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To Mersea Island! …on Easter Sunday to drink BOOZE. Which should be a sufficient start and end for any blog post.

Chin chin.

But wait! What’s this?

There’s more.

The occasion of the 8th Mersea Brewery Easter Beer Festival was the end reward after the hard toil. Fourteen-ish miles in the saddle, and a cheeky half of Mersea Gold was accepted with the same grace of an Olympian completing a road time trial challenge. Mersea Silver and Bronze somehow don’t sound quite as appetitsing.

Yep, cycling is all about the social. As is the BOOZE. There’s no better way to combine both on Easter Sunday than with a random leader-less ride out towards Mersea. The best bicycle rides are always the ones that contain no structure. You turn up, you cycle, you share in the enjoyment.

Picking up folk along the way at Wivenhoe, the Hythe, and, um, just past the Badlands bridge crossing of the Strood, riding tactics were based more on conversation than physical capabilities.

It’s a lovely old run around the back of Rowhedge, climbing the Col du Fingringhoe and then freewheeling along the majestic Abberton Road, the North East Essex equivalent of rolling up along The Mall.

Country lanes and cars are never the best bedfellows. A traffic free approach, guided along by the sunrays reflecting off the Pyfleet Channel to lead the way over to Mersea. Later in the afternoon and a similar visual experience was on offer from half a Mersea Gold.

Long Johns, cycling tights and an all in one lycra body suit was the wardrobe of the day. The first echelon of the ride was formed as we hit the riding high tide of the Strood Bridge. It wasn’t formed to fight off the prevailing crosswind, but more to do with a particularly juicy piece of gossip in the cycling conversation.

River crossed, and then the great crossroads of Mersea Island presented a choice. West for the foodies and the Company Shed, or an easterly direction for the Caravan Club roadshow.

Um, hang on.

East won the day, but the Caravan Club could wait for another Bank Holiday. Mersea Brewery was on the radar, and day three of the Easter Beer Festival. Bicycles were locked up, time for some booze.

Friendly faces from the ACE Colchester CAMRA were at hand. The silly question of “what do you recommend” was met with the equally silly (but deadly serious) answer of EVERYTHING.

Beer Festival etiquette dictates that you start with the light, and then work your way towards the dark stuff. The sediment spectrum of Mersea Gold to Mud was crossed quicker than it took the cycling echelon to cross the Strood about fifteen minutes earlier.

Back ups were called for - both with booze and bicycles. Arrangements had been made to meet up with the LOVELY London Bicycle Kitchen folk, making the trek from Liverpool Street to Mersea via the Brightlingsea Foot Ferry.

The scene sitting outdoors in the Easter Sunday sun was like a rallying call to arms of bicycle and beer folk. First they came in their half dozen; then this doubled, and doubled further still. The good folk of the Brightlingsea Ferry couldn’t cope with the invasion of the Bicycle Kitchen in one crossing.

Tales of cycling culture in Sunny Colch were shared with the Shoredtich experience. It was sobering (of sorts) to find out that there isn’t that much of a gulf. Lycra tights in Colchester translate to M & S tights for the East London lot. Suits you Sir, etc.

Mersea based band The Rising struck up the first power chord shortly after midday, strumming out some Springsteen all the way through until around 3pm. Fine work fellas in keeping the toes tap, tap tapping away to safeguard against the impending frostbite.

Time and tide etc, which meant that it was soon time for a Chapeau! A high spring tide was scheduled for the Strood. The Bike Kitchen boys and girls showed their London foodie credentials by heading west for some oysters. Fear of being stranded in East Mersea led to the reverse ferret back to Fingringhoe.

A BRILLIANT beer fest festival, and an even better bicycle ride. We’ll return the cycling exchange over the summer months and visit the London Bicycle Kitchen. Any excuse to put on a pair of M & S tights.

Chapeau!