The Windmill Cycle Club

A fine gathering of 15 Windmillers assembled at The Swan in Clare for what turned out to be a treat of a ride through exquisite Suffolk lanes. Planned originally by Keith, Simon wisely chose to do a repeat of the ride as it had been so popular previously. The weather was once again fabulous and the gentler pace of life in Suffolk was noticeable.

Those setting off in 3 groups at 09.30 were Simon, Martin B (welcomed back from Durban and celebrating a recent big birthday), Graham, Andrew, Howard, Rod, Keith, Victor, Brian, Geoff, Tom, Maurice, Alan, Nigel et moi. Ken joined us for lunch after starting the ride a bit later.

Heading out of the beautiful village of Clare we were soon in whisper quiet lanes with hardly a car or white van in sight. One of the first of many villages we passed through was Ovington which caught the eye of yours truly as the Sussex village where I lived in my youth was Ovingdean. There seems to be an Anglo-Saxon connection of both to Ufa’s people, or more likely Offa, the powerful King of Mercia who ruled from 757 to 796.

Catching up Group 2 quite early on gave Group 3 the opportunity of having a breather in the village of Belchamp St Paul where Simon insisted on climbing the village sign:

And then another ‘beautiful field’ came into view, this time Belchamp Walter which was indeed very picturesque:

The next stop was Borley where yet another fine church was seen through an amazing topiary pathway:

Cycling up the side of the River Stour it wasn’t long before the A1092 came into view which meant a quick dash to the Willow Tree Farm Shop where we enjoyed good coffee, a best ever cheese scone and excellent service, made better still by being able to sit outside in glorious sunshine:

If the hills on the first leg were a bit tough at times, the second leg put them into the shade – a long stream of ups and downs through wonderful countryside with far reaching views at times. A total climb for the ride of 500m. Who said Suffolk was flat?

Back at The Swan, after quenching thirsts in the garden, an excellent lunch was served when we celebrated the big birthday of Martin B who kindly bought a large round of drinks – thanks Martin, and good to have you back.

Thanks to Simon for organising a splendid ride and to photographers including Graham and Brian. And well done to Graham and Victor who rode to and from Clare, in preparation for Graham’s forthcoming 100 miler in June.

This is where we went:

Martin W

The warm weather of late has produced a record showing of knobbly Windmiller knees very early in the year. The photo above of Tom (hiding his from view), Simon, Alan, Andrew, Paul, Nigel and yours truly was just for starters at The Fox & Duck in Therfield as others joined the ride at various points on the route, also displaying an assortment of knobblies some of which might be better hidden from view.

Rod planned the ride to acknowledge that Ivan Titmuss, the landlord of The Fox & Duck, was moving on and this would represent a farewell from The Windmill Club. Ivan and his staff have looked after us very well over many years and we hope that the future management will be equally good.

Setting off in sunny but initially chilly weather, with non-knobbly Deborah, Maurice and Graham also in the group, the route took us via Reed and Barkway before picking up Gareth in Shaftenhoe End, the first of several of those who joined en route. Howard was next in Great Chishill and then several were met at the half way stage at Compass Courtyard – Ken, Brian and Victor.

The Mixing Shed Café at Compass Courtyard is fast becoming a very popular half way stop for coffee – excellent coffee, cakes and good service. What more could hungry and thirsty Windmillers desire? It’s also home to a fantastic bakery making an assortment of sour dough loaves. And if you haven’t tried their hot cross buns go there and fill your panniers; they are simply the best ever. (In case you’re wondering yours truly is not an influencer in receipt of free buns in return for plugging them.)

The return leg took us throughArkesden, Clavering, Meesden, Ansty and Barkway before crossing the A10 once again and heading back to Therfield.

Ivan was not behind the bar of The Fox & Duck but we asked the staff to wish him well. As usual an excellent and filling lunch was enjoyed by all.

Thanks to Rod for planning and organising the route. This is where we went:

Martin

Cock-a-doodle-do!

I sprang out of bed cock-a-hoop at the thought of such fine weather for a Thursday ride this early in March. Cock-a-doodle-do went next door’s rooster. I thought, this word is a fine example of onomatopoeia. My bacon sizzled, my cereal went snap, crackle, pop and I looked forward to clunk, click (every trip). The latter being a lovely example of onomatopoeia combined with assonance. Anybody would think these advertising executives have done English degrees and, unlike most of the students, were actually listening.

This early in the morning my darling wife looked fetching, using a pillow for a hat, with her palms firmly pressed over her ears. I thought this was probably because of the rooster’s antics. Or maybe she is anticipating this morning’s first lecture “A comparative study of onomatopoeic usage in English and Spanish (part 1)”

All this was soon forgotten as we assembled at the Cock at Hen(ham) with the prospect of a fine day for cycling. In the garden the weathercock was set to fair. We all had coffee, except Deborah who cocked-a-snook at this tradition and chose tea instead. Andrew studied the menu hoping for cockles as a starter, but they were unavailable. Unfortunately, the soup was tomato and basil and not his preferred cock-a-leekie.

After coffee and before riding, gentlemen of a certain age all visit the bathroom. However, all reference to cock has been deleted from this section of the blog by the Windmill Club Censors.

By 9.30 Group-1 (Maurice, Rod, Ken, Andrew, Victor, Rick, Brian and myself) was cocked and ready to go. I kept an ear cocked so as to be ready for when my group set off. I asked Brian if I should join group 1, he cocked his head in affirmation.

This was the route

We went anti-cock-wise.

As I cycled, I mulled over the symbolism of the thrice crowing cock. It is associated with events of great import and of the need for repentance. This relates to the biblical story of Peter’s denial of Jesus (Matthew 26:34, Mark 14:30, Luke 22:34, John 13:38).

Our neighbour’s cock often crows three times. The pause is then tense. When it resumes and issues some more, any thought of my need for redemption fades from my mind. It crows like its life depends on it. That would be especially true if it were my cockerel. My actions would then require quite some redemption.  

Andrew’s chain came off during the ride. The chain was a bit long and on the smallest cog looked a bit cockeyed. He thinks it is necessary to remove two links. Both he and Maurice were nearly caught out by a particularly bad pothole right in the middle of the carriageway during this outing. These need pointing out when on a club ride. Though there are so many at the side of the road it has become near impossible to call them all out.

The second group was comprised of Graham, Geoffrey, Alan, Charles, Deborah, Howard, Neil, Gareth and Keith. The two groups met for coffee at the Blue Egg and we all sat together in the sunshine.

Group 2 stopped at the Rectory Ponds at Little Easton where Howard tried recording and identifying bird song using his phone.

They spotted a duck with a fishing lure attached near to its eye and Kieth reported it. The reply from the angling club was a bit unhelpful. One might expect a fishing bailiff to have excellent eyesight, and so it proves. Apparently, the lure has ‘Made in Poland’ printed on it, though my eyesight is too poor to make this out.

It’s an upsetting image so I am using Graham’s of another duck to adorn our blog.

I note male birds of any kind are called cocks, the females’ hens. This nomenclature is a little cumbersome when referring the male woodcock, as a cock woodcock. With a little more global warming a think peacocks and cockatoos will be a common sight around inland ponds.

The route was far from a cockamamy idea and proved ideal for the day. There were no cockups in the arrangements, as might be expected for a Graham ride. Both groups arrived back in time for their pub lunch. All that remained to do was to enjoy some beer in the spring sunshine, while listening to the usual poppycock and cock-and-bull stories.

At this point you can vote. Was this a good blog or a load of cock?

I remind you that it can be both.

You know the weather has taken a turn for the worse when Simon’ aka ‘The Professor’, abandons his trusty khaki shorts in favour of long trousers. However, despite the drop in temperature and the possibility of some hail, snow and rain, the promise of birthday beers courtesy of Maurice plus Pat’s famous homemade pies ensured a good turnout of 12 riders (it would have been two more except for Ken’s puncture and Geoff getting a back twinge, neither of which prevented either of them from attending lunch).

We followed a familiar and favourite route from Abbington Piggots to Waresly, but this time the pre-coffee leg of the ride was into an unfamiliar cold Northerly breeze. Because of this and to ensure a timely return to the Pig and Abbot, Maurice cut the route slightly short by eliminating the loop north of Gamblingay Cinques. There were no dissenters.

And so it was that, after placing food orders and topping up on coffee and croissants, two groups eventually set off from Abbington Piggots.

There was some discussion as to the etymology of the name of the village of Guilden Morden through which we passed. A quick scan of Wikipedia unearthed the following tit bits:

The name is derived from the Old English “Gylden More Dun”, meaning “Golden” (rich or productive) “Moor Hill”.

The parish of Guilden Morden is in the very south-western corner of Cambridgeshire, separated from Hertfordshire and Bedfordshire by one of the Cam’s many tributaries. The area has been occupied for at least 2000 years with the Saxon village probably built slightly after its neighbour; Steeple Morden, from which it has been separate since the Norman Conquest. The Guilden Morden boar is an Anglo-Saxon copper alloy figure of a boar, found in a grave in the village around 1864. Not to be confused by the ever so slightly younger bores found in the village last Thursday.

For group 1, it was a fairly uneventful ride from here around the outskirts of Potton and onto the Garden centre café at Waresly. Group 2 did not fare quite so well, with Deborah (or at least her bike) sustaining a nasty puncture, possibly due to some broken glass on the road. Despite the best efforts of the ‘Slime’ self sealing innertubes, the ‘fix’ only lasted as far as coffee. Some tyre cuts are just too severe for self-sealing technology, it seems.

A welcome tail wind brought us to Hatley St George in the picturesque 730 Ha (1800 acre) Hatley Estate. The Hatley Park estate has been owned by the Astor family snce 1946. (Second geography lesson courtesy of Andrew, AKA “Dawg”).

No time to dally, however. Angry clouds full of rain and hail were looming behind. By the time group 1 reached the newly re-surfaced Croydon Hill, the hail had hit and it was full speed ahead back to the Pig and Abbot. Group 2, having a puncture to contend with, didn’t escape quite so much of the downpour.

Back at the pub, there was time to steam in front of the fire before the aforementioned pies, a rendering of “Happy Birthday” to Maurice and Roger and a fond adieu to Roger, who is on the move to Fakenham. Hopefully his companionship won’t be entirely lost to the Windmill Club.

Martin, Graham, Rod, Simon, Deborah, Victor, Howard, Maurice, Andrew, Roger, Paul, Neil,

All week, the talk has all been doom and gloom in the world: The increasingly nationalistic stance of countries; the upsurge in misinformation through social media; the apparent alignment of Trump and Putin against the (mineral rich) Ukraine on the edge of Europe; little sign of reconciliation in Gazza. The world lurching towards apparent crisis …..

Thursday, at least, provided a welcome respite from the doom and gloom for the Windmill club. Their own little bubble that day contained only sunshine, good company, good food, snowdrops and daffodils, talk of puppies and welcome back professor. Crisis? What Crisis?

16 riders congregated at what has become a firm Windmill favourite: The Red Lion at Great Sampford offering Italian style pasta cookery and fine beer. With many white knees on display, two groups of 5 and one group of 6 headed off in a South Easterly direction in the direction of Great Barfield.

Here group three encountered an unexpected traffic jam near the narrow bridge. The combination of numerous of parked cars, a HGV heading one way and a tractor with an enormous trailer in the other plus a few increasingly frustrated car drivers provided a brief source of entertainment. No particular rush for us, enjoying the sunshine.

On our way again and even the oft wet and dilapidated Waltham Cross road was kind to us.

A surprisingly up and down stretch up to Great Yeldham followed. Some slight discord (but only slight) was sensed once it became apparent that it was still a little way to coffee! The coffee and cake stop was well over half way round the route at the newly extended Tarka’s café at Baythorne End. The new extension meant the café was even busier than usual and so we settled ourselves in for a leisurely break.

A relatively short (but hilly) return leg passed without incident and the time lost at the cafe was soon made up for a timely beer (outside in the sunshine) and lunch stop.

There aren’t many venues where the majority of riders opt for a main menu choice rather than a sandwich option but the pasta and risotto dishes here proved irresistible ride recovery fuel to many.

Thanks to Maurice for organising this ride and laying on the perfect riding weather.

Martin, Geoff, Brian, Graham, Rod, Charles,Tom, Simon, Deborah, Victor, Howard, Maurice, Nigel, Andrew, Alan, Roger

Crisis? What Crisis? is the fourth album by the English rock band Supertramp, released in 1975. Personally, I don’t think its anywhere near their strongest work.

Plan A was for a nice easy flat route around Essex lanes with a Huffer for lunch at The Compasses in Littley Green. But with many on holiday or otherwise engaged Plan B emerged at short notice which also enabled numbers to increase from 7 to 11. The result was a mountainous route devised by The Right Revd Holy Moley which produced outbreaks of Climb Every Mountain from The Sound of Music at times during the ride, but the nuns were more in tune:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RKuqySkqhHw

Setting off from The Pheasant in Great Chishill at 09.30 without the promised coffee beforehand but on a reasonably mild day compared to recent rides, two groups headed initially for Elmdon for the first climb of the day up Hollow Road towards Freewood Farm where the Jersey bull and heifers have been replaced by another breed – Devons or Red Polls or something in between? Not sure.

Stopping firstly to see the sad remains of a recently burnt out house in Elmdon due to an electrical fault, which caused a fatality, Group 1 then paused again on Freewood Lane to inspect the site of a former windmill where only a mound now exists. It probably blew over given the strength of the winds on the ridge at this point.

Descending from Elmdon at speed, the next mountain to climb was up to Littlebury Green where Group 1 again stopped to catch breath and admire the nature reserve created by Windmiller Simon T and chums from an old chalk quarry – heaving with fauna and flora and well worth a visit the next time you’re passing by. The little corrugated iron church is interesting too – an original Ikea style flat pack similar to those sent overseas to preach the gospel to the heathens.

Hill Bastardo was the next in line but this time a descent to the B1039 before the climb up to Saffron Walden and another climb towards Debden when a large herd of deer were spotted by eagle eyed Maurice. A further climb towards Carver Barracks ended with a much needed rest for coffee at Elder Street Café and Deli who gave us a warm welcome and served great coffee and cakes.

The route back continued the theme of the outward leg – hills, hills and more hills until the final mountainous climb up to The Pheasant from Shaftenhoe End. This involved once again squeezing past a road closed section at Langley Lower Green but it was good to see some of the lane being patched up, particularly the steep descent to Little Chishill.

Lunch at The Pheasant is always pleasant and this was no exception. It was good to be joined by Ken who had done his own bit of climbing from Ickleton.

This is where we went up and down:

Thanks to Charles for most of the photos and a special mention of Ric who probably clocks up more miles than the average Windmiller by always riding to the start of a ride from Harston, and on a bike without much of a climbing gear. Well done Ric.

Rev Holy Moley

Heads down, mind the puddles, mind the potholes and don’t get blown over was the order of the day on this ride around Hertfordshire and Essex lanes. Even getting to the start at The Catherine Wheel in Gravesend near Albury was tough going for some due to road closures and flooded roads but at least there was a nice warm cup of coffee to spur the spirits before setting off at 09.30.

Did any of that deter Windmillers? Not a chance. 14 hardy types gathered to brace the elements and it was great to have Rach join us again after a long absence due to injury. Welcome back! Besides her, the others were Maurice, Graham, Ric, Andrew, Rod, Howard, Nigel, Geoff, Victor, Jeremy, Alan, Charles and yours truly.

Setting off in two groups in a northerly direction with the wind behind there was soon a difference of opinion as to which route to take – group 1 obeying the rules and avoiding the road closed through to Stocking Pelham whilst group 2 tried their luck and found an obliging road worker who shifted the barrier and let us through. Then we continued north to Duddenhoe End via Clavering before descending to the B1039 and having coffee at the excellent Compass Courtyard Mixing Shed café.

It was only after the cofee stop that the full effect of the wind and rain was really felt. Starting with a long haul up to Newland End, which probably took 10 mins compared to the 2.5 mins achieved by racing cyclists during summer weather, the route then passed Ann Currie’s sculpture barns and grounds where many rounded specimens could be seen through the hedgerow – well worth a visit when her exhibitions are on show, (and fibre glass casts being available for purchase at Compass Courtyard). Then it was through to Arkesden, Wicken Bonhunt and another long haul up to Rickling Church when a pause was made for some to don wet weather gear.

From Rickling onwards it was hard going – strong wind on the nose and driving rain at times resulting in Group 2’s decision to avoid the loop out of Manuden and to proceed directly to Hazel End, despite the potholes and heavy traffic on this stretch of road. The final stretch westwards was easier and then a blissful downwind mile or so to the Catherine Wheel completed the ride.

Lunch was excellent, as usual in this fine pub, and good conversation was had around a large convivial table.

Thanks go to Maurice for planning the route, to Andrew for distributing it and Charles for some of the photographs. In normal circumstances the ride would have been glorious, but such are the vagaries of English weather……

Martin

‘An “anticyclonic gloom” which has brought dreary grey weather to the UK is set to finally subside, with sunshine making a welcome return.’ This is what Holly Bishop of GB News said on 11th November 2024, which just goes to show that you can’t believe everything you hear on GB News.

The endless grey skies and cold weather indeed continue, resulting in some Windmill rides having to be cancelled, but we were fortunate to have a dry day on this albeit cold ride organised by Jeremy, and there was even sight of some blue sky at one stage, and so we can’t complain too much. It’s just English weather and it will improve, according to Holly Bishop.

Starting from the Duxford Community Centre, ten hardy Windmillers took part. Besides Jeremy, the others were Rod, Howard, Nigel, Ric, Alan, Andrew, Roger, Deborah and Martin W.

The mathematics of group numbers once again proved a bit of a challenge for Windmillers not knowing their 5x table resulting in Group 1 setting off with initially four in tow until a fifth caught up. Whilst waiting with Group 2 this reminded Martin of a Robert Maxwell story who once asked the senior partners of three top accounting firms bidding for his business what 3+2 came to. Two of them said 5 but the guy who won the business asked ‘What figure did you have in mind, sir?’.

Jeremy’s route took us through Whittlesford, Little Shelford, Hauxton and then towards Trumpington Meadows where some fine hedge laying was taking place before the M11 bridge. In Grantchester, there was a loud shout from Andrew at the rear of Group 2 as everyone ahead had missed the turning down a bridle lane and back over the M11 towards Barton. Then it was pretty straightforward through Comberton and Toft, passing over the Greenwich Meridian Line and soon arriving at the very warm and cosy café, The Stove, in Bourn for coffee.

The return leg took us back via Harlton past one of Ken Worthing’s famous off road Friday evening 40mpg rides (beer not petrol) taking the bridle way to Barrington with Lawrence Wragg, John Bagrie and others. This resulted on one occasion with someone falling into some blackberry bushes and yours truly doing the same through laughing so much and breaking a rib in the process.

The only event in Harlton on this ride for Group 2 was another loud shout from Andrew, this time with a detached chain. Fortuitously, this happened outside a house with this notice in the window, which got the onlookers talking whilst Andrew attended to his bike with some help from Rod:

Harston was next, followed by Newton and then back to Whittlesford where it was good to see a fine display of snowdrops, and if you fancy seeing a lot more just head for Chippenham Park near Newmarket.

Back at Café 19 in Duxford Community Centre, well ahead of schedule, a good lunch was enjoyed by those staying.

Thanks go to Jeremy for organising an excellent ride. Let’s hope this marks the end of the gloomy weather but if it continues maybe this will cheer you up: It was a dark and gloomy day and to make it worse I ate all the cheese in the house. Ain’t no sunshine when cheese gone.

Martin

A day of weather contrasts, leaving home in fog and wondering what the day would bring, the sun appeared past Reed and The Golden Fleece was was bathed in golden light. We gathered in the bar too a warm welcome from Jess and Peter and free coffee, what was not to like.

Jeremy was warmly welcomed, to tell us of his adventures in Antarctica, although he had travelled in style. Clearly modern Antarctic travellers are not hewn from the same cloth as those earlier adventurers, such as Scott or Shackelton. Should cruise ships be allowed in the pristine world of Antarctica, shouldn’t we be satisfied with armchair travel. Why risk an ecological disaster?

The sun was still shining as we departed, in two groups, for the ride, was all that warm weather gear needed, time would tell. Into Puckeridge and the first of the Road Closed Ahead signs, fortunately not on our track. Crossing the ever busier A120, we headed onto the quieter lanes, with only the usual gravel, water and mud to contend with. Making steady progress as the sunshine slowly dwindled and before long we were back in a damp gloom, winter gear was required. Our coffee stop was the Old Brewery Tearooms in Walkern, voted Hertfordshire’s best independent coffee shop. The warm welcome for coffee more that made up for the gloom outside.

The downside to the coffee stop is that there is not a lot of space inside, not usually a problem as we can use the marquee outside, but not on a cold winters day. So we had to spread ourselves around the vacant tables. not helped when another group of cyclists arrived, but the staff and customers are understanding on the needs of cold cyclists. When group 1 left not all were ready but our Leader decided the stragglers were capable and would catch-up, we did eventually!

An uneventful ride back, although again the dreaded Road Closed Ahead sign appeared, this time it was closed and only a diversion up a grass bank got us round the blocking vehicle, all in a good cause though, pot hole filling. Many more to go though, but I think slowly they are winning the battle.

However, group 2 had a less easy return with both Deborah and Roger puncturing, as a result Group 1 were well into their meal before the others returned.

Back to the pub and birthday boy Jeremy, of Antarctic fame, bought the beer. Thanks Jeremy.

The riders were, in no particular order: Maurice, Howard, Nigel, Paul, Ken, Andrew, Deborah, Jeremy, Alan, Roger, Charles, Rod.

Widespread chaos was forecast and rare red weather warnings had been issued for Friday. Storm Éowyn, pronounced “ay-oh-win” (and definitely not to be confused with the Tolkein character Eowyn, meaning “horse-joy”) – was destined to bring gusts in excess of 180km/h (110mph) to parts of Scotland and Ireland.

Therefore it was with some trepidation that thirteen riders assembled at the Black Bull in Balsham on the Thursday morning, hoping that the weather would hold off until past lunchtime. Even without the onset of the storm, a morning temperature of 3C, possible drizzle and a stiff breeze was daunting enough. Chapeau to Ric and Victor for cycling to and from the pub in spite of this – I’m guessing the post lunch rain put the dampers on the home run ?

Actually it wasn’t quite as bad as expected as we set off down the hill from Balsham. Unfortunately, Tom quickly realised that his new year virus hadn’t cleared up as he’d hoped and decided to return to base (so just the last hill to re-climb ! ). A sensible move – best not to try to rush rehabilitation.

Chilly but steady progress was made along familiar lanes, over the sneaky pedestrian crossing at Horseheath, past the Camps, Helions Bumbstead, Cornish Hall End and the impressive Spains Hall (which I believe is still the Jamie Oliver abode – no sign of him today). With no invitation to Jamies’ forthcoming, we pitched up at Winners cafe in Finchingfield – an old favourite and former Windmill cafe of the year.

Mercifully still dry and refreshed, we set off back towards Balsham, now with a steady tailwind in our favour. The return through Great Sampford, Radwinter, Ashdon and Bartlow went smoothly and without incident and again, in the dry (if you don’t count the wet and filthy road surfaces everywhere).

As with last week, we were the only customers in the pub. Despite that, the hospitality (and Ghostship) were as good as ever. Who would run a pub at this time of year ? Thanks to Maurice for organising and Charles for providing all the pictures. Storm avoided.

Riders: Charles, Graham, Alan, Andrew, Deborah, Brian, Rod, Maurice, Roger, Victor, Ric, Howard, Tom

‘Twas the day after the Windmill Christmas lunch and not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse….

Well actually, the mice might have thought it was too cold and windy to head out, but not us ! We were lured out by the offer of a slightly later start, slightly shorter ride and mulled wine and mince pies to finish.

Maurice and Lynn were hosting from Heath Farm. This meant the ride started uphill to Reed Joint and continued to go up and down hill all the way round. The route took us past Therfield, Sandon, Buckden then back via Barkway and Barley, with the final stretch up hill into a stiff cold breeze to Heath Farm. Closer to 35km than our usual 50km but more than far enough and hilly enough for the day.

Luckily for us, Lynn had been slaving away in the kitchen to serve up wine and mince pies and cream when we arrived back – also cheese and coffee for those in need of something more hearty !

Many thanks, as always, to our hosts and a non denominational “Season’s Greetings” not only to the day’s riders but everyone else that made it another thoroughly enjoyable year of cycling. Raise a glass to your saddle companions and here’s to many more enjoyable outings in 2025. Cheers.

Riders, from blurry memory: Jenni, Debs, Nigel, Neil, Martin, Graham, Alan, Victor, Brian, Ric, Maurice, Charles, Jeremy, Simon, Roger, Keith, Howard, Rod and Iain for pies.

What sane person would choose to cycle on a cold foggy winter day, only a Windmiller. Windmiller’s are built of sound stuff and come rain, shine, frost of fog, on a Thursday morning you’ll find a group of old friends pedaling their local back lanes. This Thursday, as we assembled at the Fox and Duck in Therfield, it was a gloomy foggy morning and we knew that the usual long views as we left Therfield would be lost in the cloud. Lights were needed and those without were advised to pedal within the peloton.

Setting off in 2 groups, group 1 were misled by their leader and took the long route to the Wallington road, group 2 led by Keith, who followed the correct route reached the Wallington turn first. The road was CLOSED but the workmen, understanding that any diversion for cyclist would be unsafe, allowed us through, provided we walked past work in progress. They were fixing the potholes and drains. No cyclist should ever stop pothole filling, any workers doing that need our thanks. It was a pothole that was Graham’s downfall, fortunately he’s now on the mend.

Wallington is famous for being the village where George Orwell lived for 4 years prior to WW2, and the local village church is where he married his first wife Eileen. It was the local Manor Farm that provided the setting for his most famous book Animal Farm, which was set in the village of Willingdon. Although there may still be pigs who walk on their hind legs at the farm, it was too foggy to see any.

For those of us wearing specs, these soon became wet and steamy, restricting visibility and making the fog appear thicker than is was, my excuse for getting lost. Fortunately Martin has found the solution, although how practical these would be on a bike remains to be tested:

Keith identified an alternative solution, although his could prove tricky on some of the narrow styles we had to negotiate:

I digress, back to the ride. Leaving Willingdon, sorry Wallington, the road became a tarmac race track, the smoothest and newest tarmac we’ve seen in the many rides we’ve had this year. Why a very minor road leading to a small hamlet should have such a surface is a mystery, but maybe that’s the future for Hertfordshire lanes.

Pressing on through Baldock the next obstacle was Weston Hill, a long and steep climb, but then a fast run to our coffee stop at Church Farm Ardeley, where Group 2 had already arrived. First to the coffee stop though was Martin, who arriving late at the pub, had taken a more direct route cutting out Wallington and Baldock. He was fortunate to arrive as, as far as I’m aware, he is the first cyclist to collide with a Red Kite, which flew out from a hedge and almost knocked him off his bike. He’ll have had birdies in golf but this must be a first for cycling.

The return to the pub was uneventful, Group 2 taking the plotted route along a gravel trail, Group 1 choosing to stick to the muddy lanes. I must look more closely at what is plotted in future, less rush more care. But Jeremy did say the gravel was good.

A warm welcome back at the Fox and Duck, for what might be our last visit while Ivan is the landlord, he leave the F&D at the end of March for what he says will be some time out after over 12 years at the pub. A well deserved rest.

Considering the day, it was a good turn-out of riders: Martin, Gareth, Geoff, Howard, Jeremy, Keith, Neil, Nigel, Paul, Roger and Rod, with Maurice, Graham and Ken joining for lunch.

Rod – who has yet to workout how to copy the route into a blog!

It’s been a Black week for Windmillers. Other than Black Friday when hopefully some bargains were found, we had Black Ice Thursday which felled four Windmillers resulting in a different kind of Black Friday, plus Black Saturday and Black Sunday for Brian when the bruises appeared from his Thursday fall. But that didn’t stop him riding 26 miles on Monday with his Shelford Spokes group – a man truly made of sterner stuff.

Worst of all, however, was Black Monday for Graham who had a horrific accident near Harlow whilst doing a recce for his planned ride on 5 December, resulting in a blue light and siren rush to A&E to be assessed for his injuries and to be stitched up. It seems a water filled pothole was responsible for throwing him off his bike and landing on his helmet which got trashed in the process – without that it could have been a lot worse. Thankfully he was discharged early on Black Tuesday and was able to join us all for lunch after our ride and to show off his cuts and bruises – another great example of sterner stuff.

And it’s good to know there are still Good Samaritans amongst us. Graham fell outside a guy’s house on a quiet lane and was discovered lying unconscious in the road by his daughter. Together they managed to get him up and indoors where they called the ambulance and cleaned him up as best they could. The guy then delivered Graham’s bruised but not broken bike back to Ickleton a few days later. He deserves a medal.

So it was in a mood of careful riding and thankfulness that there was a short window of dry, mild weather available that 17 Windmillers set off on a hastily but brilliantly organised ride by Jeremy from The Pig and Abbott in Abington Pigotts which replaced Graham’s proposed ride. To achieve a pub booking for such a large number, let alone at the home of Pat’s famous pies, also deserves a medal.

Those riding were Alan, Charles, Deborah (from half way), Geoff, Howard, Jeremy, Keith, Martin W, Maurice, Neil, Nigel, Paul, Ric, Rod, Simon, Tom and Victor. This is where we went:

Setting off in three groups clockwise via Wendy and Croydon it wasn’t long before we reached Wimpole and climbed up to the ridge to enjoy magnificent views towards Barkway and Chrishall, where groups 1 & 2 merged for a while for the obligatory photos:

Descending from the ridge, the route bypassed the Wimpole Hall café and took us through to Orwell, Barrington and Shepreth before smelling the coffee on the outskirts of Melbourn where a high quality stop was made at Hot Numbers, and where Deborah joined us for the rest of the ride:

After coffee the route took us via Meldreth, Bassingbourn and Shingay although it was tempting to take a cheeky short cut in Litlington and get back to the bar first at The Pig and Abbott.

Back at the pub a warm welcome was received as usual from Pat and her staff where it was good to be joined by Graham, loooking better but still a bit worse for wear, and Brian who kindly drove him over. Unfortunately, Brian probably overdid it earlier in the week such that his leg was not quite ready for a 30 mile ride. We wish both him and Graham a speedy recovery from their injuries.

Thanks to Jeremy for planning and organising the ride at such short notice and to assistant photographers Charles and Simon.

Martin

Water is essential for life on earth. What is less obvious is that the almost unique properties of water ice are also essential for allowing life to exist and evolve. With high specific heat capacity, low thermal conductivity and high albedo, surface ice plays a pivotal role in regulating the earth’s temperature and hence climate.

At atmospheric pressure, water freezes to its solid state at a temperature of approximately 0 °C (or lower for salinated water). The heat of fusion of water is 334 kilojoules per kilogram. The specific heat of ice at the freezing point is 2.04 kilojoules per kilogram per degree Celsius and the thermal conductivity at this temperature is 2.24 Watts per metre Kelvin. Most materials contract when cooled but water is different. As water freezes into ice, its molecules arrange themselves into a regular lattice structure through hydrogen bonds. This is more spaced out than in liquid water, expanding its volume by about 9%. This unique property results in ice having a lower density than water, allowing ice to float (and burst water pipes).

The fourteen Windmillers gathering at the Black Horse, Brent Pelham on Thursday morning did not have the wonders of ice uppermost in their minds, however. For them the salient properties of ice at that time were merely: ‘Cold’ and ‘Very Slippery’ and ‘Not a Good Thing’. Indeed, Roger had already suffered a fall whilst cycling to the start.

After coffee and lodging food orders at the pub, riders headed off on one of the minor roads hereabouts – with a well founded degree of trepidation! This trepidation was well founded; the road was a proverbial mine field of semi thawed water and sheet ice. In the space of the next 2km, three riders had succumbed to gravity. Brian having taken a particularly hefty knock to the hip, he and Jeremy sensibly abandoned the riding for the day, whilst Rod soldiered on (I was instructed not to say “hip, hip, hooray” here, so I won’t). Importantly, no bikes were damaged.

A new plan was required ! Just as discretion is the better part of valour, so cowardice is the better part of discretion. We decided to shorten our ride and stick to larger roads where possible, with the new, closer, coffee destination of Dorringtons in Newport proposed. In true Windmill fashion, a split resulted in two different routes to coffee. One group plodded on via Ansty whilst the majority turned tail and headed to Newport via Clavering. Thankfully no further falls. Brian and Jeremy resorted to the car to join us for coffee and cake.

By now, the sun had been on the exposed roads for a few hours, so we opted to turn our route into a circuit by heading to Rickling and Stocking Pelham. Riding was fun again !

Finally back at the pub and joined by Keith and Ken, we were well served to excellent food and beer. If it wasn’t for poor Brian limping around acting as a reminder, we could almost have forgotten the dramas at the start of the day.

The big picture: Ice can be a real downer for cyclists, but without it cyclists wouldn’t exist to start with.

Thanks to Martin for organising the route, even though the script got totally rewritten !

Martin, Victor, Andrew, Geoff, Graham, Rod, Nigel, Jeremy, Brian, Roger, Alan, Howard, Simon, Chris, Charles

Ken and Keith for lunch.

November 14th, another Thursday and I wake up to fog. I draw the curtains, the grass is still growing, the leaves are still on the trees. It’s my son’s birthday he’s 32. I remember the fortnight before his birth only too well. Nottingham had snow on the roads for all of the two weeks before. The ruts were so deep I had to park the car several streets away from the hospital and trudge the rest with two carrier bags. They mostly contained spare clothes, nuts and chocolate. Apparently women in late pregnancy double their calorie intake. Believe me that’s a lot of nuts.

Still this day was warm enough for shorts, just about. I got the bike out but could hardly see the road from the house. Still off to a Maurice organised ride from the Black Bull at Balsham. The fog on the way was even worse than at home.

Driving along I remembered on my son’s 10th birthday, our first in Chrishall, it snowed. His birthday party turned into a massive snowball fight. I’m convinced there is no joy greater than when 10 year old’s engage in a snowball fight. My only regret was I missed much of it while consoling a delicate, weeping boy whose hands were too cold to stay outside. The tears were half for the pain, half for missing the fun. A terrible life-lesson for anyone too sensitive about their environment.

Coffee and a chat in the car park passed the time as the fog gradually lifted.

It was predicted to clear around 10.30. Although they aren’t perfect, I’m sure weather forecasts are better than they used to be. It transpired that they were right this time.

See the fog at the start. Like hovering rain, it stuck to my legs. Yuk, where was that sun.

I set off thinking about how there had been no snow on his 20th or 30th birthday. I started thinking about the Gaia theory (pronounced Ga-ee-ya) In this theory, stuff living on the planet, in the oceans, jungles and everywhere else, interacts with the environment to form a self-regulating system that makes life on Earth possible, by stabilizing the system as a whole. So, you can think of the earth, the whole environment, as very like yourself on a ride, cold at the start, warm after a while and back to normal after half an hour in the pub. A wonderful self-regulating machine.

If you look at the temperature for November in the UK you might see what I mean. The black-dashed line in the picture above is the average, the trend, over 130 years.

Looking at the dashed-black trend line, in 1900 the earth is a bit warm, but by 1920 is back to feeling normal again. This undulation in temperate has been going on for thousands of years. Undulations that return to where you start will feel very familiar to anyone riding with the club. By 1950 it’s getting warm again, but as Gaia theory would predict, all the living stuff on the planet starts to restore normality. However, by 1970 it can’t quite do it, something’s in the self-correction machine is bust.

I’ll leave you to contemplate how thinking of the whole earth as being like a ‘single body’, like yourself, is a bit like a religious belief. After all, many ‘primitive’ religions emphasized one-ness with the sky, the rocks and rivers, being as one with all living and non living things.

One thing this religion of ‘eco-stuff’, like Gaia, does have in common with other faiths, is that it annoys people. It annoys them a lot. Its like having a Methodist berating you about drinking beer. “For goodness, sake leave me alone, I’m a grown-up”. Or a Jehovah’s Witness on blood transfusion. “My blood, my business”. Likewise, my organs, and as long as I’m completely done with them, I’d be delighted to help someone else. If you ask me, it’s wicked to bury or burn life-transforming biological material. That’s my firmly held belief, but you don’t have to share it.

So, no preaching about the climate. The data are the data and likewise your experiences might make you suspect that the trend is right. Remembering my son’s birthdays has convinced me, looking at data from expensive satellites has too. Some truth is inconvenient, that’s why it isn’t always popular.

By 11 the world around me had nicely warmed up, as had I. Time for a coffee at at Winners in Finchingfield. Nice place, very efficient and Group 1 (Roger, Maurice, Alan, Charles, Rod and Howard) already had their coffee and were comfortably seated outside.

If there had been more space outside, group 2 would have opted for that as well. But they had nicked all the nice spaces.

So group 2 (Neil, Myself, Brian, Tom, Chris, Gareth, Martin) settled for coffee and a cake inside. We made the best of it.

Actually it turned out to be a beautiful ride, designed by Maurice, with a few gentle undulations. Just enough to keep it interesting.

Special mention goes to Martin since it was his first 30 mile cycle for a while. Having missed much of the summer, at least there was a little sunshine and it must have been great to get out again.

Back at the pub we had a table and a room of our own. The service was as welcoming and as swift as ever. My meal was only interrupted when I realised I hadn’t paid at Winners.

Too busy taking photos for this blog. Still they were very nice about it. And lest we forget something much more important I include one of my pictures here.

Nice ride. Not too complicated. Made time for a bit of contemplating and reminiscing. Not too much I hope, since we all have to focus on enjoying the here and now.

Still this weather makes you think. Doesn’t it?

…to paraphrase the late Larry Grayson. Grey it certainly was, although mild for the time of year and not raining. Greyness didn’t deter a great turnout of 17 riders from congregating at the ever popular Pig and Abbot in Abbington Piggots (or, as spell check would have it, “Pig and Albert”).

Maurice asserted his leadership rights and set off into the murk with the first group, followed at a respectable distance by two other groups. Good roads and a lack of significant breeze, punctures or hills meant a good pace was maintained up to Waresely (ignoring the route plan across a field), and a return to the Waresely garden centre, always an efficient café.

For those old timers that believed that Christmas happened in December, it was a slightly bewildering experience to be directed to the exit via halls and halls of tinselly decorations (or “bah, humbug landfill tat”, as this scribe would have it – not a view universally held in his household I should add).

Back on the road and the pace continued to be high, with group three putting Rod’s new motor under some strain in their attempts to overhaul group two.

No incidents meant that all riders were back in plenty of time to enjoy beer and Pat’s pies in a pleasantly filled pub (good to have Martin W join for lunch).

Much bike cleaning will be needed after that very enjoyable outing, or to give the last word back to Larry Grayson: “Look at the muck on ‘ere”.

Maurice, Andrew, Alan, Brian, Charles, Deborah, Geoff, Graham, Howard, Jeremy, Ken, Neil, Nigel, Rod, Simon, Tom, Victor