With the weather in mind, we decided to keep it fairly local and short and opted for a 30 mile route out around Boroughbridge and Marton-cum-Grafton.  With the early signs of rain in the air and a biting NE wind, we headed down into Knaresborough and out through Lingerfield and Farnham.  JC’s knee was still giving him some grief, so he left us near Staveley for an easy ride home, with the rest of us continuing into the headwind to Minskip and Boroughbridge.

We turned down Grafton Lane and finally got the wind on our backs.  We passed the Punch Bowl, which sparked some chat about what an idiot Neil Morrisey was thinking he could turn it into a gastro-pub and brew his own beer, before then heading towards Arkendale.  The return to Harrogate was a fairly familiar one through Goldsborough and along the riverside, before the all to familiar ascent of Knaresborough Hill.  The rain was now fairly steady so the sight of Cafe Rosso, some nice hot Cappuccino and some food was very welcome.

I nice steady 30 mile ride, but by the end of it we were all soaked!

PARIS ROUBAIX CHALLENGE 2012

5 a.m is not he ideal time to be stuffing yourself with bread, cereal and pancakes, but a 40 mile coach trip to arrive in St Quentin for the 7.30 am start didn’t really give us much option. By the time we set off, the thermometer was telling us that it was four degrees centigrade, but with a promise of blue skies and warmer conditions for later in the day. Whilst the event gives you something approaching a professional experience, this doesn’t include team cars where you can dump extra layers of clothing as the day warms up, so there was much debate as to what to wear.

We arrived at the start about twenty minutes before the first group was going to be released. Gendarmes were unloading moto cross bikes from trailers, and riding them around the start area, standing on the footrests and revving the engines. If the cheesy music blaring over the PA hadn’t already woken up the whole neighbourhood, then they would surely wake up anyone who was still sleeping.

It has seemed like a good idea at the time when my pal Richard had blagged us better start numbers, moving us into the third group to set off. As we lined up, I was less sure. Lots of young guys, team bikes, matching jerseys, shaved legs. A slight feeling of being out of my depth came over me. This was reinforced for the first couple of kilometres. There was no gentle warm up, no taking it easy just to get your legs going. The speed was high right from the second we crossed the line. Fortunately I was sticking to my plan –‘slipstream a fat Belgian’. Except there weren’t any fat Belgiians, just fit looking French club cyclists.

As we left town the roads opened up a bit, and I found I could move around the group reasonably well. After about 10k, there was a slight rise in the road, and as the group slowed a bit, I found myself getting nearer and nearer the front. I drew up alongside Richard and just said ‘I’m not wasting this’. I moved up and up the line until I found myself on the front of the group. I just stuck my head down and pedalled as hard as I could. It was an amazing feeling – ahead of me nothing but two motorbikes and a French sunrise, behind me a 300 strong peleton, all strung out. It was probably the best moment I’d ever had on a bike.

The speed stayed high, but I found that I could stay in the top twenty or so riders without too much trouble, just riding in the wheels of others, sometimes closing gaps as they appeared. We passed a sign saying that we had already covered 20k, and when I looked at my watch, we’d been going 32 minutes.

After 38k on rolling roads, and a crazy average speed we arrived in a village called Troisville. I knew this name held some vague memory for me, and then I realised why, as we rounded a bend and saw the first stretch of pave. This was what we’d come for!

Nothing, but nothing, can describe the bumping, jarring shaking sensation of hitting the cobbles. It’s almost impossible to hold the bars properly, and even the noise is almost deafening as every part of your bike seems as if it’s about to shake itself to bits. Looking around is difficult, changing gear almost impossible. In the dry, like it was for us, you can at least ride down some of the gutters at the side, but you need to be careful of the huge potholes. The other option is to ride straight down the middle, on the crown of the road, where the stones haven’t been quite so badly damaged by farm traffic. The problem with the ‘gutter option’ is that the other gutter always looks better that the one you’re in, so you spend half your time switching sides, and having to get across the cobbles. All the sections were marked at the start to say how long they are, so at least I had some idea of what was ahead. At the end of the first section, the 300 strong group I was in had completely disintegrated, but there were enough riders around to get into a fair sized group and keep a decent speed up.

This was how the ride continued – every group I got in seemed to work together quite well, and I started to notice that I was seeing the same people time after time. Each section of pave broke groups up, but there was always another group to join.

Then, on a fast straight bit of road when I was in a group of about 15, someone shouted ‘Arenberg, Arenberg’. I looked ahead, and could see a long avenue of high trees with a huge gantry high above. I recognised it from hundreds of old cycling magazines and films – one of the most famous bits of road in the history of cycling – the Arenberg forest. All of the group looked at each other nervously, and the chap to my right, on a very nice steel Colnago told me it was best to try to stay to the right, because the road was better there.

Hitting the cobbles here made everything that had gone before seem easy. It was as if someone had laid a dry stone wall flat, and called it a road. I’m sure its a lovely place for a bike ride, as there’s even a nice cycle path down one side, which the organisers had thoughtfully cordoned off to ensure the authenticity of our experience. I rode some of it in the gutter, but made sure the photographer got me when I was riding straight down the middle of the road. There was quite a bit of celebrating at the end of the Arenberg, before the routine of getting into a fast group to make up time was resumed.

I never saw a sign for Roubaix, but there were signs counting off each 20k that we had covered. At the last feed I downed a couple of cokes and a banana, and a nice chap in a beret told me there was 30k left to cover. I never saw a sign for Roubaix in all this time, but noticed that the cobbled sectors had counted down to just one to go. I recognised the long straight run towards the velodrome from seeing it so many times on television. Its actually quite a steady climb, but I was so full of adrenaline that it didn’t seem to matter. I saw one large building which looked like a stadium, but realised that it was too modern to be the velodrome. Then, over the rooftops I could see the floodlight pylons, again familiar from my youth.

There’s one last piece of token cobbles on the approach to the velodrome, which just made me think of Eurodisney for some reason, Probably because it just seemed so artificial. Then a right turn, a long sweeping left, and the entry to the velodrome itself. I must admit I was pretty overwhelmed thinking of some other people who’d ridden that very bit of road. Not just the modern generations of greats like Boonen and Cancellara, but so many other names ran through my mind – Museuw, Kelly, Hinualt, de Vlaemick, Merckx, Coppi………and now me.

I’d ridden the last few kilometres entirely on my own, which meant I got the chance to fulfil a boyhood dream. I rode into the stadium completely alone. I could hear the commentator on the PA, and enjoyed the brief applause of people lining the entrance, all probably eagerly awaiting someone they knew. Another surge of adrenalin and emotion helped increase my speed as I came into the final straight. I’d lived this moment many times as a boy, so I knew what to do….Pull jersey straight, adjust glasses to the right angle, sit up, lift my arms and coast over the line.

Absolutely bloody fantastic!

The gathering outside the school gates at 8.30 was more like a bike catwalk, with some new pieces of carbon on display for the first time this season, alongside some new riders, which were great to see.  Today’s route was always going to be a hilly one, so we eased ourselves into the ride by heading out of Harrogate over the packhorse bridge at Knox Mill and onto Hampsthwaite before the first climb of the day up Clint Bank.  From here it was on through Shaw Mills and right at the old Drovers Arms.  However, just before turning left up Careless House Lane, we were nearly run off the road by some *&^%head, whose life was obviously so precious that being held up for a couple of seconds by a group of cyclists was obviously too much.  He even had the audacity to turn his van and block the road so we couldn’t go anywhere.  If you ever see a grey van with the reg FL05 ACF – then steer clear!!

So, after that little contra-tent, we made our way up Careless House Lane to Brimham Rocks, before then heading up onto Dallowgill Moor, passing the Sonley Pothole, before turning right at the top of Silverhill.  We were then greeted by the most amazing views down onto Gouthwaite Reservoir and Upper Nidderdale.  We descended down Silverhill and through Wath, before taking over the Willow Tea Rooms overlooking the Nidd River.

After lots of banter and a re-fuel, the group split into two, with one group heading back down through Nidderdale to Harrogate, with another group having a go up Greenhow Hill.  There were a couple of Greenhow virgin’s in the group, but everyone got up 2.4mile climb without any problems.  It was then time to be rewarded with a blast down Duck Street, but before we could pick up the speed Nick B popped a spoke.  So with that taken care off it was gloves off, with Nick P setting the pace for a very swift return to Harrogate, past Menwith and back into Hampsthwaite, before returning to Harrogate back over the bridge at Knox Mill and some more coffee and cakes at Cafe Rosso.

We were then joined by Dave and Merciless Malc, who head been out TT racing and were also in need of some grub.

A really great morning in the saddle, with some amazing weather and countryside – makes you realise why you took up cycling in the first place!!

44 very hilly miles with over 3,300 ft of climbing for those that took the Greenhow option.

It was a cold and foggy start to the ride, with a couple of hardy souls getting their knees out, so to try to warm up we got going pretty quickly and headed down into Knaresborough, before turning through Scriven and Lingerfield and onto Farnham.  As the farm shop was not due to open until 10am, we then opted for a longer route out and made for Boroughbridge and out onto the Thornton Bridge road.

The pace was quite keen this morning to keep us warm, but as the route was flat, then this was not an issue and everyone was rolling along nicely.  We made good time and went through Helperby and down to Aldwark, before the final run in to Beningborough where we were met by Jonathan who had ridden down from Skelton.  The coffee and cake as usual was good, but service speeds were not the best.

There were signs of the sun trying to break through the mist as we got back on our bikes.  The route back to Harrogate was a fairly direct one over Aldwark Bridge and through Great Ouseburn.  Soon after though Malcolm’s awesome power on his TT bike made him break yet another Shimano chain.  After a quick repair, we were back on our way and returned through MArton and Arkendale before the final pull up Knaresborough Hill in glorious sunshine.

A really nice 50 mile ride.

We set off down through Knaresborough and into Farnham before taking the old Knaresborough Road to Ripon.  We picked up Phil on the way through Copgrove and were at Ripon in good time.  We stopped to see what everyone wanted to do.  Martin P looked like he had just completed the Paris-Roubaix as he was covered due to no mudguards and everyone else was soaked.  A hard core lead by Pete decided that they still wanted to go to our initial target of Masham, whilst the rest headed for Skelton-on-Ure and Boroughbridge.

With the weather worsening slightly we made our way back towards Harrogate through Arkendale, Goldsborough and along Abbey Road before everyone climbing Knaresborough Hill in the snow.  We all then went in different directions to get to our warm showers as quickly as possible to thaw out!

The ride can only be described as invigorating! 35 very cold and wet miles

Group riding was well organised today and the pace was fairly steady meaning that the 10 of us all kept together in good formation for most of the ride.  From Boroughbridge we headed out towards Thornton Bridge, before turning right and heading down into Helperby.  From here it was over the boards at Aldwark Bridge before returning to Harrogate through Wixley, Spofforth, Follifoot and Pannal before the usual coffee stop back in Harrogate at Cafe Rosso.

A good 42m ride in cold but calm conditions at an average of just over 17mph.

We then descended quickly down through Studley Deer Park, where Tim decided to have a go at cyclo-cross.  Soon after he was pulling up with a puncture – that will teach him to ride off road.  We were soon back on our way and continued through Ripon, Skelton and into Boroughbridge before heading down the A168.  On our return to Harrogate, Mark snapped his chain near Follifoot, the rest of us continued back to base with Rosso’s the destination for most.

A really nice ride with a varied route: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/140086774

Despite the cold, we had a good turnout and we started off following a familiar route down into Knaresborough and out towards Boroughbridge, before taking the Helperby road, through Helperby, Raskelf and onto Easingwold.  The roads had all been gritted which was reassuring until we turned towards Alne at Easingwold.  This road was white with frost which made for some very cautious riding down towards Aldwark Bridge.  The bridge attendant was in a festive mood, which even drew a “Merry Christmas” from Malcolm, much to the amusement of the CCC peleton.

We then made our way back towards Harrogate through Thorpe Underwood, Whixley, Cattal and Spofforth, before descending on mass to our favourite coffee shop for some much need refreshments, strudel and anything else that we could lay our hands on.

A really nice 50 mile ride.

View the route: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/135325532