Reg and Weenie reunited!

On Saturday CC got married. My faithful stoker and good friend is now the wife of a thoroughly nice young man who recognises that while he will be her husband, I will always be her captain. The tandem to Brighton, here, here, here and here got a mention in the speeches and it was wonderful. The day was just beautiful and suffused with love.

The next day, high on the loveness, I decided to cycle to Twickenham to see my sister on her birthday. Reg's tyres were flat from lack of use and I realised an ex-colleague still had my minipump and bits from borrowing them on a ride but I have spares so I packed them up and set off.

It was very weird to be on Reg again. His tyres seemed unnaturally skinny and hard after the fat eclair types of the Boris Bikes and the position was very different. Having a single pannier felt distinctly odd. My wrist felt fine though so we set off. I definitely took it easier than I would have done pre-wrist break and I walked the busiest roundabout on the way as I wasn't sure which lane I needed, the headwind was horrendous, but the experience was FAB.

The wind streamed through my helmet, the wheels spun at the merest push and I seemed to fly down to the river. I laughed and smiled the whole way because it felt so good to be back on my bike. After seeing my sisters and exchanging pressies (hurray for pressies) I set off home. Without the horrible headwind I was quicker getting home despite the familiar, right in the bum ache that comes with cycling distance after a long break.

Bliss.

A weekend of wows

It was a bittersweet weekend.

I missed Mr Weenie a lot but went out a lot too.

After wine at a leaving do on Friday night I carried Reg up and down many stairs, took him in a lift and eventually arrived home knackered only to have sleep evade me as I subconsciously waited for Mr Weenie to come home.

Saturday morning I took George the tandem to my parents' house. Moomin and I giggled our way through Ealing backstreets to music school, where various children oohed and aahed at his magnificence. Moomin agreed that hills are easier with two pushing.

Afterwards it was rugby time and I set off with my sister and dad to the Stoop in Twickenham to watch the Harlequins beat the Sale Sharks in an excellent game that involved a lot of beer and shouting. I've never been to a pro game and it was really exciting and masses of fun. I've always liked the attitude of rugby supporters and, many hours later, when I took a cab home, the driver agreed they were lovely. Originally from Leeds and not a rugby fan, he'd not worked the first few match days just in case. When he eventually did, two rival fans were in the back and he was feeling uneasy. His fears proved unfounded though as they debated both teams' performance in an amicable fashion. He now loves being called to pick up both players and supporters.

Eventually Sunday rolled around and, unfortunately, it was time for George to go home. His owner had very kindly said he could be left with the nearby bicycleslut. I had coffee with her and Julian and met their beautiful quails and chooks. I was sent off with a King's ransom in quails' eggs, three of which I had for breakfast. Mmmmmmmmm mini egg goodness....

To top off this most excellent weekend I then visited a secret bunker. A secret bicycle bunker. So secret I can't disclose anything. But.....

My goodness, it was amazing. Bikes of all shapes and sizes adorned the walls and even the ceiling. None of these new pre-built ones either, but lovingly restored ones, other rescued ones awaiting restoration, custom builds with beautiful metalwork and many more. It was magnificent to behold and somewhat humbling.

All in all a fab weekend, now all I need is for Mr Weenie to come home!

Gorgeous George and a Friday disaster

On Friday morning I picked up a beautiful and marvellous machine.

After the March FNRttC's tandem success CC and I were keen to give it another go. Charles had lent us the last one (Miranda) but he was prohibitively far away to collect and drop it off.

The lovely Bicycle Slut had responded to my question of whether she knew of a tandem I could borrow with the response 'Of course!'. Her equally lovely partner the Lady Julian has parents in Harrow and they were willing to lend us their Dawes.

I set off to their house full of hope and they didn't disappoint. I arrived to see a red and black beauty sitting in the drive with huge puffy tyres and sit-up handlebars on the back. J, Julian's dad, talked me through the various bits and bobs before announcing he would drive me home with it. Reeling from the shock of the niceness I climbed into the car and we headed off.

Not only is he cool enough to own a tandem, he also keeps bees. What a guy.

Back in Ealing I took dad for lunch and then cycled the newly christened 'George' to my house. It was surprisingly easy to maneuver and balance.

That night the signs were not auspicious. It hammered it down at around 9pm and then drizzled. At Hyde Park Corner I was dubious. CC arrived looking bedraggled having been drenched as she left the house. The rain eased and we decided to go for it. George is a comfy ride and we set off with aplomb. It's a fairly flat route and, frankly, apart from a heavy shower as we left London, the ride went without incident until we neared the halfway point.

There had been an accident. A shunt had a domino effect and A2 was the final victim. He smiled bravely and waved us on. We waited for him at the service station.

He arrived and said he was ok, we iced the right elbow he'd fallen onto and we had coffee. But then it happened. The colour suddenly drained from his face and he looked very unwell indeed. I decided to get bossy and ordered him to lie down. We found a quiet spot and raised his legs. I went to get ride leader Simon and the decision was taken to call an ambulance.

They came quickly and Simon called the rest of us to attention. We would continue under the co-leader's direction. CC came over. She had decided to go with Andrew as I could pilot the tandem alone and, as she didn't have a bike, she could take care of A2's and get him home.

We said goodbye and I joined the rest of the group. Many calls of 'Where's your stoker?' were answered and we set off.

I had forgotten about the big hill. The Bread and Cheese is steep and nasty with a false ending that fools you into thinking it's over before going steep again. A charming policeman took my pannier and we set off. I made it. I even passed someone.

The back of the ride broken I was able to get George to Southend with only a couple of hairy moments, mainly involving tight turns. I wolfed a hot breakfast and thanked all I could for their support. I'm fairly sure a few of them had stuck with me to make sure I'd be ok.

Luckily, Bicycle Slut and the Lady Julian were also on a tandem (a hugely swanky custom build) and, as they live near me, we decided to head home together.

Getting two tandems on a train is tricky but, apart from a very drunk rude man (he called us Conservatives, the very nerve), we had a nice train journey home chatting about all sorts. Back in London they led me in convoy with another bike back to Hyde Park where I decided to take the train from Paddington rather than cycle home.

The final challenge was carrying George down the stairs at Hanwell, it sapped my last bit of energy and, once indoors, I stepped into a hot shower before sinking into the bed with Mr Handsome purring along side.

It was a challenge I rose to, but when Mr Weenie arrived home and decided to get into bed with me for a nap, I was glad it was over.

The tandem: Pictures

At the top of Ditchling it was beautiful. Well worth the climb (almost)











Those of us who were already at the top took a well-earned rest waiting for the other riders.












The pink avengers on the sea front, proof that CC is always photogenic as no one should look that good after a ride of that magnitude.

The tandem: Ditchling, the final frontier

Refreshed and full of KitKatty goodness, CC and I decided to go for it.

CC hates getting off her bike and has an amazingly stubborn attitude about hills, she successfully conquered Ditchling on her first go in June last year. I just wanted to prove the doubters wrong but, secretly, was terrified I'd let CC down. On the same ride that she'd mastered it, I'd had to give up before I'd even seriously begun because my knee hurt and I just didn't think I could do it.

As we began the ascent we passed a group who had stopped at a layby before the hill began, we could have stopped there but decided an uphill start on the tandem was just not a good idea. A few of the bystanders cheered as we passed before the trees either side of the road closed in and we were encased in a steep green tunnel.

Although alone to begin with, there were others on the journey, to our shock we passed a couple and then we saw some walkers. Ditchling curves so you can't see where it ends and each corner is a fresh mini-hill. You can start off optimistic and quickly lose hope. I was a walker last year so steered clear of them, and would never have mocked. CC and I were forced to call out to one walker though as she veered in front of us as we climbed. We had announced our presence but had to call repeatedly for her to move.

If one of us flagged the other would encourage and that's how it went for the whole climb. As more people abandoned their bikes to walk we start to overtake larger clumps of people and many of them cheered us on and shouted encouragement.

At this point I felt like someone had thrown a cup of brine in my face as the sweat was so heavy, sexy in the extreme, I'm sure you'd agree.

There's a sign with a horse on it on the last curve and we kept our eyes glued to the horizon willing it to appear. When it finally did I nearly cried. That last corner was murder and it was only a shout of 'It's the tandem! And they're still on!!' that kept my legs going. As we crested the hill it was all too tempting to just stop dead in the road but I was determined that we would glide to a stop in style. A gorgeous dog was ahead as his owner was chatting to some of the riders. My aim was that we would stop near it so I could pet it.

We had made it. After CC and I had laid Miranda gently down and hugged in an overly emotional manner I rang my mum, who had texted to check I was ok. I proudly announced that CC, the tandem and I were at the top of Ditchling, 'Did you push it?' was the reply.

After Ditchling there are a few more dips and swells before the descent into Brighton and it didn't take long for the adrenaline high to wear off. Yes, we were nearly there, but we were also exhausted. Talk was of breakfasts and we spent the last half hour detailing what exactly we would eat. It was the smell of the sea that enlivened us and, as we swept onto the sea front, CC even took her hands of her handlebars to do jazz hands as we came to rest at the Madeira cafe. We stuffed ourselves with fried tasties and regaled our experience to Charles, owner of Miranda.

As we prepared to leave we went to say goodbye and thank you to Mr Fabulous for yet another great FNRttC. It's a bit like getting an audience with the king as there's always a queue. We thanked him and received the highest honour possible:

'I underestimated you girls, I thought it would be a disaster and didn't think you could do it. You've proved me wrong, I've never seen such commitment.'

With the equivalent of a cycling knighthood ringing in our ears we headed for the station, CC on Reg and Charles and I back on Miranda. We thanked Charles profusely for lending us his fabulous machine and got on the train home. We ended up with bicycleslut (owner of the penny farthing) and J (a fellow Uxbridge Roader). They own a tandem and a prior conversation with them was part of my inspiration.

What better way to end such a weird experience than to sit next to a penny farthing?

I got home and showered before settling down for a nap with Mr Handsome. As I dozed off I reflected on our achievement and sent CC a text:

We are actually certifiably mad.

Then I slept and dreamt of Miranda.

The tandem: The magical KitKat

CC and I had arrived at the halfway scout hut against many people's expectations and the surreal nature of the challenge started to sink in.

I didn't mention it in the first post but joining us on the ride were a full-size penny farthing and a double height bike. I shall endeavor to find pictures!

Having decided to name our trusty steed Miranda we had begun to talk about her as if she were another person on the journey. Even more surprising was the realisation that we were nowhere near the back of the pack, and we watched those arriving after us join the food queue with a growing sense of pride.

Climbing back aboard we faced the problem that plagued us throughout the ride, namely that people refused to let us on the road and we were cut up mercilessly and repeatedly.

We tootled without incident until we hit Turner's Hill. It's a nasty and sharp shock that's steep and vicious but short. We got a decent run up and went for it. We passed several people as we made the ascent and, at the top, were rewarded with Mr Fabulous's comment that he knew experienced tandem riders who wouldn't have made it. It was just a comment but I was greatly cheered by it and we led the cheers as the guy on the double height bike made it up.

It should have been a great stretch after this but we finally hit problems. The claustrophobia of the stoker position started to tell as CC became convinced we were on a tilt and suffered something a lot like vertigo. Having already decided to be sensible on downhills we went at a snail's pace and stopped a couple of times to ensure she felt able to continue. Then, as we re-established our rhythm the pannier rack went weird and the pannier caught on the rear wheel. We had to stop and, for the first and only time, needed the assistance of the rear riders to get going. The pannier was put in the sag wagon and we were ever more determined to finish.

What we failed to realise was that the pannier contained all of our emergency rations and, as we approached Ditchling Beacon, this came as a nasty shock.

For those of you unfamiliar with Ditchling, it's horrendous. Around a mile of solid uphill that never seems to end. CC had managed it solo before but I hadn't and was dreading it. Even experienced riders often fail to get up it on-bike and many believe doing it on a tandem is even more difficult.

Exhausted and with Cathy still suffering vertigo-like symptoms, it looked bleak. Then a realisation dawned: I had a KitKat in my jersey pocket. I straightened in my saddle at the thought and an ill-sounding CC enquired as to my shift in position. When I told her we both near-wept with joy. It sound ridiculous but it's true.

At the last stop before the ascent we pulled over and shared the four-finger bar. Our spirits lifted and, suddenly, we knew that we could do it. We set off with purpose and decided we going to get up that hill even if it killed us.....

The tandem: An inauspicious start

Eleven pm on Friday night saw a nervous weenie standing alone at Hyde Park Corner.

I was waiting for the tandem to arrive. Charles had agreed to lend it to CC and me and we were going to attempt the Brighton FNRttC on it. With only an hour to practice, I knew we were pushing it, but the contingency planning was in place. If we really didn't get the hang of it Charles would ride it with us taking turns as his partner, he would be on the ride (on Reg) the whole way so would be on hand in case anything went wrong and, as he was riding Reg, I knew we had all the repair kit for both bikes.
This ride involved a LOT of novices who were raising money for their local hospice so the pace was fairly light. Plus we had a 'sag wagon' in case of disaster. All good.

More importantly, we both had our matching pink jerseys on.

Disaster struck early on, he was late (trains, eugh). He arrived at about 11.20pm and we got to work. I tried both positions but I had already decided in my head that I wanted to go on the front (the term is 'be the captain'). It was, however, good to give the back (or 'stoker' position) a go so that I could help Cathy when she arrived. She got there at 11.30pm and we did a couple of circuits.

Then ride leader Mr Fabulous arrived, and he was NOT happy. He thought it would be a disaster and we were treated to stern words and a glare as we headed to sign up. CC and I were determined that we would not cause him problems.

The hardest part of the ride for me is getting off Hyde Park Corner. On this ride there were close to 100 cyclists and I hate pack cycling. This, combined with the turning circle of a boat on an unfamiliar machine, was a challenge. We smacked it. We held our nerve and sailed through. Keeping up communication with 'stopping', 'braking' and 'changing gear' being shouted frequently, we set off into the night, establishing a good rhythm from early on.

We headed through London and were soon feeling like pros. Aside from a hairy moment while squeezing through a small gap to get onto the road off Mitcham Common, we were fine. And this was lucky as we soon hit the first on the hills. It's not a steep one but it goes on FOREVER.

Hilariously, we overtook several riders on out way to the top. Once there, we discovered part of why Mr Fabulous was sceptical. What goes up must come down, and down and down. Reigate Hill is very steep and the combined weight of two people on a tandem means you pick up speed VERY fast. Again, CC and I were of a similar mind: we'll ride the brakes, life is better than speed.

We cautiously made our way down. On the front I could see everything and knew we were fine but CC was the brave one as, riding blind, she completely trusted my instincts and we reached the bottom intact and still friends.

After this excitement the rest of the ride seemed uneventful. Our main problem was being cut up by other riders and, at the rest stops, no one would let us out so we were often left battling to get back to the middle from the back.

The halfway point was a scout hut in Horley where sandwiches, hot tea and cake were on hand to greet us. We ate, drank and felt refreshed. At the last minute, a tray of KitKats was passed round. Despite being full and having food in our pannier I tucked one into my jersey pocket. Little did I know that this decision was the difference between success and failure.....

Tandem

I didn't announce in advance in case we backed out but, on Friday, Cathy and I attempted a Friday Night Ride to the Coast on a tandem.

It was the Brighton run (the hilliest one) and neither of us had ever been on one before. I will blog about it at length but it'll take time to find the right words to describe what was a bizarre but amazing ride.

Keep your eyes on the skies.....