Tucked well under the duvet dreaming of sunny landscapes I felt a tap on my shoulder... I shrugged it off and dived deeper into sleep and more sunshine. Just as I was about to tuck into a delicious strawberry flavoured ice cream, Italian ice cream, I heard a distant voice calling... Sabina’s, “You’re leading Andy’s ride today and you’ve got ten minutes to get ready!” Confusion and panic flooded my system. In an instant the beaches of Italy were a distant memory. Reality struck hard and in horror my eyes stared at the sheet of grey and never-ending drizzle beyond the pane of glass. I needed to stir myself into action... “cometh the hour cometh the man” I told myself.
I rolled out of bed, SAS style, onto the floor... I scrabbled and searched for my thermals; somewhere under the bed I remembered. With surprising and impressive speed I was down by the front door, still trying to pull my non-waterproof cycling jersey over my head which had managed to get stuck. With one firm downward tug Sabina helped and my alarmed head popped out through the collar opening. She was ready, impeccably dressed, weatherproofed, all calm and eager to get going. I on the other hand... and then a shuddering alarm rippled through my nervous system and I heard myself calling out “Garmi! Garmi!... where’s Garmi!?” Sabina saw the panic in my eyes and as ever brought sensible controlled calm to the situation. “Garmi is fully charged... I found him this morning among your pile of socks on the floor... if you remember that’s where you chucked him after our last ride, you said ‘he can dry off there’...” I ran over to Garmi, gave him a prod and to my delight he made that reassuring buzzing noise as he awoke. And there was Andy’s ride. Garmi rarely lets me down... a burp or two and he was ready to go. Sabina, on her bike, was patiently waiting on the road. Together all three of us rode to Elevenses; Whetherspoons in North Cheam.
I was damp and welcomed the pub’s warmth. The riders were there tucking into hearty breakfasts, full English, porridge and so forth. Little did we know then how much that nourishment would be needed later in the ride. I passed a wall mirror on my way out to the parked bike and caught a glimpse of a mop of grey hair and what looked like an old Victorian bristle brush stuck on the end... it's always a bit of a shock to see myself as others must see me... I was determined not let that be a trigger for midlife crisis number 150 since my retirement three years ago. That in turn reminded me of the shinning ultra-light carbon drop handle road racing bike I had seen in the shop window last week, “the Ferrari of all bikes” the blurb on the side had read and my heart filled with a lovely warmth... I would need to persuade Sabina to my way of thinking but that would be for another day.
I was impressed by the good spirits and cheery demeanour of my fellow riders. The day was determinedly overcast, grey and just itching to let rip with a flooding downpour. “When the going gets tough, the tough get going” and I smiled heartily as I repeated this to myself. On our bikes we got and it wasn’t long before my thoughts ventured onto ‘The Magnificent Seven’... there were seven of us I think or anyway around that number give or take. I pondered on which character I would choose to be and so my mind drifted. As we rode along with Garmi providing excellent direction in accordance with Andy’s route I dwelt on the difficult subject of which was the greatest Western ever made; it was a hard-fought contest between ‘Unforgiven’ and ‘Shane’ and perhaps a subject for discussion at our lunch break. In the meantime, in my head, the debate went on.
It’s true, the roads were wet, there was no sun in the sky and grey was the colour of the day. Nevertheless, it wasn’t cold, there were beautiful autumnal yellows, golds and reds dotted here and there, the rain drops reminded me of shinning pearls not to mention the brave bird song I could hear every now and then. Above all we were on our bikes fighting the good fight against the elements. We were due a thunderous reward of a hot traditional English winter’s meal. A roast of some sort, I fancied some lovely roast beef, with Yorkshire pudding, ever so tasty gravy and peas... and yes by Jove, roasted parsnips and brussels and warm Irish coffee to cap it all off. And as we turned the corner, wheeling through soggen leaves we arrived at the Midday Sun in Chipstead. We were all in for a real treat... life was good.
“An hour she said... an hour before any food would be coming!” Was it my imagination or was I seeing thick angry steam starting to rise from my weary companion riders and faces all starting to turn in my direction but not in a friendly warm welcoming way I thought. Sabina remained stoically calm... I on the other hand... “I’m off to the toilet” I quavered.
And there he was, just before the ‘Gents’ sign, smiling down at me, Ray Mears*, beckoning me to take courage and follow his example. I was filled with new resolve... this was the opportunity for a new and exciting experience for us riders... an hour of hunting for edible berries in the wild. I returned to our table and immediately realised that the situation was desperate. I had to get us out of there and get their minds focussed on something, anything, but their hunger pangs... berries wouldn’t cut it.
Back on our bikes and Andy reminded me that we had two rather vicious climbs ahead of us and ought we to pre warn our fellow riders. I imagined the reception I would get at this sombre announcement. My mind flipped through Dale Carnegie’s “How to Win Friends and Influence People”. “No” I replied, “Best not to tell them!” I felt myself shudder and jumped on my bike and shot on before anyone could ask any questions about where we were going and when would thet be getting any food.
First Purgatory on the upward slope of How Lane followed by Hell on the ever-steep ascending Park Road. The rain spilled on our backs. Despite these medieval tortures my fellow riders showed true grit and guts as they pedalled with distinction and tamed these brutes of nature. And we were rewarded for our efforts because after that, bar a blip or two, it was all downhill to our final destination the Cafe in Cheam Park. There with a calming rhythmic beat the rain splashed on the metal Ping Pong table and it didn’t seem to matter to us when we discovered that the Cafe was closed. We had completed a great ride with some tough climbs on a day of downpour. We had a sense of accomplishment, achievement even. There would always be cake and coffee at home. We were riders and this day brought out something ageless in us... a glowing, warm, never say die spirit.
Led by Garmi with some support from me
My co riders were Andy C, Chris, Steph, Rob, Keith, David W (for part of the way) and Sabina
ROUTE DESIGN, ANDY C
*Ray Mears was born in Purley - Ed
