Sunday 11^th November

Herts and Essex’s Lanes

The mornings all week so far had been mild, overcast and damp with dew. This would have been perfect for this morning’s ride; however this was not to be.

 I had been awake for most off the morning, lying in bed waiting for the alarm to go off, like a kid waiting to get up on Christmas morning. With the alarm finally ringing I got up went into the kitchen and made my breakfast. I could already tell the morning was going to be cold.

 As the sun lit the morning sky there was only 3 tiny fluffy clouds some ways off in the distance in an otherwise perfect ice blue sky. The roofs, sheds, trees and lawns were laden with a heavy frost, almost snow like. It was going to be cold.

 As always the choice of what to wear was hard. I knew the morning, first thing, would be very cold but as the day progressed I knew it would get warmer. I got dressed and headed off into the waking frosty morning. I had only ridden a matter of yards before my visor had fogged up. Lifting the visor saw my eyes start to cry, the frosty morning air cutting into my cheeks and face. The short ride to the pickup point was only about 8 miles, but I wasn’t even half way when the cold had worked its way through my gloves and my hands started to freeze. I raced to the rendezvous point my face now locked in place, frightened to make any facial expression in case it would shatter, like in the movies. The exhaust is great for warming those frozen hands. As they thawed it felt like someone had gotten a hammer and hit each of my fingertips hard. They hurt and as they warmed the pain got worse.

As I waited for my lift the morning sun started to warm the earth the frost started to go and I eventually began to warm up. The lift arrived on time, the bikes where loaded and we were on our way.

Several of the riders had called to say they couldn’t make it, I knew the guys I would be riding with today and they’re all fast. This would keep me on my toes and give me a push. I love the first lanes from Baldock they’re generally flattish, long and fast. What I hadn’t accounted for was the now heavily dew covered long grass. That at the slightest twist of the throttle would send the rear of the bike fishtailing out of control. Sometimes it felt like I should have been riding speedway. These first lanes start to build that confidence which is nice to start the day on. As the lanes leave Baldock and head past Royston they lose their smooth grassiness and start to throw up some nice simple ruts, once again introducing them gradually, building and reconfirming that confidence. But soon those building block lanes soon disappear. Ok some of the lanes are gravel and give good grip as do the newly graded lanes with their freshly laid recycled road planning’s. But then there are the lanes that lay thick in a chalky, clay slurry slip pier than an eel in a baby oil factory. With some of the other lanes resembling the trenches from the Battle of the Somme.

 

 

This brings me back to the date of our ride, November 11th, Remembrance Day. We had just finished what I would class as the easier part of the days ride and fought our way over a large fallen Ash tree. Checking our watches we initially thought we had over run and missed our two minutes silence to pay our respects to those who have fought and fallen for us. Knowing my watch gains time I double checked with my phone which revealed we still had a couple of minutes to go. At 11 o’clock I heard a canon sound the beginning of our time to reflect, respect and remember. The only sound was the singing of the birds and the gentle breeze blowing through the autumn leaves. As I watched the golden leaves flutter to the ground I thought of all those that have fallen for us. A second canon fire broke the peace; we spent a little while longer in reflection before, firing up the engines and carrying on with the ride.

 

As we continued with our ride I started to remember some of the lanes from a couple of previous rides. The uphill climb where  two CCM’s had a head to head, the cross rutted lane where a friend crashed and had to be airlifted to hospital because of a broken pelvis, and the lane where another friend had a very close call with a very large tractor. These where some of the more memorable ones.

 

 It was now well after lunch and we had reached the furthest point we had every gone to whilst ridding these lanes. This confirmed to me our pace of travel had been quicker than normal. We were now to increase our route deeper into Essex. Adding a circular extension before returning back to the start. These new lanes were a nice mixture, some rutted and muddy whilst others were flat with a golden carpet of autumn leaves, through wooded lanes and open fields. Our loop completed we started the ride home, but even at the quicker pace I had my doubts we would make it back before sunset.

I was now tired, I was still enjoying the ride but had to slow my pace or I knew that something might happen. The return journey saw me lose my momentum through the rutted, wet and slippery lanes and on several occasions I had to stop, recompose myself before continuing. Once I got out of line or had to sit down because of getting thrown by a rut, I found it hard to regain my composer and stand back up on the pegs. I’d try but no sooner was I standing than the next rut or dip would have me back on the seat. I also had two small slow speed offs, both on corners where the front wheel just washed out.

We were now heading back toward Royston with the worst, or best of the lanes, whichever way you want to look at it, behind us. But the day was coming to its end and dusk was upon us. The fast lanes which were confident building at the beginning of the day now had their own set of problems. The sun was now low in the sky causing long shadows. But with no cloud the autumn sun was bright and at eye level. One second you’d be blinded by the sun the next flung into darkness. Even once behind the hedge the flickering sun made it almost impossible to see. We were also running low on fuel most, if not all of us were on reserve. So the decision was made to going into Royston itself to fill up. Whilst taking on the fuel I noticed that my number plate bracket had snapped off and my plate was missing.

 

 We all on reflection decided it would be unnecessary dangerous to continue ridding the lanes back to where we started. So instead took the opportunity to jet wash the bikes off and road ride the last few miles back to the van.

All in all a great day