddenly Froome was in the maglia rosa and never relinquished it. It made for amazing theatre and demonstrated that there is so much more to Chris Froome than the stereotypical metronomic style that he is so often saddled with. Next up is the Tour de France which now promises to be quite a race.

After our splendid Cheshire Cycleway trip over the bank holiday weekend there was a danger that May would be anticlimactic. After such a miserable winter and spring, the weather finally came good proved to be better than anyone might have expected. Temperatures regularly in the mid twenties and plenty of sunshine (and sunblock) made for plenty of enjoyable rides in shorts and short sleeves with scarcely the need to even carry a rain jacket. After a couple of weeks it was hard to remember just how grim the early months of 2018 had been. And my new addition to the team the refurbished Carlton has now been commissioned and taken out for those all important first rides. It is a joy to ride, smooth and comfortable as only steel can be, though the gearing does make it not the first choice for a hilly route. A few tweaks here and there as the bike and I got used to each other, there will hopefully be plenty of dry days for me to enjoy the company of Old Faithful (in deference to Graeme Obree's famous bike) through the summer.
Totals for May
Distance ridden: 1156km
Total ascent: 8670m

May 8th 2018: Riding the Cheshire Cycleway

The Cheshire Cycleway is a bit of a classic, devised back in the 80s I believe by Bob Clift, a stalwart of the local cycling scene. Sadly he died some years ago but his legacy has become a must-do ride in these parts. I rode the route, Sustrans local route 70, some 3 or 4 years ago on a rather fine September day, raising a bit of money for a sight charity along the way. It was always my intention to go back and do the route with Helen at a more leisurely pace and a couple of months or so ago we made the decision that we could fit it in over the May Day bank holiday weekend, taking 3 days over the journey. We co-opted friends Pete and Shaz to the team and I came up with an itinerary, sorted out the accommodation and away we went. At the last minute we were also joined by Andy and Lynne, the more the merrier in our view.

The first day, a Saturday, saw us head out from Sandiway to join the route just below the village of Norley. Today was definitely the tough day, with the big hills and some tough gradients along the way. The first part, though is gentle enough and we rolled along in the morning sunshine toward Knutsford and a first coffee break at Tatton Park, So far, so good. Saturday morning in east Cheshire can be a tad frenetic as motorists tear around the country lanes of Mobberley and Wilmslow and we found the next stage a bit busier. Eventually we got off the bigger roads and wound our way through to Alderley Edge and the first categorised climb of the day's ride, Artist's Lane which took us up to the Wizard (and a welcome spot of lunch). This is a nice climb, not too steep and not too long, what I would call sporty! It certainly split the peloton, but we regrouped and settled down to some food in the beer garden in the sunshine. Thereafter comes a rolling and predominantly downhill section to the leafy village of Prestbury (where the footballers live) and on to Bollington. It is here that the nature of the ride takes on an altogether harder nature as we headed up into the Pennine hills below the Cat and Fiddle Pass. It is lovely countryside, but hard on the knees and lungs. Blaze Hill, the second categorised climb and decidedly more Cat 1, rises steeply out of Bollington and the team were split asunder. The views were a distraction, especially on a beautiful spring afternoon, and eventually we all regathered high up on the moors and caught our breath (and rested some weary limbs for a moment). Down past Lamaload Reservoir where the young lambs gambolled delightfully in the fields alongside us, we then hit the next climb, Ankers Knoll Lane, a monster due to the most appalling road surface and some horrendous 25% gradients. Now we were proving that they are indeed pushbikes that we are riding as we groaned and muttered our way up the awful slopes. At the top the views were again jawdropping, and the cameras were out again. Now came probably the most delightful part of the whole ride (all 3 days of it) as we dropped down the valley east of Shutlingsloe toward Wildboarclough. The gradient is gentle and the road (and accompanying stream) wind steadily down to another stop, the Crag Inn where we indulged in a welcome cheeky beer before the last categorised climb of the day up the steep haul south of Shutlingsloe up Nabbs Road. With now very tired legs this proved to be almost too much for the team as we ground our way to the summit, and again enjoyed splendid views out over Cheshire. Glorious. And now for the descent. The last 20km were (relatively) easy and eventually we rolled into Gawsworth and made our way to the Premier Inn where we were staying the night – after a much needed top-up in the pub next door. Great day, hard day.

Day 2 was an “easier” day as it didn't include any of those monster climb from day 1. To offset this I extended our mileage from 95km to 115km – much to the horror of the team. We awoke to find another glorious sunny day, uncharacteristic for bank holiday weekends. An early start, we rode down to MartoIt wasn and stopped for breakfast at the wonderful Chapeau! café. It was a nice way to start the day. Of course, we stopped for far too long, that's often the trouble with coffee stops! We eventually got going again and amst immediately encountered a road race on our route, a moment of excitement as we nearly got caught up in it. After this it was rolling Cheshire lanes as we headed generally south toward first Congleton and then Audlem. The heat of the day was growing, but it was generally lovely riding. At Audlem we had planned a stop in the Old Priest Hole coffee shop but this was pretty crowded and we wanted to enjoy the sunshine so we opted for a pub garden instead. Another prolonged (but enjoyable) stop put us way behind the clock, with still many a mile left before our scheduled overnight in Hoole. So we cracked on, piling on the miles but the team was by now flagging in the heat. At Tilstone we opted for a stop at the newly refurbished Carden Arms, by now sunstroke was the danger with still some 30 hilly kilometers to go. Undeterred the team continued, up over the Sandstone Ridge and down to Beeston and the Shady Oak. This was turning into a pub crawl! The last leg was on very familiar territory, the bikes could almost ride themselves and we finally rolled into Hoole at about 7.30, some very tired legs for some of the team, but elated at covering a long day. Time for a bottle of wine and the odd beer to set us up for the last day.

Day 3, definitely an easier day. Just 75km today, and the "flattest" of the lot as we took in the Wirral then back onto the Cheshire Plain over the Sandstone Ridge in Delamere and the finish. We opted for a decidedly leisurely start, heading out on the Chester Greenway, out past Net's and up to Parkgate, home of some famous ice-cream parlours. It would, of course, have been rude not to so we queued with the masses and enjoyed a fast-melting ice-cream cornet in the bank holiday sunshine, gazing out over the salt marshes of the Dee Estuary. All very idyllic. Now came, for me as navigator-in-chief, the tricky bit as we had to negotiate our way through the backstreets of Ellesmere Port. Probably not the most scenic part of the Cheshire Cycleway, it does have a certain industrial heritage with its proximity to the Manchester Ship Canal and the Shropshire Union Canal, as well as the undoubted eyesore that is Stanlow. The route out of Parkgate took us along the old railway that makes up part of the Wirral Way, and this was very pleasant with the trees offering welcome shade. The refurbished old railway station at Hadlow Road was a delight. Once safely through Ellesmere Port we picked up the canal towpath for a few kilometers before turning east onto the west Cheshire Plain, roads we are so familar with these days. The clock was ticking so we headed for Meadow Lea, ironically not 4km from home, for a late lunch. Very welcome, very enjoyable - and again far too long! All that remained now was 20km or so out through Delamere and finally down the hill from Norley and across that finish line that we had crossed a couple of days previously. In total we clocked up about 285km over the 3 days, with some tired legs but elated souls. It had been a cracking ride in great company, well worth the effort and planning. All I have to do now is put together the DVD of photos and videos!

May 1st 2018: To the End of the World

As the start of the 2018 Giro d'Italia fast approaches there is a semblance of anticipation in the air, tinged by uncertainty as the continuing Salbutamol saga continues to cloud the UCI's horizon. Chris Froome is on the start list and is very definitely targetting the race, although there are a few riders who hope to spoil that party. The nightmare scenario would be if Froomey does indeed win and become the first rider in the modern era to hold all three Grand Tour titles simultaneously, only for the salbutamol case to go against him. The dilemma for all concerned will be what then? In the meantime, let's hope we can at least enjoy a fascinating edition of the fight for the esteemed maglia rosa.

April has proved to be a fun month on the bike, with a number of rides around the Cheshire countryside. The week of amazing summer weather in the middle of the month will stand out for most, as temperatures hit the high twenties over much of the country and (finally) there was a chance to wear shorts and short sleeved jerseys. Then as unexpectedly as it had crept up on us it had gone and we were plunged back into winter with the full winter kit a necessity for many rides. What is it about our weather? Anyway, along the way I did get a few longer rides in and feel gratified that my summer legs are at last beginning to take shape (apart from the lack of any tan, that is). The highlight was undoubtedly a solo effort out to the Berwyns and a meander along the spectacular Panorama road above Llangollen to the steep gradients of the World's End climb (close to the Horseshoe Pass) and up onto the Llandegla Moors. It was a glorious day for it, and I savoured every moment of it. Today I headed out for a long day checking out the northern section of the Cheshire Cycleway which we shall be riding with Pete and Sharon this coming bank holiday weekend - the weather looks set fair too. The mission was successful, with the obligatory lunch stop in Tatton Park where the curried parsnip soup outdid the rather dry chocolate cake - good to see I've still got my priorities right. Perhaps the nicest thing was seeing all the bluebells which are now making a welcome appearance, always a sight to signify the end of winter. We hope!
Totals for April
Distance ridden: 808km
Total ascent: 5615m

April 11th 2018: Classic Cobblers

Another season of the cobbled classics has drawn to a close and there has been plenty of debate, drama and some classic bike racing. Paris-Roubaix has, until now, been Peter Sagan's missing link. He has rarely competed in the race, and when he has his performance has been less than stellar. 2018 saw him make amends in some style. Launching an attack from the peloton with 54km to go, he chased down the breakaway and proceeded to ride away with only the Swiss unknown, Silvan Dillier, for company. In the end the two rode into the Roubaix velodrome comfortably ahead of Niki Terpstra in third place and it was probably a foregone conclusion as Peter Sagan comfortably beat Dillier in the sprint for the line. It is rare for the World Champion to win Paris-Roubaix, and somehow fitting that Sagan should do so with some panache. In the other major classic, the Tour of Flanders, Dutchman Niki Terpstra made his move 45km from the finish and comfortably held off a chasing bunch to win the 2018 edition, ahead of Mads Pedersen and last year's winner Philippe Gilbert. Again, a victory with panache. On the downside, there was a rather questionable decision by the race commissaires who disqualified Luke Rowe for riding on the adjacent bike path, a manouevre that he would have been hard-pressed to avoid as he was blocked by spectators and took evasive action in the heat of the action. Now we await the Ardennes Classics, with baited breath.

Returning from Mallorca, as usual I seemed to have acquired a virus (air travel leaves a lot to be desired at times) and this meant that I was reluctant at times to venture forth. The Sunday following my return, we were booked on to the thoroughly enjoyable, exceedingly well-organised local Cycling UK Spring Trial, a 50 mile bimble round the country lanes of the Cheshire/Welsh border, with nibbles and social interaction high on the agenda. We were joined by Pete and Sharon, and Phil and Barb, and proceeded at a leisurely pace, comfortably finishing last. Fortunately, they had saved some cake for us and we didn't go short. It is such a lovely event, and we are already looking forward to next year.That apart, it has been a handful of shorter local rides, plus a couple of enjoyable social outings with Helen, and Pete and Sharon. All good preparation for our forthcoming 275km Cheshire Cycleway tour, which we plan for the May Day bank holiday weekend - weather permitting. This will be a reprise of my solo one-day outing a few years ago, but we shall take it a bit easier this time, riding it over three days instead of one. Should be fun.

Totals for March
Distance ridden: 1305km
Total ascent: 14170m

March 23rd 2018: The Fellowship of the Big Ring

The Mallorca class of 2018 was a mixed bag. The weather was decidedly downbeat, with cold northerly winds blowing all week, at times so strongly that staying on the bike was difficult for some, and we suffered one washout day when the rain compared to Calpe 2017. In spite of this I managed some time on the tidy Koga hire bike every day of our stay in Port de Pollenca, managing a barely credible 625 kilometers over the course of the week. Given my scant preparation and lack of bike time in 2018 this felt like a real triumph. True, I did come home tired, but my fears that I would be short of energy proved unfounded.

The Koga Kimera hire bike proved to be a very tidy machine, smart to ride and with good handling, not dissimilar to my bikes back home. The fact that there was no need to go through the tiresome rigmarole of packing and unacking and building my own bike was a real bonus and worth the potential risks of riding a bike which was not my own. Yep, it proved to be a good companion for the week, enjoying both the climbs (of which there were many) and, more pertinently, the descents which are always fun.

In spite of the cold weather, which meant more time in winter gear than shorts and shirts, the riding was good. Our team was somewhat depleted, we numbered just 8 this year, but it was a good crowd and made for some enjoyable group riding. A short evening ride up the lanes to Pollenca on our arrival to check the bikes out was followed the next day by a major mountain outing to the inimitable Sa Calobra, arguably the most iconic road descent on the planet (a big claim, I know). At this time of year there are very few coaches to contend with, however some roadworks half way down were a rude interruption to what is a delightful descent. Instead of heading own to Sa Calobra itself we took the left fork to the quiet bay of Cal Tuent, a secluded spot away from the madding crowd, surrounded by dramatic high mountain walls. Of course, what goes down must come up and we now had the long climb back up the Coll del Reis, always enjoyable despite the pain. The views down the numerous hairpins make it worthwhile, although the winds made it interesting!

The following day was bright if windy, and the team, now renamed as the Fellowship of the Big Ring in deference to certain team members who insisted on keeping it in the the big chainring, sought the haven that is Petra, a cyclist's mecca. Amazingly we actually got there early enough to earn a table at one of the many outdoor cafés in the central square for which the town is world renowned. Very pleasant it was too, enjoying a coffee and lunch in the warm sun, sheltered from the persistent wind that was becoming a feature of our stay. Thereafter it was a gentle winding route back through the mountain foothills via the lovely Campanet valley. A fine day. And the nex day was another biggie, this time I chose to ride solo out into the mountains via Lluc and on to the steady climb of the Coll d'Orient, a delightful hidden valley up in the mountains above Alaro. From here it was on over the bumpy Coll d'Honor, a road which makes our potholed roads look positively great, and unusual by Mallorcan standards, before a descent down to Bunyola and a welcome lunch. What followed was the dscovery of the old Ruta del Muro, a lovely old road which pings along eastwards to the town of Muro and, with the help of a friendly tailwind was quite, quite enjoyable. I finished up in old Alcudia enjoying a coffee in one of the old town squares as the day drew to a close, and wth nearly 140km in my legs by the finish I was ready for a rest day.

Which is what the next day, Tuesday, was. The forecast was bad, the weather was worse. The rain rained, long and hard, and the wind blew, long and hard. It wasn't nice - I braved the worst to do a slow jog up and down the promenade in Port de Pollenca before Kev and I wandered into town for a very leisurely lunch. By which time it had more or less stopped raining, so I succumbed and headed out on the bike for an hour, pootling down the country lanes to Alcudia and Pollenca.

After the rain, the wind. Wednesday saw winds which kept many in the hotel cooped up all day long. The Fellowship are made of sterner stuff and chose to ride inland, away from the worst of the wind, taking in a coffee stop in Campanet before a mix up separated me from the rest of the crew and I spent the next 2 hours chasing them through the Mallorcan hinterland before finally tracking them down in old Alcudia, just in time for a cheeky beer and some welcome lunch. Once again I chose a meandering route home, away from the winds, a wise choice as the rest of the Fellowship rode at 45 degrees as the off shore winds battered them along the Alcudia seafront. It was a wild, wild day.

Our last day was a bit calmer, still windy but actually not too bad (we get worse at home, after all), and the sun was shining. The team headed through Campanet again before tackling the lovely Sa Batalla climb to Lluc, a lovely steady climb full of twists and turns and some amazing views nearer the summit. At Lluc we reprised our coffee stop of earlier in the week, mixed, of course, with the obligatory cake, before the stunning descent off the Coll de Femenia to Pollenca and lucnh in the sunkissed, windfree square at the foot of the Roman steps. This was what we had ordered - beer, sunshine, food and companionship. We loved it. All that remained now was the traditional ride out to the Formentor lighthouse, a stunning ride if tough with some 900m of climbing packed into the 40km. The camera worked overtime and we savoured a fine finish to an enoyable week.

March 13th 2018: Best ride of the year

And so, with just a few days before the Team Geriatrics jets off to the sun (?) of Mallorca I finally find my self having had a decent ride this year. As the latest weather forecasts suggests Siberian air pushing down into the Med next week (just bloomin' typical) we have enjoyed an almost balmy spring-like day today with temperature squeezing into double figures and, dare I say it, even a touch of luke-warm sunshine. As the rain is due to return tomorrow I took full advantage and headed out for a longish day in the saddle. A decent Mallorca-esque climb seemed appropriate so I went west to the sinewy slopes of Sunspot, a 7km climb up to the Llandegla Moors, challenging enough for winter legs and with a slight headwind. There were vestiges of snow piled at the side of the roads up on the moors, a reminder that winter is never far away in March. This is followed by a swooping descent back down through Welsh villages to Rossett and Holt and the welcoming Cleopatras café where, after 50km or so it seemed a timely place to refuel. Sitting outside it was all rather pleasant. I followed parts of the Cheshire Cycleway next down to Malpas then east across the Plain to Delamere and a second stop, this time for cake at the Station Café, 98km down and legs beginning to tire. The final leg was the 20km home and a welcome cup of coffee to celebrate. I think I might just be ready for Mallorca now - I just hope they've got the forecast wrong and it turns out to be in the mid twenties (I might be a tad optimistic there!)

March 1st 2018: The Beast from the East

As the Beast from the East arrives to bring us all to our knees it is perhap;s a good time to reflect on a sluggish start to the year on the bike. February was better than January as I finally managed to fight off the chest infection that blighted my January. Snow and cold has kept me away from the bike for over a week now and, with Mallorca only a fortnight away, I find myself wondering what sort of form I might expect when we arrive in the Balearics. I hear they have had snow too, so the idea that we shall be enjoying warm weather is far from certain. A lengthy ride a week or so ago was refreshing, even in the wind and cold, although I was fading by the time I got home. The other highlight was a pleasant enough ride round the gentle undulations of the Northants-Bedfordshire border as we spent a couple of family days down south, a chance to revisit some of the roads from last year's Quattro sportive. At the moment it is hard to know where my next ride is coming from, so I am resorting to my running shoes which is desperation indeed, although I have enjoyed a couple of parkruns which are always good fun, even in the freezing cold.

Meanwhile, the 2018 season is gathering some momentum, with British riders getting some racing in. Chris Froome has returned after his AAF which continues to dominate the headlines, finishing comfortably in 10th in the Ruta del Sol, whilst Cav enjoyed his first race victory for a year before crashing out with concussion in Abu Dhabi a week later. The spring classics are almost upon us, though this year we might be better to call them winter classics! As I write the World Track Championships are underway in Apeldoorn and Team GB have just secured their first gold in the Mens Team Pursuit with a storming ride from a new look team, although the evergreen Ed Clancy still holds it all together as new talent comes through. And Jason and Laura Kenny are back, Jason winning silver in the Team Sprint and Laura through to the final of the womens Team Pursuit. There is some pretty tough competition and the racing has been pretty exciting.
Totals for February
Distance ridden: 573km
Total ascent: 3480m

February 14th 2018: Oh, where is the sun?

I have to confess I feel a bit like a scratched record, playing the same mantra over and over. But where, oh where is the sun? 2018 has thrown some awful wintry weather at me over the first 6 weeks making any time on the bike precious - and a scarce resource. Add to that a stinking cold which brought me to my knees in early January and from which I am still trying to recover and the story is looking bleak so far. Well, it would be nice to think it can only get better.

Significantly I have now relocated to Cheshire, at the end of January. As I managed a final few rides up in Cumbria I folund myself getting all nostalgic as I rolled round those familiar Solway lanes, and reflecting that I will not miss the shocking potholed roads, nor the mud that the tractors seem to delight in spreading across that part of the county. Down in Cheshire it is so much better - the potholes are slightly fewer and the mud considerably so. I shall miss the views however, and the quiet lanes which it is so easy to take for granted. This cold has meant that my energy reserves have been pretty minimal, the only (metric) century ride I've managed was hard work, not a good sign with Mallorca now only just over 4 weeks away. And I have kept to mainly flat rides since arriving in Cheshire, concentrating instead simply on time on the bike when I can. One highlight was a ride up the River Dee last week which coincided with a Beluga Whale cargo plane landing at the Airbus site just as I was riding by - how on earth do they fly?
Totals for January
Distance ridden: 277km
Total ascent: 2300m

January 23rd 2018: Photo highlights of 2017

As last year, this is a great opportunity to have a quick look back at some of the highlights of last year, and photographs provide an ideal medium to do so. The slide show below gives a snapshot of some of those highlights from 2017. Enjoy!

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