A rare route variation for the Wifey Weekend Roll out. Chuff knows where we went. Good job that Strava has kept a record.
40km at a leisurely pace. I was half-asleep for most of the ride to be honest. I bolted myself behind Anna’s back wheel, and allowed her to tow me around.
I still don’t trust her wobbly de-cleating action.
Even though this was foreign territory, you still get a sense and understanding of the changing landscape.
I’m no great believer in all of this deep level topography crap, but my half-awake mind did alert me that a climb, some water or a valley was just around the corner.
I’ve probably been here in a previous life - just not as a cyclist, mind.
We had to stop at the foot of a particularly steep climb along a lane to allow a passing car to come down. A hill start was not what I was anticipating for a Sunday morning.
And then towards the run in we passed a field of freshly picked onions. The aroma was a right stink.
The farmer had left them scattered out in the field, waiting for the onions to be picked up in a bag.
You could write a whole blog about that…
Back at base and the call went out of:
‘To the Canoes!’
We’ve certainly mastered the canoe transportation and launch policy over recent months.
After a couple of years of trying and failing to attach the canoe trollies that insist on collapsing with various straps, Anna had the brainwave of reverting to a traditional seesaw method.
It works wonders.
Having access to the Sailing Club Old Hard is also ace. It’s removes any domestic incident during the transportation and launching charade that characterised our previous trips out in the canoes.
Once in the water and it was great to see so many other users now accessing the Colne. We paddled down as far as the Hythe against the turning tide, and then drifted back as the water was starting to turn.
To complete the trilogy of my new swimming and cycling power techniques, I tried something similar with the paddles. I put more power on the strokes and entered the water at a higher angle.
I only succeeded in creating a splash and getting very wet.
Later in the afternoon and time and tide featured again.
I’m pondering life without a watch. The 18th birthday present from my sister finally packed up this morning.
I’ve no idea what time this all took place - the big hand simply became dislodged and gave up on ticking around.
Not bad for 26 years service.
And so what next?
The Dandy within rather fancies a pocket watch on a chain. But that will just lead to more piss taking from the kids at school.
Do I really need a new watch? Isn’t that what my iPhone is for?
I’m planning a trip to Stuart the Watch at Brixton Market.
I cycled off into Colchester late afternoon for the St Botolphs Big Sunday. It was a lovely end of summer occasion, superbly organised, and just the right size for this type of intimate event.
The plan was to whizz around the four main venues, and then capture it all on camera. I became pleasantly delayed in the Waiting Room with the Real Ale and some good pals.
I hope that the event makes a return.
And a so a good day of doing outdoor stuff. The weather looks woeful for Bank Holiday Monday, and I’ve got work shifts all afternoons.