Monday 19 September 2022

To the lakes!

I left the house this morning around 0809hrs, keeping a weather eye on my surroundings and looking out for patrolling police cars and royalists attempting to keep everybody indoors watching the funeral on TV, not that my television is working; it might well be we need a new one. There was little in the way of traffic on the roads and I didn't see a single cop car, let alone marauding royalists and Brexiteers sniffing out anybody with republican tendencies. But who was I kidding? Nobody was going to stop me from cycling, nobody was out to get me and nobody cares what I'm up to. I was, quite simply, in the clear. Today was a long one: a ride to the lakes in Chipstead, Kent. The plan was to meet Andy there at 0930 but there was no flask. Flasks are old money, pre-Covid cycling when we used to sit in fields, on benches, taking shelter from the rain at a covered bus stop. Not any more. There was no meeting point other than at our destination and if you need proof that things have changed in the world of No Visible Lycra just scroll back through the pages of this blog, pick a random year, a random month and you will see how things have changed. Now we meet at our destinations, be it Westerham, Tatsfield or the lakes at Chipstead village in Kent. In many ways, it's better the way it is now, it's simpler. We fix on a venue and we meet there and then we say goodbye until the next time. I think we both prefer it. But sometimes it's good to look back, as I did when we both stood on the small green opposite the pub with the lakes behind us, a lonely paddle boarder making their way across the big lake, presumably from Chevening Sailing Club. 

The Rockhopper on Clarks Lane, Monday 19th September 2022

We are less excitable about being out in all weathers, unlike in the old days. I recalled Twats of the Antarctic and other posts that saw us suffering in snow and rain and sleet and heavy winds, but who wants to risk injury? Not Andy. And who can blame him? Only months ago he almost had to undergo a hip replacement after coming off his bike thanks to black ice on the road. Best to use a turbo trainer as the nights get longer rather than risk another trip to the hospital and the pain of recovery. Andy and I used to boast of being all-weather riders, 12 months per year we were out there, wearing balaclavas and scarfs and heavy jackets, anything to keep the bad weather at bay as we rode out in the dark, past iced-up windscreens and frosted pathways, the grass verges frozen and ice-tipped as we rode towards Warlingham Green, which, to me, resembles a closed railway station. Similarly the Tatsfield Bus Stop, once our refuge from the ravages of winter, now little more than a piece of wood at the top of Approach Road that sometimes I see other riders using. I can't even refer to it anymore as 'our bus stop' because it isn't, and it never was, of course. Only the other day, sitting in the comfort of Sheree's Tearoom in Tatsfield village, I pointed out that the old wooden bus stop opposite the Ship pub, was also one of our 'homes', another of our shelters from the storm, but now we sit in the warmth of the cafe with tea served in china cups and possibly a slice of cake. In short, we prefer our comfort. Visiting the caff used to be a rare treat, something we savoured, but now it's routine, something we always do and let's face it we both like it; no, wait a minute, we love it! I can't think of anything better than visiting Costa at the end of an 11-mile ride to Westerham or a 10-mile ride to Oxted where I have the choice of Costa, Caffe Nero or Starbucks. And I know I've been going on and on about how great the weather has been, but it has, it's been wonderful. I checked today and ever since April I've been riding to places like Biggin Hill and Oxted on a Saturday morning and stopping for tea or coffee in the sunshine, relaxing in the open air. The sun has been shining all year and as the year has progressed the temperatures have increased. I've been riding to work, as you know, in the heat, and riding back, in the heat. Only now have things changed. There is a nip in the air, I'm wearing the gloves again and I'm putting on a hat under my helmet to keep warm... and it's only September. But listen, even now, mid-September, it's warm, but a little cooler in the early mornings.

Andy and our bikes at Chipstead lakes, Kent, 19th September

I rode the usual route to the lakes, along Pilgrims Lane all the way, turning right towards Chipstead Village and sailing into the village where, it transpired, I was first to arrive. I answered the call of nature behind a bush and when I stepped back on the stage of the green there was Andy. He too had followed Pilgrims Lane and was riding his mountain bike. Andy had bought a Thermos flask with enough water for a couple of cups of coffee. I bought some water with me, but opted for a cup of Andy's instant coffee, which did the job. We chatted about the instransigence of managers in business and how they have no idea of how to incentivise their staff to make money for the business. That and our reminiscing about old times and those extreme weather jaunts summed up our chat, we paid scant attention to the lake itself because there wasn't that much to see... and let's face it, we've seen it all before, although it's worth pointing out that for a very long time both of us have tended to visit the lakes alone, normally on a whim when either myself or Andy wasn't riding. I think the last time I was there was during the pandemic. I remember it well because when I reached the patch of green in front of the pub there was a honey monster soft toy on one of the benches and that might well have been the last time I was there. Andy's the same, sometimes he says he rode to the lakes alone. But there have been some great rides to the lakes, like back in April 2011 when we rode there with Andy's pal Richard and overdid the Nuptial Ale (in celebration of the wedding of Prince William to Kate Middleton).

The lakes - it's been a long time since we've been here together

The lakes has always been one of those far-off destinations for a regular weekend ride, it's that extra five miles beyond Westerham and it's always been rare to visit purely because we've all got other things to do. But not today. Today is the day of the Queen's funeral, 19 September 2022 and with nothing on television but that event and a lot of people staying in to watch it, a ride to the lakes seemed like a good idea as no coffee shops would be open and that's why we needed the flask. Last night I saw one in Sainsbury's, or it might have been the night before, but it was £28! That's a lot of money to fork out for a small flask, and, as Andy rightly remarked, there's little point as these days we rarely do what we used to do, ie sit at the Tatsfield Bus Stop where there is no Costa or Starbucks and, therefore, the need for a flask of hot water and some tea bags is very real. 

Crossing over motorways on the return ride out of Chipstead

I never checked my watch so I have no idea of what time we left, but I got home around 1145hrs. We rode out of Chipstead village together but Andy then bade me farewell and sped up; soon he was out of sight. You must remember that Andy is now super fit in cycling terms, he rides long distances and takes them in his stride, he's lost a lot of weight and he's certainly faster than I am. I don't want to hold him back. Don't get me wrong. I'm much fitter too than I was during the pre-Covid days. Remember that back then we tended to ride once or twice a week and only three times when there was a bank holiday. Today I'm trying to put in four rides per week, two of them to Redhill where I work as the ride back is a real work-out. Andy has a trainer in his garage and can be found on it virtually every day (if the weather looks iffy) and then he cycles with Oxted CC on a Saturday morning and can cover as much as 80 miles depending on the route taken. So things have changed, but for the best I think, we're both fitter for a start, which is a good thing, and long may it continue.

Corn fields on Pilgrims Lane on the return ride

On the way home...