The Windmill Cycle Club

On this fine summer’s evening, Lyn B had five male escorts on a delightful ride through the lanes, although two of them, hubby B and Low Cost Kell diverted on a shorter route home………. That left Lyn in the company of Squadron Leader Maurice, Deputy Dawg Andrew and Moley Martin clocking up 19 miles from The Pheasant and circuiting via Duddenhoe End, Upper Langley (where John and Kell took their leave to return via Lower Langley and Little Chishill), Clavering, Arkesden and Chrishall.

Kell was using his powerful new electric Giant but had it set on eco mode in order to get more exercise. A few tow ropes and sport mode could have been more fun. Next time Kell!

So we re-grouped at The Pheasant and enjoyed succulent goujons and chips washed down with Simon’s fine ales. More ladies would be very welcome on Monday evenings and on Thursdays too, so please spread the word. Rides of various distances are always available and the pace is quite leisurely.

Thanks to Maurice and Andrew for planning the ride.

* Editor’s note. The term male escort may have various meanings but it is better used above than chaperon, a person defined by the Oxford English Dictionary as ‘a married or elderly woman in charge of girl on social occasions’ which hopefully does not apply to Maurice, Andrew, John, Kell or Martin (unless they are hiding something).

 

Windmiller Vernon was asked to ride a tandem with Alan a partially sighted chap who has his own tandem bike but who has lost his previously regular cycling partner.  Through Vernon’s volunteering to help Camsight, the local charity helping blind and partially sighted people round Cambridge, he was approached to do the London to Cambridge Charity Ride on Sunday 03rd July 16

They were part of a Camsight team of nine tandems, having left Cambridge by coach at 6 a.m. to start the ride from Pickett’s Lock near Edmonton, North London.

To view this wonderful spectacle of thousands of riders passing through the Essex countryside, Deputy Dawg Andrew left Wendens Ambo to meet up with Low Cost Ryan who had a delayed departure from Newport Terminal 1 travelling by super fast electric bike – So fast was Low Cost Ryan that Deputy Dawg Andrew passed him totally unawares in the opposite direction.

Having finally met up, we travelled against the posset of riders on the lookout for Vernon who we found in a matter of minutes near Wickham Bonhunt. I bellowed to Vernon to stop for a photograph who ignored me and kept riding – only to discover it’s not easy to stop and start a tandem in mid flight !!!

The halfway refreshment stop was at the village of Arkesden and to my amazement we bumped into Lyn (Squadron Leader Maurice’s wife) and her friend and companion Laura who were also taking part in the 60 mile ride. Shortly after Squadron Leader Maurice turned up on two wheels as part of the support team.

Well done to Vernon, Alan, Lyn and Laura for supporting and completing the annual Breast Cancer Now ride.

Eight Windmillers set off early today to commence a ride at 10.30am from The Royal Oak, Laxfield, in deepest Suffolk, owned by Simon and Ollie of The Pheasant. Maurice set off even earlier to stock up on fresh Aldeburgh croissants which were awaiting the peloton when they descended on his lovely Shrimp Cottage at the half way point, after 20 miles. The other Windmillers were Deputy Dawg Andrew, John B, Wee Jimny Ken, Half scone Keith, Marmite Tom, Brummie Brian and Moley Martin (bubbling with news of having just caught one).

Here is the route taken:

En route to Aldeburgh, the gang cycled through the peaceful villages of Darsham, Westleton and Middleton before stopping briefly in Leiston to visit The Long Shop Museum where Richard Garrett and Sons was once a manufacturer of agricultural machinery, steam engines, fire engines, trolleybuses and military equipment – well worth a stop of an hour or more to soak up the heritage of Victorian and early 20th century engineering.

More big guns in Middleton, where the famous Tin Man sculpture in stainless steel is beside the road welcoming visitors:

Then it was Thorpeness and a heads down ride along the seafront to Aldeburgh in a strong headwind before a welcome stop for coffee, beer and croissants in Shrimp Cottage, courtesy of Maurice.

Suitably refreshed, the 21 mile return trip started with an off-road Aldeburgh to Snape section, known as Kell Lane following Kell’s mishap last year, comprising sandy stretches, raised paths through water meadows and delightful forest paths. All went smoothly, however, with no one falling off but shortly afterwards Brian announced that he had a puncture which could well have been caused by the off road section. Moley’s pliers came in useful extracting a sharp piece of metal from Brian’s outer tyre but the 4 min target for a change of tube was not exactly achieved…………….

But before long we were whizzing through the lanes again and The Royal Oak hoved into view at 3.30pm where some fine Wherry, sandwiches and baguettes were waiting for us.

Laxfield is a lovely village and before leaving there was time to visit the adjacent All Saints Church:

…with its unique scissor beam roof, one of the widest in Suffolk:

Finally, what should pull up in front of The Royal Oak to collect a member of staff but this splendid Cadillac in showroom condition (purchased quite recently in Holland):

Thanks, Maurice, for a great ride and for your hospitality at Shrimp Cottage.

There were no stars or stripes to be seen on this pleasant evening’s ride through the lanes, nor any discussion of Nigel Farages’s idea of 23 June being our own Independence Day in the future. Instead, Squadron Leader Maurice led Deputy Dawg Andrew, John T, Bridget T, Lyn B and Moley Martin on an enjoyable 21 mile ride from The Pheasant, taking in Nuthamstead, Anstey, Meesden, Clavering, Arkesden, Duddenhoe End, Chrishall and Heydon.

Then it was back to The Pheasant where John B and their black lab joined us after a walk / run all the way from Sandon. Thirsts were quenched with some fine ales and hungers relieved with plentiful helpings of succulent goujons and chips.

Thanks to Maurice and his Deputy Dawg for organising the ride.

…..or so it seemed when a large turnout of 9 Windmillers arrived at the farm shop in Ardeley for coffee to inspect once again the jungle of electricity cables strung overhead Delhi-style. Opinions were divided as to whether more wires had been connected since the last visit a few months back – see below.

En route from the Pheasant, which was left at 9.00am, the Windmillers comprised Squadron Leader Maurice and his flock of Deputy Dawg Andrew, John B, Hot Rod, Half Scone Keith, Vernon, Brummie Brian, Marmite Tom and Moley Martin. It was great to have Vernon with us again, getting in some training for a massive London – Cambridge ride on a tandem on 3 July which he was doing with a partially sighted co-rider. What a tremendous recovery he has made – well done Vernon!

Here is the 26 mile route, with a diversion via Anstey at the end:

It was a perfect cycling day – warm and dry, little wind and empty lanes – just a few gravelly bits in the dips due the recent downpours, which Maurice was able to advise his flock about before ploughing into them at speed.

 

And then it was back via Nasty, Buntingford, Wyddial (with its Moles Lane), Anstey and Nuthampsted until the final climb back to the Pheasant where an excellent lunch was enjoyed by all.

Thanks, Maurice and Dawg for organising today’s ride.

A pleasant summer’s evening, for a change, saw Maurice, Deputy Dawg Andrew, Marmite Tom and Moley Martin set off from the Pheasant at 6.00 pm for ups and downs around the lanes, trying not to talk too much about Brexit………….

The 23 mile route took in Heydon, Elmdon  and Littlebury before passing Audley End House bathed in the evening sunshine. Then it was up to Littlebury Greeen and down El Bastardo hill before proceeding up and down to  Arkesden and through to Wicken Bonhunt. Then up and along to Rickling Green before heading to Manuden to inspect the newly repaired potholes of Manuden High Street. Clavering was next and then Duddenhoe End, Lower Langley, Little Chishill and finally the climb back to the Pheasant to celebrate the Dawg’s conversion (from lager to beer) and enjoy goujons and chips, which made Brexit all the more bearable.

Thanks to Maurice and Deputy Dawg for organising the ride.

The weather forecast was for sunny intervals with occasional heavy rain; enough to deter all but the most hardened of Windmillers. So it was that Maurice, Andrew, John B, Ken, Rick, Rod and Brian headed out from Steeple Bumpstead to explore North Essex and the Suffolk borders.

We were all packing wet weather gear and Ken, fearing the worst, had left his shiny new machine at home, opting instead for his trusty old, all-season boneshaker. We were prepared!

But somehow – and with a lot of nimble, last minute route adjustments, Maurice, steered us some 37 miles around the showers and led us back – dry! – to the Fox & Hounds for lunch. How does he do it?

Along the way we stopped for coffee and cake at Buckley’s Tea Rooms in Castle Hedingham, where John B was seen – somewhat sheepishly – sipping an orange juice. And they say Greene King shares have had a turbulent week.

At this point, Rick, having already cycled an additional 20 miles to join us at the start, peeled off homewards while the rest of us continued on through Maplestead, Pebmarsh, Lamarsh, Henny Street (where we thoughtfully made it up to John by stopping for a quick one at The Swan), Middleton, Gestingthorpe and the Yeldhams, before heading back to Steeple Bumpstead for the Fox & Hound’s special combo of black pudding, bacon, asparagus & poached egg. A couple of beers later we were debating Brexit with the locals while the rain fell like stair rods outside. Ah, the English summer!

Husbands and wives comprising John and Lyn Bagrie, John and Bridget Tarrington and Ken and Ann Worthing, set off from the Pheasant on a fine summer’s evening, accompanied by Maurice, Keith, Andrew G and Martin, on a variety of circuits around the lanes:

The husbands and wives peeled off in Arkesden to make a circuit of around 16 miles whilst the others continued to Manuden where it was good to see potholes being repaired at long last. Then it was back via Clavering and the windmills, where large potholes are still in evidence, but The Bull at Lower Langley looked particularly inviting and so Adnam’s Mosaic and Fat Sprat bitters just had to be sampled…….

Finally, it was back to The Pheasant via Little Chishill, having clocked up 24 miles, where re-assembly took place and all enjoyed plentiful helpings of goujons and chips.

Thanks, Maurice, for organising the ride and for providing different route options. Let’s make the most of these wonderful summer evenings!

So there we were sipping our coffees in the front room of The Bell Inn, Kersey, when a vintage car went by in a cloud of steam. Being a naturally inquisitive lot, we exited the pub sharpish and, following the steam clouds, found the owner topping up the boiler at the ford that straddles the village High Street. The 1910 Stanley Steamer was his pride and joy and he was more than happy to tell us all about it. Then with a cheery wave he hopped back in and drove off – more or less silently and at quite a lick – up the hill.

This was just one of the many high points on Thursday’s ride, with Ken, Vernon, Keith, John B, Maurice and Brian enjoying a very pleasant run from Long Melford to Acton, Boxford, beautiful Kersey and then on through Chelsworth before stopping for a long lunch at The Swan, Lavenham. 29 miles in all.

From Wikipedia:

Perhaps the best-known and best-selling steam car was the Stanley Steamer, produced from 1896 to 1924. Between 1899 and 1905, Stanley outsold all gasoline-powered cars, and was second only to the electric cars of the Columbia Automobile Company in the US. It used a compact fire-tube boiler to power a simple double-acting two-cylinder engine. Because of the phenomenal torque available at all engine speeds, the steam car’s engine was typically geared directly to the rear axle, with no clutch or variable speed transmission required. Until 1914, Stanley steam cars vented their exhaust steam directly to the atmosphere, necessitating frequent refilling of the water tank; after 1914, all Stanleys were fitted with a condenser, which considerably reduced their water consumption.

In 1906 the Land Speed Record was broken by a Stanley steam car, piloted by Fred Marriott, which achieved 127 mph (204 km/h) at Ormond Beach, Florida. This annual week-long “Speed Week” was the forerunner of today’s Daytona 500. This record was not exceeded by any car until 1910.

Windmillers Tom & Brian took part in last Sunday’s Tour of Cambridgeshire; an 80 mile run catering for everyone from elite racers to, well, Windmillers like us.

Waiting for the off at the Peterborough Showground, we were just a little apprehensive having rarely pedalled more than 40 miles with Maurice and the gang on our regular Thursday outings. But here we were, Tom in his Marmite outfit and Brian in tomato red, surrounded by fit looking types on fancy machines all talking about about their last enduro race. These guys didn’t look like they were going to stop for a coffee.

The scale of the operation was impressive; 8000 riders had to be registered, our bikes electronically tagged, 80 miles of roads closed to traffic and feeding stations set up along the way ready to dole out industrial quantities of sausage rolls, energy bars, bananas and bottled water. And we were to be shepherded around the Fens by a posse of motorcycle outriders from the National Escort Group.

The first few miles saw some hairy moments. There’s not much room for error with that many riders packed together on winding country lanes and, sure enough, we saw some casualties keeping the paramedics busy. But once out in the Fens we started to relax and enjoy ourselves. The sunshine, the open vistas, the camaraderie; bowling along roads completely free of cars was a real joy.

And with their roads closed to traffic, the locals in the villages really were a captive audience, enjoying beers in the sunshine while, alarmingly, their kids were in the road attempting high fives with cyclists. “C’mon Marmite!” they yelled at Tom.

We also observed that Fenlanders don’t seem to have much regard for Europe. Vote Leave posters were everywhere; we didn’t see a single one for Remain.

We took the first 40 miles at quite a clip. By 50 miles, however, Brian was flagging, whereas Tom was still going strong, encouraged by the vision just ahead who we dubbed Miss Gold. She knows who she is.

The final 10 miles back to the Showground were tough going but we turned in a respectable time of 5½ hours; not bad for dads, we thought.

We also have a healthy respect for the Windmillers recently returned from Scotland. We may have had a long day in the saddle – but they had the additional challenge of steep inclines, loaded panniers and whisky hangovers.

Would we do it again next year? Maybe; but let’s first get over the persistent numbness in our rear ends.

http://www.cambridge-news.co.uk/Tour-Cambridgeshire-huge-hit-thousands-cyclists/story-29366766-detail/story.html

The winner of the Best Navigator Award (BNA) on the recent Scottish tour, the Revd Moley Martin, showed conclusively that it was awarded in error by getting lost twice before the start of today’s ride and then again shortly after the start. He blamed Eileen, his unfaithful satnav, for the delay in getting to the start line at The Rushbrooke Arms in Sicklesmere near Bury St Edmunds but good navigators should of course not rely purely on modern technology but should be able to read good old fashioned maps too. The peloton comprising Squadron Leader Two Scones Maurice, Deputy Dawg Andrew, Wee Jimny Ken, Half scone Keith, Brummie Brian and Marmite Tom then swept off at high speed ahead of a long stream of heavy traffic leaving the Revd Moley still putting on his cycle clips. By the time Moley could join the busy road there was no sign of the peloton at the first junction, which could have gone in one of three directions. Plaintive phone calls to the Squadron Leader and  Deputy Dawg were not answered but eventually he learnt of their whereabouts and was greeted justifiably with claims of s**t navigation from Wee Jimny Ken and demoted immediately to the SNA.

So eventually all set off on a delightful 34 mile tour of peaceful Suffolk lanes, on a day which proved warmer than expected. The precise route is difficult to describe as Maurice, the new holder of the BNA, navigated us superbly through endless junctions using just a piece of paper……………. Suffolk was ablaze with yellow, as were some of the riders, making them difficult to see at times:

Coffee and scones were devoured at an excellent National Trust shop in the centre of Lavenham (can anyone identify the shrub on the left?):

Then it was off to Hartest and down, possibly, Suffolk’s steepest hill instead of having to climb it as we did last year, to enjoy an excellent leisurely lunch in The Crown. The circuit back to Sicklesmere was completed by mid-afternoon by all except Tom who cycled back to Shelford, clocking up 60 miles in total, in further preparation for his 80 miler coming up shortly. The rest of us enjoyed a drink in The Rushbrooke Arms courtesy of Ken to celebrate his birthday the following day. Happy Birthday Wee Jimny!

Thanks again to Maurice for leading the way around such delightful lanes.

 

 

This was the ride we had all been waiting for – Kell showing off his new high speed electric Giant, except it took three people to heave it on and off his car:

Thereafter it was a question of who could catch Kell on this lovely evening as Two scones  Maurice, Deputy Dawg, Half scone Keith, Marmite Tom, Carl and the Revd Moley Martin discussed devious ways of holding on to his luggage rack without him noticing. We sped through the lanes taking in Heydon, Elmdon, Catmere End, Littlebury Green (where Carl took a short cut to the Pheasant),  Arkesden, and Clavering before pausing for breath in Lower Langley for, (guess what?), Kell to catch up!

Was it him or was it the bike? A bit of both but by selecting a more appropriate gear he was soon whizzing along again without even pressing the sport mode button – normal seemed more than adequate. Tom was in serious training for an 80 miler and so headed back to Shelford whilst the rest of us did our best to keep up with Kell without success, the Black Dawg panting for a bowl of water even before the ride back commenced:

And so we eventually joined Kell and Carl in the Pheasant to enjoy large helpings of goujons and chips washed down with some fine beers.Thanks are due to Maurice and the Dawg for organising a pleasant circuit with opportunities to take variations en route.

Three Windmillers, Squadron Leader Maurice, Deputy Dawg Andrew, Moley Martin, joined by an old school chum of the Dawg,  Don Kent, gathered in the pretty Clydeside village of Gourock on the evening of Sunday 15 May prior to starting Rusack’s Grand Tour of Scotland which he and Maurice had been planning for several weeks. All Don and Moley had to do was turn up and take part – sheer luxury! Don had already pedalled nearly 300 miles from Newcastle, Maurice and Andrew drove up with the bikes and Moley whizzed up on EasyJet.

Here is the happy band:

After an excellent meal at Café Continental in Gourock, owned by a friend of the Dawg, and a comfortable night in a seafront hotel the 4 set off the following morning by ferry to Dunoon, on a bright sunny day:

The whole route can be seen here: http://gb.mapometer.com/cycling/route_4326635 . The first destination was Inverary which was reached after a delightful circuit of Loch Fyne, with a particularly good coffee stop with fruit cake and a wee dram of Loch Fyne whisky Batch No. 3, to be precise, which all agreed was as good as having an electric bike. Then it was lunch at the original Loch Fyne restaurant (well, a snack and not the full monty) before pedalling on to Inverary where we arrived mid-afternoon, to be greeted by the lovely Norena of The Bank House B&B who looked after us well.

After more sampling of Batch No. 3 in a local whisky shop it was time for an excellent meal in The George in Inverary which is to be highly recommended. The Dawg’s behaviour was such that he nearly ended up in the nearby Inverary Jail but he played his get out of jail free card and was allowed back into Norena’s fine establishment.

The following day, Tuesday, was an initial gentle climb up Glen Aray to the sound of cuckoos and past a monument to Neil Munro, the famous Scottish writer. Munro was born in Inveraray, the illegitimate son of Ann Munro, a kitchen maid.

Coffee was had at a grand but faded hotel on Loch Awe, with awesome views (ugh), now used primarily by coach parties. It even has its own railway station and we could imagine how wealthy holidaymakers might have arrived with their entourage for some hunting, shooting and fishing.

Then it was on past the Cruachan hydro-electric power station where trips can be made 1km inside the mountain by bus to view the turbine hall, but with rain due it was decided to press on to our second stop of Connel, near Oban. Luckily this was a short day as the heavens opened just as we arrived and we enjoyed a good lunch in The Oyster Tavern before settling into our nearby B&B. The afternoon was then spent taking a taxi into Oban, eating excellent moules marinieres from a quayside stall, meeting a travel friend of Andrew’s and finally warming up with another wee dram in a local hotel.

In the evening we had another meal in The Oyster Tavern, where the oysters were as good as they come, and met up with another old school chum of Andrew and Don’s, a hardened sheep and cattle farmer whose life is clearly tough compared to our local arable barons.

So far we had been on quite busy A-roads with endless streams of logging trucks, buses, tourists and locals giving us a narrow miss at times and so it was quite a relief to join up with the Sustrans Route no. 78 and enjoy some splendid quiet tracks and lanes, including quite long sections of a disused railway track. These also included some real hills for the first time which slowed progress a bit but was preferable to the A roads.

This was to be a long day of approx 58 miles, reaching Fort William at 1.30pm with a few light showers en route, but a surprise was in store when we finally got there, having heaved our bikes up a flight of steep steps at one point!. Andrew had been tracking the progress down Loch Ness of a cruise ship he and his wife Lindsey had experienced a few years back and, lo and behold, it was at the top of a series of 8 locks known as Neptune’s Staircase having come down the Caledonian Canal earlier that day.  Built by Thomas Telford between 1803 and 1822, it is the longest staircase lock in Britain. Needless to say, Andrew knew the ship’s manager and before too long, but after some much needed lunch, the passengers disembarked for a coach trip, on went the bikes and we cruised down river for a an hour or so on this luxury vessel. Furthermore, we also saw a steam train chuffing its way from Fort William hauling several coaches of tourists behind it.

 

Unfortunately, this site does not take videos without an upgrade but a video of the steam train is available from Moley for those interested.

It was still a long way to our destination of Spean Bridge via the fabulous path alongside the Caledonian Canal:

with the yellows of Southerly oil seed rape being replaced by the brilliant yellow of gorse everywhere we went. Saying goodbye to Sustrans 78 at Gairlochy we then diverted Eastwards to Spean Bridge up a steep hill passing by the famous Royal Commando Memorial on the way, which we very nearly missed despite its size. It was humbling to witness, particularly the continuing recent deaths of young marines in Afghanistan and other war zones.

Then it was a fast downhill ride into Spean Bridge, knowing that the same hill would have to be climbed early the next day, to find our B&B for the night – a 5 star renovated fishing lodge situated 2 miles outside the village in a glorious position looking towards mountains in all directions. But that was when the fun started, and probably the subject of another blog to be penned by the Dawg himself as an appendix! Here’s a taster of the lovely establishment. Note the quality of the furnishings:

The final day to Inverness was also a long one of 60 miles and an early start, involving firstly the climb out of Spean Bridge and then a busy A road alongside Loch Lochy until we rejoined Sustrans 78 near Invergarry where a new cycle route on a disused railway line is nearly complete. This was very peaceful and together with a nice wooded section alongside the Caledonian Canal we were in Fort Augustus for coffee and a view of another series of locks climbing up from Loch Ness to the Caledonian Canal.

However, Sustrans 78 then took to the hills big time to avoid having to cycle along the busy A82 on the west side of Loch Ness, and the heavens opened too…………… The first part of the climb was around 250 metres of vertical up a 12% incline, which took the stuffing out of all of us, but we got there:

Then the wind got up too and by the time we finally we made it to the 400m viewpoint at the top by a combination of pedalling, pushing and pulling the wind was howling and the rain was horizontal. A brief spell of shelter behind a rock was followed by an order from the Dawg to get off the mountain pronto, which was good advice, and we were soon speeding downhill on the B852 with a tail wind and a different climate soon emerged, along with the outline of a remote pub at Whitebridge into which we dived to warm up, change clothes and wolf down some excellent ham, egg and chips, assisted by a couple of pints of Happy Chappy which was most appropriately named as we soon cheered up!

After lunch we continued down the B852 to the tune of YMCA sung expertly by Don, with the occasional uphill stretch, until we finally reached the peaceful shores of Loch Ness and then enjoyed a long and pleasant downwind ride all the way to Inverness, which we reached at 5.45pm.

 

At the celebration dinner in our hotel in Inverness, awards were presented for outstanding feats of endurance and other significant achievements over the 4 days, after a democratic system of nominations and votes had been taken. These were as follows:

1. King of the Mountains Award and General Tosser – Deputy Dawg (on the toss of a coin)
2. Norena Award – Deputy Dawg
3. Schmoozer Award – Deputy Dawg
4. Technical Award – Maurice
5. Major faux pas Award – Don
6. Best Navigator Award – Moley
7. Nearest to the logger Award – Maurice
8. B482 gay Award – Don
9. Mary Berry Scone Award – Two Scones Maurice
10. Gay train spotter Award – Deputy Dawg

Overall winner: Deputy Dawg with 4 awards. Well done!

On Friday it was back to Gourock by train, preceded by a quick look inside the Highland Hotel where the impressive staircase was used as a model for the Titanic:

The hotel also had displays of some impressive paintings by Scottish painters, some of which can be seen in the above photo.

We said a sad farewell to Don at Perth who continued on to Newcastle whilst the Windmillers headed back to Glasgow and then Gourock. The scenery from Inverness onwards was spectacular.

A warm welcome was given by Andrew’s friend Roland and his wife Anne in Gourock after which Maurice whizzed back home via EasyJet leaving the Dawg and Moley to enjoy a memorable evening in Café Continental followed by a glass or three of a fine Islay whisky back in the comfort of their lovely home.

 

A late start back on Saturday via the nearby quay to see The Queen Mary (mini version) and the world’s largest sailing ship, Eos, which had just arrived prior to a cruise around the Western Isles, was an easy 7 hour drive. The only difficulty was staying awake.

            

It was a brilliant few days and thanks are due to Andrew and Maurice for planning the trip. Hopefully other similar trips for Windmillers and others will be organised too in future.

 

And now, from the lumber jack himself, our very own Don Kent, the story of our love affairs with logging trucks and other intimate details………….

The Windmill Club tour of Scotland 2016

Day 1

The Clyde was grey and overcast when the Windmill Cycling  Club from the deepest home counties (East), set off on their epic cycle ride to Inverness. There were 3 of them, known only as Dawg (the posse leader) Reverend and Wing Commander. Their true identities have been hidden to protect the guilty.

On the ferry to Dunoon the spray was splashing on the car deck and the wind whipped up the sea. It was all a lot different to the day before when I cycled north from County Durham and Arran to meet the shadowy crew I would be embedded with for the following week. Then it was a brilliant May Day with Glaswegians ‘doon the watter’ as they had done for generations originally to escape for a day from the dark satanic steel mills, coal mines, and shipyards of Lanarkshire and Glasgow. They have all but gone now, swept away by the forced industrial clearances of the 80’s and 90’s every bit as savage as the original highland clearances which preceded them. But 3 shipyards survive and one was the destination of an historic ship which took thousands of them to the glories of the Firth. This was the original Queen Mary which after a lifetime of service was sold on and eventually became nothing more than a fancy restaurant on the Thames serving overpriced food and drink to people with handbags and glad rags who had indeed forgotten what their grandads had to sweat to buy them. She had been towed all the way from the Thames back to the Clyde and arrived the very same hour as the Windmill club. A small flotilla welcomed her home before being towed into the Greenock dockyard for a full restoration to her former glories. A happy ending at last.

The stunning sunset over the Firth framed the Wind miller’s as they dined at the Café Continental an exceptional hostelry run in the tradition of the Scottish Italian’s who provide many of these excellent places along the Clyde. This one was owned by a fellow inmate of the institution that Dawg and I had attended as he genially at the head of the table the sun descended behind him to draw a curtain over the day.

Day 2

The first objective of the Wind millers was Inverary, to get there they needed to get to Dunoon the genteel end of the Firth with its well-kept houses and gardens probably a nightmare to grow up in but good for the tartan and shortbread demographic. We moved away into the hills and became intimate almost immediately with a breed who seemed determined to make love to us, (in a BDSM way) Logging trucks. This subspecies of gigantius truckus just wants to be intrusively intimate but at some speed, think of them as excited teenage boys, too close for comfort but they are gone in a flash. They would be invading the personal space of the windmiller’s all the way to Inverness, but we never fell in love with them despite all their hormonal attention. The road along the Loch eventually led us to Loch Fyne itself and a welcome stop at a pub restaurant for some coffee, fruit cake and whisky. Here the windmiller’s discovered another feature of the highlands. Unlike the loggers the staff treat you like you have just interrupted a funeral by asking for a coffee, but over time they warm up and mellow into lovely people. This pattern would repeat itself over and over again. We sampled a whisky from the Loch Fyne ‘living barrel’ where the cask it kept topped up with different whisky’s so no batch is the same. Fortified we roared round the head of the Loch stopping only to look at the mysterious Tinkers heart in a field surrounded by camera shy highland cattle. Down we went to the loch side and found the original Loch Fyne oyster and fish restaurant in all its glory. Now it’s a chain owned by some massive distant chain probably owned by a hedge fund somewhere but this one is still owned by the original company and not just a brand. While there we found a local newspaper which reported a marriage at the Tinkers Heart, which is an ancient pagan wedding site. The couple who were married there were the first in recorded history, which is something to tell the children when you are walking them to pagan school. A stop there fortified the wind millers to continue through attentive loggers to Inverrary a beautiful planned town on the Loch Side. In the strangely fenced off harbour was a Clyde Puffer the legendary cargo carriers of the West flat bottomed so it could beach itself and unload cargos with its own crane. This one was called the Vital Spark which was used in the TV series. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pvn6kAFMTwU&list=PL_u8ejPdh0eluHUG9lZCKZfSuOvj2UHMQ

Our rooms for tonight were right next to the Jail, now a museum. The hostess Norena, broke the Highland welcome mould by being very friendly from the off and she did a mean breakfast. That night the Windmillers were in a cosy pub with lashings of food and ale, we were well underway.

Day 3

Day 3 dawned, and today it was an easy ride to Connell about 7 miles north of Oban. The hills were steeper but soon the amazing Loch Awe soon presented itself, splayed out in all its glory before the Windmiller’s. High on the mountain above was the Hydro station we would see later.  We stopped at the Loch Awe Hotel a massive regal pile above the Loch steeped in history. It was a bit like a faded dowager, presentable and beautiful, but forced to adapt to the realities of tourism where it’s cheaper to go to Ibiza  for 2 weeks than spend a weekend here. The old lady had become a haven for mass booked coach parties, but her décor, size and own railway station underneath the cliff she stood on, gave clues to her glamorous youth.  Just along the road was the massive Cruachan Hydro Power station deep inside the mountain, 1km in, were the huge turbines. Tempted to go in the Windmiller’s resisted, as the weather was closing in.

Returning to some serious heavy petting with loggers on the road, they swept down to the sea and raced along the shoreline to the huge Connell Bridge and underneath it the world’s only sea waterfall, created twice a day as the tide filled and emptied the sea Loch behind. Calling in to the village shop we discovered we were talking to the landlord of our next bed. Once we dumped our gear we set off in now considerable rain for the local pub, The Oyster, where we were given a particularly harsh greeting “You will have to wait until I sort this lot out” Oh Ok, sorry we wanted a drink, and this looked like a pub from the outside – we thought silently, not daring to question her priorities. After a failed attempt to catch a train it was a taxi for the windmiller’s into the saturated Oban. We met an old colleague of Dwag from the travel trade who was still there along with his MILF type co-worker, who Ian said was unforgettable, I am sure she is! Eventually the windmillers found a seafood stall on the dock where they consumed all manner of marine life, most still alive it seems. As the token Vege (even the windmiller’s have equal opportunities policy’s)  I retreated to the dockside Wetherspoons where North Eastern people like myself tend to congregate particularly on Giro day. After Coffee in another Dowager hotel, this time tarted up with a mini skirt and a lot of make-up, we taxied back to Connell in the mini monsoon and retreated to the Oyster again. Here Dawg and I met another inmate who farms over the water to the North. Where we would be going in the morning.

Day 4

This was a long one. After Dwag had spotted a sea otter twice, (which the owner had not seen for 15 years (or maybe never), we set off over the bridge which was built for the railway we would be following for a while. This was largely a very good cycle path which gave us a well needed break from the hormonal loggers. It continued all the way to the end of the railway in Ballahulish where a coffee stop in a Golf Club gave Dwag an excuse to go all Braveheart with a tartan rug.  Across the new bridge and on to Fort William. Fort William is the sink estate of the highlands, made worse by an unfathomable decision to build a dual carriageway between the town and the Loch. Dawg was up to something here, insisting we pushed on to the Caledonian Canal about 3 miles further on. Not needing an excuse to get out of Fort William, we went. What followed was a masterstroke from the ever more impressive Dwag. First we watched the Jacobite Steam service, steam slowly over the swing bridge and then Dawgs ship tracker app (a must for ship anorak’s everywhere) correctly identified a Super Luxury cruise ship (£7k a pop!)  descending the locks known as Neptune’s staircase. Obviously Dwag knew somebody on board and at the bottom lock the passengers (average age about 85, and I am being generous here) go off for a coach tour and we got on, bikes and everything, to do the twin swing bridges and remaining locks to the sea lock where we got off the polished mahogany and silver service, and cycled back along the canal towards Loch Ness. Out on the canal it was beautiful and we all sailed on until we slung a right and climbed to Spean Bridge.    The Commando memorial overlooking the village is one of the most Iconic in these islands, Three commandos stand together looking left right and forward over the huge glen to Ben Nevis. No doubt the Soviets would have built them 20 meters higher in a more triumphalist stance, possibly clutching a sickle but here despite the unbelievable vista and truly impressive sculpture they look calm prepared but relaxed gazing out into the far distance, Their weapons are on their shoulders. I loved it. Next to it is a memorial garden where people put tributes to deceased commandos, even ones who died in old age. Would you believe it Dawg even knew one!                                                                     In these parts he even knows the dead. Our accommodation for the night was a 5+ guest house out in the countryside. It was immaculate, possibly too immaculate. Food was an immediate problem as there was nowhere to eat in Spean Bridge and we had missed the strict 19:00 deadline for the guest house. However they did sell alcohol so red wine (huge mistake) and beer along with cheese on toast we delivered to the immaculate living room. It was left slightly less immaculate by me, after I had failed to get the windmillers to trash the entire place by doing rock and roll things like throwing TV’s out of the windows and dead deer back in (a huge supply lying along the roads) we cleaned up the best we could and got the hell out of there.

Day 5

Now this was extreme, after a climb out of Spean Bridge and a fantastic descent to the Canal again the towpath became our friend again. It needs all sorts of people to keep it running including a guy to raise and lower the last original bridge on the waterway. He was from Bavaria here for love, spending his day in a small hut working the bridge which only went to a small farm and had to be opened in two stages using a boat to get across the other side to work that one. Fort Augustus on Loch Ness’s southern tip was where the windmiller’s stocked up on Scones (Take a bow Wing Commander Scone) and tea before attempting the ’challenging’ south side road. The choice was a flattish ride along the main road with the teenage boys and an increasing number of amorous coaches as well, or climb on the south side. Up we went, and Up and err up the windmiller’s were all off their bikes when we got to the top and had a celebration selfie. This was equitant to taking a celebratory photo on mile 6 of a marathon. After the premature photo, it just went up for a very long time until the 400mtr real summit on an exposed wind and rain lashed hill. I hid with Dawg behind the only shelter, a boulder, on our hands and knees. We got off that super quick before hypothermia set in. We thrashed downhill (36mph on my clock) and found a remote pub! Diving in there We got changed drank beer and Whisky and ate food. Amazing. Then it was a great ride along the Loch Shore on the B852 which goes really well to the lyrics of YMCA!  Eventually the Policeman, Builder, Red Indian and Lumber jack, swept into the Highland capital in glorious sunshine. That night we stayed in a hotel with thankfully red carpets. We awarded the tour awards which Dwag won pretty convincingly, with King of The Mountains, Norena, Schmoozer and gay train spotter awards and slept the sleep of the just in our “compact” rooms.

Day 6.

I was now 449.5 miles from Co Durham and I clocked the last 0.5 miles down to the station. But first Dawg took us into the Station Hotel where a magnificent staircase was the model for the one on the Titanic, and indeed was used in the first film. (the water damage must have been horrific) Then in some stunning sunshine it was south along the Highland Main Line where the Windmiller’s left me at Perth. Back in Newcastle it was an easy 15 miles home to make 465 miles

And so my guest status with the windmiller’s drew to a close, a crazy and often hilarious trip with some exceptional people, would I do it again? Where do I sign up?

 

 

Eight colourful characters comprising Squadron Leader Maurice, Deputy Dawg Andrew, John T, Wee Jimny Ken, Half Scone Keith, Rick, Brummy Brian and Minister Moley, set off from the Pheasant earlier than usual at 9.00am on yet another glorious May day. The 36 mile route took us via Heydon, Melbourn, Steeple Morden, Ashwell, Baldock, Sandon, Therfield and Barley:

Not only were the riders colourful but the scenery was too – May at his best. The first stop was at the memorial to 355th Fighter Group at Steeple Morden where the Dawg took advantage to cure his growl, with the help of a few others.

Thanks to Rick for identifying the growling saddle, which was all due to the Dawg’s posterior! No wonder he had been squeaking such a lot recently.

Then it was off to Ashwell for a coffee stop in the village before heading on to Baldock and a steady climb up the hill to Sandon and Therfield, where May colours were at their best.

Finally, it was the beer inducing climb back to the Pheasant from Barley where a splendid lunch was had in the garden, amongst the herbaceous plants and trees of Simon and Ollie’s beautiful garden.

Thanks, Maurice, for arranging a wonderful ride and the weather to go with it.

 

Six Windmillers comprising Maurice, both Andrews, Carl, Kell and Martin set off from The Pheasant at 6.00pm on a series of multi-coloured rides of varying distances which Maurice had plotted to take into account the different needs of members – red (10 miles), blue (14 miles), black (19 miles) and green (23 miles), which immediately caused some confusion amongst the skiers present!

It wasn’t long before Kell peeled off in Elmdon, with further talk of acquiring an electric bike, which left 5. Then Carl took the blue route in Littlebury Green, which left 4,  after which the Deputy Dawg’s bike started making loud growling noises and he peeled off near Wenden’s Ambo to try and sort it out in the comfort of his shed at home, which left 3. The remaining trio continued doing the green and black until Andrew G peeled off in Little Chishill which left just Maurice and Moley to climb the hill back to the Pheasant, clocking up a mysterious 19 miles in total.

Other than a few spits of rain the ride was very pleasant and warm, which applied also to the welcome back at the Pheasant where we met up once again with the Dawg, Kell and Carl to devour delicious goujons and chips, washed down with some good beers.

Thanks, Maurice, for planning the rides. Let’s hope that the warm weather, light evenings and a choice of rides on a Monday will encourage others to join us over the coming weeks.

On a gloriously hot spring day, whilst our leader Maurice was scrubbing the decks of a monster yacht in Majorca and John B was walking in the Lake District, Andrew Deputy Dawg led our party on a 36 mile circular tour of quiet Essex lanes from and back to the Fleur de Lys in Widdington via Henham, Great Easton, Great Bardfield, the famous Blue Egg café, Finchingfield, Radwinter, Wimbish and Debden. Others on the ride included Wee Jimny Ken, Two Scones Keith, Rick, Hot Rod and the Right Revd Moley Martin. Kell also joined us at the start but, sadly, we lost him after the first couple of miles. Kell has been testing out some rapid electric bikes recently and we are looking forward to him giving us a tow up the hills in the near future.

The Blue Egg was the main destination, and one not visited previously. As the Dawg said in his briefing notes:

The Blue Egg in Great Bardfield, Essex, is the long-standing destination for riders from around the county, as well as South Cambridgeshire and even parts of Hertfordshire. The coffee is good, the cakes are better, and the scones are enormous. It’s surrounded by quiet roads, so wherever you’re coming from there’s a selection of routes to get you there. Even on a midweek morning, there are always bike riders in, often including stars Alex Dowsett or Mark Cavendish, who live locally. And if you want to fill your jersey pockets with bedding plants, there’s even a nursery next door.

The scones were indeed so enormous that Keith could only share one with Moley! Here we are enjoying the sunshine:

On the return leg we cycled through yet more quiet lanes, passing by Spains Hall on the way for a bit of culture:

Spains Hall is a lovely Elizabethan country house near Finchingfield, now used as a wedding venue. The hall is named after Hervey de Ispania, who held the manor at the time of the Domesday Book in 1086. The pic above was taken from the web and this one shows Moley blocking the view:

Thoughts of the first beer started at Wimbish and it wasn’t long before the knights of the round garden table were tucking into an excellent 2 course lunch at the Fleur de Lys,

but it might be cider next time if the weather is as hot – was 25 C a record for early May?

Thanks, Dawg, for organising an excellent ride to The Blue Egg.

Our shepherd Maurice announced that this would be an easy flat route starting and finishing at The Golden Fleece in Braughing. 35 miles later, the view was that since his childhood in these parts some geological activity must have happened to create some significant hills, including a final granny gear hill in Braughing itself!

It was a clear, bright but slightly chilly start to the ride when Maurice led the way clockwise down memory lanes, followed by a herd of sheep including Deputy Sheep Dawg Andrew, John B (back from a week’s walking in Majorca), John T, Keith, Hot Rod, Jimny Ken, Brummy Brian, Marmite Tom, Peter, (landlord of, appropriately, The Golden Fleece), and Moley Martin. Here is the route:

After traversing fords and cart tracks, the first photo call was at the same spot in Barwick (pronounced Barrick) where Maurice’s grandfather was once photographed with his traction engine:

……and this is what it looks like today:

Note the building on the right is the same as 100 years ago but the house behind has gone and been replaced by barn style buildings. Here’s another photo of Maurice’s grandfather’s traction engine driving a hay elevator with the hayrick being built in the background:

Then it was onwards through fabulous deserted countryside taking in Wadesmill where Maurice and  Moley stopped to look at the monument to Thomas Clarkson who was instrumental in the abolition of slavery:

This spot also happens to mark the point of the start of the first English turnpike, which probably had fewer potholes than today’s roads. By the time we reached the picture postcard village of Westmill, the need for refreshment was considerable and the local tea shop produced some excellent coffee whilst we sat outside and admired another customer’s Harley Davison:

Some useful advice was also offered in the toilet:

The return leg took us through Buntingford, Wyddial, Great Hormead, Furneaux Pelham and a strong headwind ride to Braughing, where a good lunch was had at The Golden Fleece. Other than a few chain problems the ride was uneventful.

Thanks are due to Shepherd Maurice for planning a wonderful ride and to Deputy Sheep Dawg Andrew for herding the sheep to the starting pen. Baa baa!

The attraction of the lanes around Balsham discovered last week resulted in a return visit, starting and finishing at The Black Bull. Maurice’s route took 10 members, the others being Deputy Dawg Andrew, Two Scones Keith, Brummie Brian, Hot Rod, Marmite Tom, Rick, Jimny Ken, John T and Moley Martin on a scenic 41 mile ride through very picturesque East Cambridgeshire and West Suffolk villages. Kell joined us at Dullingham, from where he had ridden from Balsham, and he and Andrew cycled back together to Balsham, but not via the recommended route. Together with other errors of course near the end, certain members may well have clocked up nearer to 45 miles. Congratulations especially to Kell for clocking up 23 miles.

Here is the route, anti-clockwise via West Wickham,  Great Thurlow, Hargrave, Barrow (coffee stop), Higham, Moulton, Cheveley, Stetchworth and Dullingham:

Spot the Lancaster buried into the thatch of this house in Great Thurlow:

En route we admired the sculptural efforts of a local farmer:

and also the very impressive bridge over the River Kennet in Moulton, which was clearly needed in times of flooding many years ago (where has all the water gone?), now adorned with impressive looking Windmillers, one who appears to be cocking his leg (Deputy Dawg of course):

And so back to The Black Bull for a well deserved pint and a good lunch, all feeling glad we hadn’t attended this unspecified public school whose closet rules, as displayed in the gents, were clearly disobeyed by most who used it:

So, from one miserable weak beast, rotten at games and work, let’s thank Maurice who is clearly innocent of these things for planning a superb route and guiding us around tiny lanes and only getting partially lost once!

On a fine spring day nine members set off from The Pheasant at 9.30am, led by Squadron Leader Maurice and followed by Deputy Dawg Andrew, Two Scones Keith, Brummie Brian, John B, John T, Hot Rod, Tom (Marmite Tom?) and Rick, downhill to Ickleton where they picked up Moley Martin who joined for 30 miles of the ride. The route then went via the Hinxton and A505 cycle paths to Great Abington, through to Hildersham and up the long climb to Balsham where refreshments were had at The Black Bull. Then it was back via Bartlow, Ashdon, Saffron Walden, Littlebury, Littlebury Green (where Moley peeled off back to Ickleton) and finally lunch at The Pheasant. Here’s the route:

And here are some of the group outside the walls of the Castle in Saffron Walden:

 

Thanks to Maurice and Andrew for organising an uneventful but very pleasant ride.

 

Nine keen cyclist arrived at the Fleur De Lis Widdington in brilliant sunlight ready for another Maurice adventure. On the advice of our leader it was suggested Kell meet us somewhere between Finchingfield and Helions Bumpstead as it was his first ride (welcome back Kell) -then there were 8.

Our route took us past Debden, Wimbish, Radwinter following a narrow track to Ashdon  aptly named Water Lane through two fords. Unfortunately John T wasn’t feeling 100% and decided to turn back just before Ashdon  – Then there were 7.

Our route took us past Ashdon up to Steventon End skirting past Tim Vesty’s estate towards Helions Bumpstead and onwards past Spains Hall and Finchingfield. enroute Brummie Brian’s front tyre ingested a shard of glass resulting  a puncture repair at the roadside

John B not being particularly mechanically minded conveniently found a bench to relax and enjoy the spring morning sunshine.

Following a perfect coffee stop at Finchingfield where we sat outside observing a number of  small pelton’s racing by -where I would add Two Scones had no scones however Rod  consumed a gigantic chocolate brownie, we made a hasty retreat via Little Sampford, Thaxted, Henham and up a nasty little hill to the sanctuary of the Fleur Di Lys and a glorious two course meal washed down by various types of amber nectar.

Kell the old sport donned his lycra and cycled up to the pub from Newport – and then there were 8

Andrew Agatha Christie