onionbagblog

Where to roll out to this weekend as the Spring Classic season continues?

The Milan - San Remo maybe? What about Gent - Weveglem? Or perhaps Paris - Roubaix?

Um, how about the Weely Circular? You cycle out to Weely, turn around [aha!] and then retrace your route back to base.

Chapeau!

Actually there was a little more aesthetics planned into the Saturday afternoon of cycling. The legendary - and illusive - Landmere Quay was the challenge. Officially not visible online via Mr Google Maps, but by all accounts, something of one of the prettiest locations around these North Essex estuary wilds.

Off the radar but most certainly not off limits when it comes to the freedom that two wheels allows you. Make it to Kirby-le-Soken and you should be OK was the manta. Logic doesn’t allow for random toilet stops and getting in a flap with your all in one lycra bodysuit.

Whoops.

But it’s not about arriving; it’s about the journey.

Yeah yeah - Never Trust a Hippie. I’m learning to trust with some great reliance my Giant roadie though. Recently serviced by Chapeau Velo, the old girl is clicking through the big cogs and cranking up the chain ring with ease.

Tenpenny Hill has now become my gauge as to how good the ride to follow will be. I’ve dropped down a gear to get me over the top, I’ve found my rhythm, I’ve found my cadence and I’ve found the added energy that Bran Flakes give you for breakfast.

I powered through to the peak of Tenpenny Hill at the speed (and sound) of wind.

And relax.

This was the first day of the Spring Classic season where fingerless gloves made an appearance. It was also a day for deep cycling pockets - water, energy bars, phone, camera, condoms - be prepared, etc. Never underestimated the power of a lubricant when it comes to DIY puncture repair.

I ploughed on up Plough Road with the road abandoned for bicycles only. Not a single car took me from behind in the run up to Great Bentley. My turn of speed speed caught the wind trying to penetrate through my helmet.

Gosh.

It was an unnerving sensation. Once you are focussed and trying to keep up the rotations per minute, strange thoughts cross through your mind. The sound of the wind breaking through can be mistaken for a car coming up the rear. Look behind and you’ll be flat on your arse come the next pothole.

Turn, turn, turn.

A slight pause for a hit and miss photo shoot in Great Bentley. The sheer expanse of the 43-acre Green has a mystical element all to itself. Cycle to the outer edges and you’ll fall off into the seething pit of the Essex / Tendring border basement of gloom.

Here be the A133, etc.

The fag end of the football season was being played out on one of the many pitches. It has been a triumphant nine months for both sides, if the beer bellies were any indicator. You don’t achieve such proportions by not celebrating three points every Saturday evening.

Eyes right and there was a sign of things to come. The cricket wicket was being rolled, with the old pavilion also receiving a lick of fresh white paint. That’s a helluva boundary for any slogger wanting to hit six during a Great Bentley away fixture.

Photo shoot over, all cleated up and ready to resume the chase out towards Landemere Quay. The wide-open spaces on the run in to Weely would have split the peloton - had there been one. Instead I was left flapping around with only a scarecrow for company in the nearby field. Cycling is all about solitary thoughts. A serene setting advances this a stage further.

A pheasant crossed my path, causing a slight jitter of the bowels. There is never a good time to take a toilet stop whilst out on a bicycle - unless you are approaching Weely Sports and Social Club that is.

Another Saturday afternoon game was about to kick off, and so I took the opportunity to gatecrash the ref’s own private toilet facility. The Man in Black was pleasant enough toilet cubicle company. I had something of a costume malfunction with the all in one lycra body suit. Sometimes you have to be a contortionist in order to get all the right pipes guided towards the correct exit points.

I’ve no idea what the significance of the game was at the Weely Sports and Social Ground. Something quite tense, if the sight of the goalie chucking up his guts before he walked towards the pitch was any indicator.

Steady the buffers, fella.

And then that should have been Landmere Quay. Thorpe-le-Soken, Kirby Cross and up toward Kirby-le-Soken. Mr Google Maps had burned the image into my mind and on to my iPhone. But the offline world just wasn’t working. I tried to reload reality, but Landmere Quay couldn’t be seen.

Hey hoe.

I hammered it home, having the best run so far of the Spring Classic season. There’s talk of a 50-mile plus ride coming up. The Weely Circular was a fine warm up, even if the route got a little waylaid with wee wees and the lack of Landmere Quay.

Chapeau!