A low turn out this week for a myriad of reasons. Alan couldn't get out of football, Simon couldn't get out of Oswestry, Mark couldn't get out of work, Paul couldn't get out of his sick bed and Ian couldn't be ar*ed.
The intrepid survivors of Big Al, Ron and Chris braved the autumnal chill for a 50 mile loop from Wrexham to Maesbury via Blodwell bank, stopping off at the traditional watering hole to imbibe fine teas and partake of the Treflach sausage.
Tuesday, 20 October 2009
Tuesday, 13 October 2009
Off the Back Archive - 12/05/07
12/05/07 - Rhos - Ruthin - Denbigh - Tweedmills Cafe - Bodfari - Cilcain - Llanarmon - Rhos
Woke up bright and early this morning (its always bright & F**king early with the crapi's) for my comeback ride. God my legs were still hurting from Thursday's ride - to replicate the feeling get someone to hit both thighs with a ten pound lump hammer for say five minutes.
I nearly didn't recognise Ron with his new Pinarello, he's only ever had his stylish 1970's Starsky & Hutch styled bike whilst I've known him. Coupled with this season's Discovery kit he effortlessly walks off with the best turned out rider category.
The usual "we'll take it easy today" and "lets go steady" are bandied about by the others. They all say these things every week and it doesn't have any bearing on the subsequent ride. I now believe they are playing an elaborate game of bluff with each other - poker on a bike (which is a lot more difficult than it sounds!!).
By the time we've reached the water towers at Legacy I'm seriously considered turning off in Coedpoeth to go home. The others effortlessly spin up the back way to Minera whilst I grind a couple of inches off my teeth with the effort of keeping up. By the time we've climbed up through Bwlchgwyn my quads are in full scale revolt and I am regretting not bringing the rosaries to aid my prayers. Then miraculously the pain starts to subside & coupled with Matinee Robbo's pointed gesticulations I take my place in the bunch & take my turn on the front. Maybe this won't be so bad after all............
At the top of the Nant y Garth the heavens opened and its like riding down a river blindfolded. The only way I can see is to perch my glasses on the end of my nose and peer over the top of them al la Larry Grayson (though, I'm sure you'll be disappointed to learn, this was not coupled with the hand on the hip). Once clear the Garth we tottle along merrily to the outskirts of Ruthin where Matinee puts the hammer down and goes up the last drag at 22mph. He said later "my computer wasn't working" - this is another oft used phrase when one of them wants to let everyone know how well they are going - "I didn't think I was going that fast, it felt easy". Sometimes I could cheerfully put a stick through his front spokes!!
The crapi express races through the countryside like the well oiled (god I wish I had been) machine it is (and not, as some have mentioned, like an anaconda after a particularly heavy meal). The obligatory headwind is there but doesn't seem to slow us down. I'm still taking turns on the front and looking like a proper rider, maybe it won't be so bad after all......... Somewhere just outside Denbigh, physiologically, something went clunk & the quads began to remind me that they really were VERY sore. On the last stretch to the cafe at Tweedmills the Matinee idol asks for the pace to be lifted and slowly but inevitably I begin to slide "Off the Back".
Now the rest of the lads will tell you that they don't bother racing for signs or any of that other stuff that takes place on some club rides. They indeed don't but once the cafe's in site Chris, Matinee & Flatulance (aka Le Patron - Flatulance copyright of Mrs Matinee, all rights reserved) are off. Ron tails off slightly but as he's moved about 16 tonnes of earth this week, he's building a patio, its understandable. Reports that the patio is a cover for Ron's plan to make a fortune by reopening Bersham colliery in his back garden is unconfirmed at the time of going to press.
Le Patron orders beans on toast and teas all round, "Do you want salad luv?" "We'll have whatever you've got" replies Al thinking he's getting it gratis. Bl**dy hell the salad costs more than the beans on toast! Still it was very nice. Hopefully now we've refuelled I'll be alright for a bit.
Once through Bodfari the road just seems to go up and up, a continual drag, the others are spinning effortlessly and chatting away whilst I'm seriously wondering whether I'll need dentures by the time we've finished. I am now in full blown grovelling mode where every turn of the pedals hurts and every slight increase in tempo is agony, god knows how Ronnie is coping after his mining exploits. Eventually we turn off for Cilcain and Flatulance comes out with another of his patented catchphrases "there's a lot of drags on this so take it steady". To be fair they are taking it steady but that's still far to fast for me, every climb sees me fumbling for bottom gear like an overexcited schoolboy reaching for the tissues.
By the time we hit the Mold - Ruthin road its left to Le Patron (aka flatulance) to tow my sorry hide towards Llanarmon. He said first thing that he reckoned I owed him about 480 miles - after today I probably need to tow him 550 to even things up (sorry Al but my back won't take it!!). I probably owe all of them about 700 miles on the front so looks like once I retire from cricket at the end of this season I'll be spending my remaining days on the front of the peloton.
Eventually I crawl past the Liver pub and we make it back to A525 just above Bwlchgwyn. This decent is another one that seems to "flick their switches", soon I'm hanging on the back screaming into Coedpoeth at over 30mph. By the garage my big end goes and I have to ease back (very gingerly!). Everyone regroups for the last tottle into Rhos. The other four are explaining to each other how they didn't get dropped at various points on the descent, rather it was their choice. I'm wondering how many days it'll be before I can walk up stairs again. There is one last, short drag which kills me. The others, who don't race of course and are not at all competitive, take off like greyhounds out of a trap. These unseemly scrums really don't become them. But I'll let you into a secret, me and every other Lantern Rouge out there are secretly jealous. We long to be fit/good enough to be in the mix and, dare I say it, win the sprint to the top one day - just don't tell the other four!
Back at Le Patron's its teas all round (a bit like me). I can't believe how much my thighs hurt. Why do you do it I hear you cry, because now a few hours later I can honestly say I really enjoyed it. Maybe I'm just lucky to go out with a great bunch of lads who put up with my frailties and never abandon me on the road. For that lads I am very grateful. Chapeau
Woke up bright and early this morning (its always bright & F**king early with the crapi's) for my comeback ride. God my legs were still hurting from Thursday's ride - to replicate the feeling get someone to hit both thighs with a ten pound lump hammer for say five minutes.
I nearly didn't recognise Ron with his new Pinarello, he's only ever had his stylish 1970's Starsky & Hutch styled bike whilst I've known him. Coupled with this season's Discovery kit he effortlessly walks off with the best turned out rider category.
The usual "we'll take it easy today" and "lets go steady" are bandied about by the others. They all say these things every week and it doesn't have any bearing on the subsequent ride. I now believe they are playing an elaborate game of bluff with each other - poker on a bike (which is a lot more difficult than it sounds!!).
By the time we've reached the water towers at Legacy I'm seriously considered turning off in Coedpoeth to go home. The others effortlessly spin up the back way to Minera whilst I grind a couple of inches off my teeth with the effort of keeping up. By the time we've climbed up through Bwlchgwyn my quads are in full scale revolt and I am regretting not bringing the rosaries to aid my prayers. Then miraculously the pain starts to subside & coupled with Matinee Robbo's pointed gesticulations I take my place in the bunch & take my turn on the front. Maybe this won't be so bad after all............
At the top of the Nant y Garth the heavens opened and its like riding down a river blindfolded. The only way I can see is to perch my glasses on the end of my nose and peer over the top of them al la Larry Grayson (though, I'm sure you'll be disappointed to learn, this was not coupled with the hand on the hip). Once clear the Garth we tottle along merrily to the outskirts of Ruthin where Matinee puts the hammer down and goes up the last drag at 22mph. He said later "my computer wasn't working" - this is another oft used phrase when one of them wants to let everyone know how well they are going - "I didn't think I was going that fast, it felt easy". Sometimes I could cheerfully put a stick through his front spokes!!
The crapi express races through the countryside like the well oiled (god I wish I had been) machine it is (and not, as some have mentioned, like an anaconda after a particularly heavy meal). The obligatory headwind is there but doesn't seem to slow us down. I'm still taking turns on the front and looking like a proper rider, maybe it won't be so bad after all......... Somewhere just outside Denbigh, physiologically, something went clunk & the quads began to remind me that they really were VERY sore. On the last stretch to the cafe at Tweedmills the Matinee idol asks for the pace to be lifted and slowly but inevitably I begin to slide "Off the Back".
Now the rest of the lads will tell you that they don't bother racing for signs or any of that other stuff that takes place on some club rides. They indeed don't but once the cafe's in site Chris, Matinee & Flatulance (aka Le Patron - Flatulance copyright of Mrs Matinee, all rights reserved) are off. Ron tails off slightly but as he's moved about 16 tonnes of earth this week, he's building a patio, its understandable. Reports that the patio is a cover for Ron's plan to make a fortune by reopening Bersham colliery in his back garden is unconfirmed at the time of going to press.
Le Patron orders beans on toast and teas all round, "Do you want salad luv?" "We'll have whatever you've got" replies Al thinking he's getting it gratis. Bl**dy hell the salad costs more than the beans on toast! Still it was very nice. Hopefully now we've refuelled I'll be alright for a bit.
Once through Bodfari the road just seems to go up and up, a continual drag, the others are spinning effortlessly and chatting away whilst I'm seriously wondering whether I'll need dentures by the time we've finished. I am now in full blown grovelling mode where every turn of the pedals hurts and every slight increase in tempo is agony, god knows how Ronnie is coping after his mining exploits. Eventually we turn off for Cilcain and Flatulance comes out with another of his patented catchphrases "there's a lot of drags on this so take it steady". To be fair they are taking it steady but that's still far to fast for me, every climb sees me fumbling for bottom gear like an overexcited schoolboy reaching for the tissues.
By the time we hit the Mold - Ruthin road its left to Le Patron (aka flatulance) to tow my sorry hide towards Llanarmon. He said first thing that he reckoned I owed him about 480 miles - after today I probably need to tow him 550 to even things up (sorry Al but my back won't take it!!). I probably owe all of them about 700 miles on the front so looks like once I retire from cricket at the end of this season I'll be spending my remaining days on the front of the peloton.
Eventually I crawl past the Liver pub and we make it back to A525 just above Bwlchgwyn. This decent is another one that seems to "flick their switches", soon I'm hanging on the back screaming into Coedpoeth at over 30mph. By the garage my big end goes and I have to ease back (very gingerly!). Everyone regroups for the last tottle into Rhos. The other four are explaining to each other how they didn't get dropped at various points on the descent, rather it was their choice. I'm wondering how many days it'll be before I can walk up stairs again. There is one last, short drag which kills me. The others, who don't race of course and are not at all competitive, take off like greyhounds out of a trap. These unseemly scrums really don't become them. But I'll let you into a secret, me and every other Lantern Rouge out there are secretly jealous. We long to be fit/good enough to be in the mix and, dare I say it, win the sprint to the top one day - just don't tell the other four!
Back at Le Patron's its teas all round (a bit like me). I can't believe how much my thighs hurt. Why do you do it I hear you cry, because now a few hours later I can honestly say I really enjoyed it. Maybe I'm just lucky to go out with a great bunch of lads who put up with my frailties and never abandon me on the road. For that lads I am very grateful. Chapeau
Off the Back Archive - 14 April 2007
14th of April 2007
Really looking forward to this ride then "the patron" emails the route. Suddenly it doesn't look too inviting - you get flatter rides in the Alps.
Still we're off, I feel quite perky on the way to Ruthin, almost take a turn on the front until Ronnie hurtles past - obviously it wasn't meant to be!! Leaving Ruthin the hills start and the others are away - like four whippets and me struggling to chase them down like an asthmatic Newfoundland. God its hot, why am I the only one sweating? Still the leg from Cerrigydrudion to Corwen is fairly flat so maybe that won't be so bad...........
I'm still not sure what happened on the A5 apart from all hell breaking loose. All other road users were left flailing in a dust storm followed by the lonely tumbleweed (me of course!!). The temporary lights at Padog bends offer no respite as they change just as we arrive, oh goody! The crapiwheeler express barrows through, keeping pace with cars and then accelerating down the hill on the other side. I can no longer feel my legs!!
We eventually reach Corwen for the cafe stop. I dismount with all the style and aplomb of Jimmy Saville after a heavy night. My legs seem to be moving to some internal Shakin' Stevens soundtrack and I have no control over them. The stop overruns whilst Paul (our dashing matinee idol - he always dashes to the toilet as soon as we pass one!!) has apple pie for desert.
We start again and someone seems to have swapped my legs for a pair of rubber ones. Chris (who the hell let him have an even lighter bike - should be made to ride a butcher's bike!) and Paul are soon pulling clear (Maybe Paul needs the toilet again). Al & Ron slowly but surely leave me behind (or was it for dead?) With the aid of a long wait involving 3 games of chess, two of ludo and a quick burst of I-spy I catch up and we all enter Llangollen together.
Slowly, inevitably the elastic snaps between Llan and home - it’s a combination of me going slower and the rest finally deciding I'm not going to get any better. Left to my own devices I feel better and even, I imagine, put the hammer down a bit (Before you say anything I know, I know but allow me the escape of fantasy please!). I hurtle into Rhos like a runaway tortoise, I am very glad to be out of the saddle!
Everyone else has done their weekly shop by the time I get back but they are very kind and don't mention it. Naturally they are all appalled that I can't make next week's ride and show their disappointment with silence and playful smiles..........!! They'll be sorry when there's no one there to keep the pace nice and slow.
Seriously guys have a great ride next week and all you readers out there in cyber land be kind to all cyclists - one could just be the "lantern rouge".
Really looking forward to this ride then "the patron" emails the route. Suddenly it doesn't look too inviting - you get flatter rides in the Alps.
Still we're off, I feel quite perky on the way to Ruthin, almost take a turn on the front until Ronnie hurtles past - obviously it wasn't meant to be!! Leaving Ruthin the hills start and the others are away - like four whippets and me struggling to chase them down like an asthmatic Newfoundland. God its hot, why am I the only one sweating? Still the leg from Cerrigydrudion to Corwen is fairly flat so maybe that won't be so bad...........
I'm still not sure what happened on the A5 apart from all hell breaking loose. All other road users were left flailing in a dust storm followed by the lonely tumbleweed (me of course!!). The temporary lights at Padog bends offer no respite as they change just as we arrive, oh goody! The crapiwheeler express barrows through, keeping pace with cars and then accelerating down the hill on the other side. I can no longer feel my legs!!
We eventually reach Corwen for the cafe stop. I dismount with all the style and aplomb of Jimmy Saville after a heavy night. My legs seem to be moving to some internal Shakin' Stevens soundtrack and I have no control over them. The stop overruns whilst Paul (our dashing matinee idol - he always dashes to the toilet as soon as we pass one!!) has apple pie for desert.
We start again and someone seems to have swapped my legs for a pair of rubber ones. Chris (who the hell let him have an even lighter bike - should be made to ride a butcher's bike!) and Paul are soon pulling clear (Maybe Paul needs the toilet again). Al & Ron slowly but surely leave me behind (or was it for dead?) With the aid of a long wait involving 3 games of chess, two of ludo and a quick burst of I-spy I catch up and we all enter Llangollen together.
Slowly, inevitably the elastic snaps between Llan and home - it’s a combination of me going slower and the rest finally deciding I'm not going to get any better. Left to my own devices I feel better and even, I imagine, put the hammer down a bit (Before you say anything I know, I know but allow me the escape of fantasy please!). I hurtle into Rhos like a runaway tortoise, I am very glad to be out of the saddle!
Everyone else has done their weekly shop by the time I get back but they are very kind and don't mention it. Naturally they are all appalled that I can't make next week's ride and show their disappointment with silence and playful smiles..........!! They'll be sorry when there's no one there to keep the pace nice and slow.
Seriously guys have a great ride next week and all you readers out there in cyber land be kind to all cyclists - one could just be the "lantern rouge".
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