To the Tatsfield Bus Stop...the slow way

Just when we thought we'd exhausted all the angles...an aerial shot!

I had been expecting unbearable cold: frosted cars, a frantic search for the balaclava, three jumpers and, of course, the gloves. But when I opened the front door and stepped outside, once again I was surprised to discover that it was fairly warm and, while I did eventually put on the gloves (in retrospect a good move) there was a moment when I thought I'd leave them behind.

I rode off alone to Warlingham Green, turning left into Ellenbridge, bearing left and then turning left on to Southcote Road and then hanging a right and riding up Elmfield Way towards Morley Road and a left turn followed by a right into Church Way.

The streetlights were still on as I climbed towards the church and then crossed into the churchyard and Sanderstead Pond where, for some reason, the ducks were a little more active than usual. Most of the time they are sitting on the bank, heads buried in their necks, but today it was as if there was some kind of regatta going on.

The bikes on a misty Beddlestead Lane. Photo credit: Andy Smith.

Sanderstead High Street's shops were coming to life. I spied a man in the estate agents taking off his suit jacket and making himself comfortable at his desk and then I passed the Shell garage with its illuminated forecourt and then Waitrose, a dim light letting slip that the store had yet to open.

The Limpsfield Road is pretty suburban on both sides all the way to the Green where Andy was waiting. We decided to head for Tatsfield Village again, the slow way, but when we turned left on to Clarks Lane after a gruelling ride up Beddlestead Lane, we opted instead for the bus stop where we did what we always do: eat cereal bars and drink tea.

Why so many padlocks when you could easily climb over?

The slow ride was good, especially Beddlestead Lane, and Andy and I kept abreast of one another all the way, stopping to take photographs half way along and then forging ahead steadily, passing a man walking his dog and a few cyclists, although not as many as usual.

While most of the time there was no cold weather – not really cold at any rate – there were times when we realised winter was coming. Any downhill stretch brought the cold and I noticed it later on as I rode down Church Way.

The weathermen had predicted that Saturday would be better than Sunday, but here's hoping there won't be a frost or rain tomorrow. With the weather getting colder and damper we opt for covered bus stops to avoid damp seats, which in turn means our options are more limited. There's Tatsfield Village and, of course, the bus stop, but I'd have to wrack my brains to think of other destinations that offer us cover and a dry place to park ourselves.

Atom Heart Mother? Cows grazing near Botley Hill.

Update on the Warlingham dead body...

More news on the body found in a well in a house in Warlingham, Surrey: it's been in the well (or wherever it was they found it) for two years and there is a suggestion, by some, that the killing had something to do with rival car wash businesses.

To Tatsfield Village...the slow way

Sunday 17th November: Westerham had been mooted, but in the end we opted for Tatsfield Village, the slow way. I'd half expected frost on the ground this morning, but when I peered out around 6am, there was nothing. In fact, it wasn't really that cold. Here we are mid-November and I've yet to don the gloves.

Phil aborted so it was just Andy and I that headed out from Warlingham Green towards Sainsbury's and beyond.

When I awoke this morning, the television news was talking about a body being found in Warlingham. The body of a male or female? That was the question and forensics were looking into it; the body had been found in a well and seven people were under arrest. News reports suggested that a house full of Eastern Europeans were under suspicion.

The Warlingham Green Christmas tree in all its glory

As I cycled along the Limpsfield Road towards the Green I wondered how far I might be from the gruesome discovery. Where, I wondered, was there a well in Warlingham, because that was where the body had been found.

It all happens round these parts. In fact, this sentence is written a good 12 hours later than all that has gone before it and this morning I discovered on the radio news that the body had been assaulted prior to finding itself in the well. The plot thickens, but this story has made the national news headlines for two days in a row so I'll keep you posted.

The ride was good. The weather overcast and sullen, but no rain and a slight bite in the air. The cold weather is on the way, say the weather forecasters, and it won't be long before we are greeted by frost in the mornings and biting cold air. At the moment, though, it's pretty mild out there, although I recall one November, a couple of years back, when it was so cold that somebody left an ice sculpture on the Green – that was a very cold day and then I think we had snow that Christmas (or just prior).

Riding to Tatsfield the slow way is quite a trek and we both agreed, as we hauled ourselves up Beddlestead Lane towards Clarks Lane that it was probably a better work-out than riding to Westerham – or at least on a par. I've probably said this before, but Beddlestead Lane seems never ending; there are signs along the way that mark the route, signs like the dead tree trunk that stands alone on the right hand side of the road, like a totem pole, highlighting that the end is nigh. In fact, the totem pole (as I call it) is probably the only real sign that the end of Beddlestead Lane is nigh. The rest of the road is hedgerows, fields, gates, the usual stuff you expect to find on an NVL ride.

As always on Beddlestead Lane we are passed by Lycra Monkeys, who bid us a polite 'good morning' as they overtake us – we the overladen horse and carts, they the sleek sports cars. Our bikes are 'tractors' of the highest order and certainly not ideal for the sort of riding we're predominantly doing. One topic of conversation that has risen it's ugly head many a time is that we should be riding hybrids, with more gears and thinner tyres and possibly even trade in our high spec hydraulic brakes for old-fashioned blocks. Why? Because of maintenance costs. My front pads need replacing, I've just replaced my entire rear brake, it's never-ending. As I remarked to Andy while we sat at the Tatsfield Village bus stop, my Marin Bear Valley Special Edition had something like 21 or 24 gears and in the 12 years that I  rode it (on the London to Brighton a couple of times, London to Cambridge and London to Oxford, plus the odd excursion out to Botley Hill long before Andy and I took up cycling, I never had one puncture, never had to replace the brake blocks, nothing at all. The Kona has been a completely different story, costing me, on average, about £150 per year. Still, I like it and I know that if I sell it on Ebay I'll only get about £150 so I'm holding on to it for the time being. Having said that, I've often found myself in bike shops viewing 'sensible' bikes with thinner tyres, mudguards, block brakes and the like; worryingly, it sounds like I'm gaining a bit of maturity. Next thing you know I'll be considering the value of a basket mounted on the front bars – "It's so useful!"

Warlingham Church Hall, taken Sunday evening.

We sat at Tatsfield, munching the cereal bars and drinking the tea and, in all honesty, we were missing Phil's sausage sandwiches, which last week were fantastic.

I reached home just before 10am, having parted company with Andy halfway along the 269 – we came back 'the fast way'.

More views of nowhere...near Redhill

Not far from Redhill...

Another shot of the same place...

You're never far from nowhere...

Hard to believe we were in Redhill...or not far away.

Friday lunchtime – earlier today in other words – I went for a stroll around Redhill in Surrey. I crossed the bus station and followed the road under the railway bridge, bearing left and eventually hitting a muddy footpath that opened out into wetlands. And it was wet. No rain, just mud and overflowing puddles, not forgetting the reeds and the rabbits and the mallards, disturbed by our footsteps. Not good for being on foot, but perfect, I thought, for a bike.

We were out for an hour, but there was so much that we didn't see because we had to get back to the office. Never mind, I thought, this could be one for the bikes.

While out, I took the photos accompanying this post on my iphone. It's hard to believe that I was only minutes from the centre of Redhill. You are, as I suggest in the headline, never far from nowhere.

Cough, sore throat, cold...

Andy's Kona Blast rests against a tree somewhere in
NoVisibleLycra Land.

All week I've suffered from a bout of flu. Well, alright, not flu, but let's just say that since last weekend, when I noticed I had a sore throat, it's developed first into a dry cough and then the full monty: runny nose, sneezing, you name it. In short, I had a cold and for most of the week it was manageable and by that I mean I didn't feel ill or weary or anything so I continued with work. Wednesday was the bad day. I felt terrible and looked forward (as I always do) to a Lemsip. I've written about Lemsip before because it's one of those cough and cold remedies I wouldn't mind taking when I don't have a cold. There's something retro, something calming, about Lemsip.

So the weekend hits. I'd taken Friday off (and I'm off Monday too) and I really thought I'd be up for a ride. Alright, not on Saturday, but on Sunday I thought I'd be raring to go. When I woke up, however, I had a headache and decided to abort. I think Phil was grateful for the abort as he'd had a tough week. Andy went out for a ride and took the photograph accompanying this post.

I'll be back in the saddle next week without fail, weather permitting. Actually, just for the record, I can't remember the last time I suffered the symptoms of a cold; it was probably a couple of years ago, if not longer. I'll find out and report back... okay, here I am reporting back: it was January 2011.

Actually, one of the nicest things about having a cold is when it reaches that stage when you know it's going away and it leaves you with a retro feeling. Not so much deja vu, but you feel you're living in the past, the cosy past. It's hard to explain but if you know what I mean you know what I mean, I'll say no more.

Tatsfield Bus Stop and 'that rural bit we once visited'...and we didn't get rained on

There was a strong chance of rain, said the television weather forecasters and a few people in the office, meaning that there was a strong likelihood the rides would be called off to avoid a soaking. Fortunately, the rains stayed away and both days were absolutely fine.

Not far away, but in the middle of nowhere – Phil, Matt and Andy.

Saturday we headed for the Tatsfield Bus Stop, Andy, Phil and yours truly. We went the fast way and then sat there drinking tea and munching cereal bars. Sunday and we were going to visit the old bus stop again, until I remembered a destination that doesn't really have a name because it's in the middle of nowhere, there are no benches, no covered bus stops, just grass and hills. In fact, it's not really in the middle of nowhere either, but you have to get off the 269, head down Ledgers Road and then turn right into Washpond Lane before turning left and then riding for about 20 yards until you reach a rough track that leads down to (ahem) nowhere in particular.

The off-road path is steeper than I remembered it and there are concrete speed humps that merge into the landscape and can be dangerous if you don't see them coming. We all headed down the path, brakes covered and watching out for the humps and when we finally made it, we rested our bikes against a wooden fence and climbed over to the pointless stile where, on two previous occasions, we had enjoyed our tea and cereal bars.

Today, however, it was some excellent sausage sandwiches, courtesy of Phil, who had been to our local butchers. They were pretty tasty and were washed down with three cups of tea each. If the truth be known we went a little over the top with the water. Phil brought a huge flask with him and I bought the usual flask plus one of those Thermos cups. I also brought six tea bags so to have three cups each we had to use the second bag twice.

Phil's and Matt's bikes on Warlingham Green, Sunday 3rd November 2013.

While we were standing there admiring the view and drinking tea, a group of riders came down the footpath and carried on along a track that led to a steep climb some 300 yards away. We watched them to see if they would make it up, but knowing darn well that they wouldn't make it. Sure enough they didn't make it and then Andy figured he could do better and sped off down the track. He made three attempts, but did no better and admitted the path was too steep and too slippery.

We walked halfway up the footpath and then mounted our bikes and headed back along Beddlestead Lane and then turned right into Washpond Lane, left into Ledgers Road and then right on the 269 heading towards Warlingham Green where we parted company with Andy. We reached home just before 10am.

The weather this weekend was excellent. This morning (Sunday) there were blue skies, bluer than yesterday, but now, at 2120hrs,  it's raining, heavily, just as promised, albeit around 12 hours later than scheduled.

I went out in shorts and no gloves this morning, it was that warm, and yesterday the gloves were off too, although Saturday was a wetter ride thanks to overnight rain, which had left puddles in the road. The only reason I was wearing shorts today was because the track suit bottoms were soaked through due to the puddles.

Something else worth mentioning is our old pal, known by Andy and I as 'Dawes Galaxy'. That's the name of his bike, we don't know his name, but he joined us for a brief chat yesterday (Saturday).

This morning Andy was late due to a puncture and he got another one after he left us at Warlingham Green, he informed me in a text. My bike seemed fine and I couldn't hear the knocking caused by the bottom bracket for some reason, although I'm sure it'll return again soon.

Waiting for Andy on Warlingham Green, Sunday 3rd November 2013.

We met one of the gung-ho cyclists this morning, just Phil and I as Andy was fixing his rear wheel puncture. We don't know the guy's name, but he's alright and was showing off his new Yeti mountain bike. He'd bought the frame on Ebay and then built the bike himself. Not bad at all. In fact, it put my Kona to shame. The Yeti was lightweight and had 27 gears. The gung-ho cyclist was waiting for his pal to turn up, but it looked as if he wasn't going to show so the GHC went off alone and we continued to wait for Andy who came along shortly afterwards.

All things considered it was a good ride on both days. Alright, a wet arse on Saturday for yours truly (for having no mudguards) but a dry and refreshingly blustery day this morning – perfect for riding.

Thoughts on Montreal...

It was good to be back in Montreal as I like the city, mainly because the traffic is far less intense than over here in Greater London, meaning that riding a bike is not life-threatening. Some days the roads are empty and, as you can witness from my last post, it's possible to stand in the middle of the street and take a photograph of the bike parked against the kerb.

Room 535, Hyatt Regency, Montreal – a bit corporate.

The other good thing about Montreal is the way residential houses can mingle with the urban constructions of the city centre; you don't have to ride far before you find what look like affordable places to live. Now you could say that London's like this: get off the train at Victoria and you're only a walk away from residential property bang in the centre of town, but in London, of course, it costs a small fortune and for this reason the place is populated mainly by rich foreigners. "London is full of Arabs," as Elvis Costello once warbled.  Whether Montreal is the same, I don't know, but I doubt it.

The only thing there seems to be a lot of in Montreal is tramps and, oddly, they're mostly astute, young people, sitting there on the streets with pieces of cardboard explaining their predicament to passers by.

Montreal as seen from room 535 of the Hyatt Regency hotel

The last time I was in Montreal I walked a fair way along Sherbrooke and not once did things deteriorate. This time, on the Rue Sainte Catherine, things did deteriorate at either end, with the shopping area of the city somewhere in the middle. Carry on beyond it towards Cabot Square and things get a little dreary. In the other direction there's a couple of sex shops and a few sleazy establishments mingled in with pawn shops and other lower grade retail outlets.

I was staying in the rather corporate Hyatt Regency (room 534 on the fifth floor) which afforded a pleasant enough view of the city. What was quite impressive was the Complexe Desjardins, a kind of subterranean shopping mall with plenty of food outlets and a pleasant fountain as a centrepiece. I say 'subterranean' because to reach it from the hotel I had to take a lift down from the ground floor to the 2nd floor (starting from the 6th floor, which was odd in itself because the 6th floor of the lift near the bar was effectively on the ground floor). In other words, from the ground floor there were lifts going up to the rooms and down the the shopping mall.

Street theatre in front of a Bixi bike docking station, Montreal.

It was possible to walk through the mall and into the Chinese quarter of town, which I never got to explore even if I did promise myself another ride on the Bixi bikes later on (I had a 24-hour pass, which meant I could ride a bike, dock it, do something, pick up another bike and so on until my 24-hour period elapsed. Still, you can't have everything and I was there to work.

The shops were impressive – a woman's dream, no doubt, as there was Zara, Banana Republic, all the big brands you expect to find in an international city. My favourite shop was called Roots, mainly because of a fantastic bobble hat ($38) that boasted tea cosy proportions and would be ideal for the cold weather we're expecting here in the UK any time soon. I say 'any time soon', but let's assume that the early months of 2014, which are now weeks away, will be characterised by extreme cold, icy roads and snow. These days it seems that we never escape it, although a white Christmas is never, ever on the cards.

Montreal has much more severe winters than we do in the UK, but it goes without saying that the Canadians somehow cope without having to shut everything down. As I write this, it's minus 3 degrees in Montreal and there are clear skies. Here in London it's 11 deg C and partly cloudy. In fact it's mildly blustery too, but refreshing.

I was in Montreal for five nights and six days. I flew out British Airways on Saturday 19th October and flew back the following Thursday on a night flight. Both ways the flights were good, thanks to Morrissey's Autobiography, which I've probably mentioned before. The flight to Montreal is not long – only six hours – and it goes by pretty quickly as the service is good (if you fly BA). On both flights I had an exit seat (for more leg room) and apart from about 20 minutes of turbulence coming back, the flights were smooth and I seem to have conquered my mild apprehensiveness towards flying. This, of course, is fairly natural when you consider how often I have to fly these days...but I'm not complaining.

Cycling around Montreal...again!

The start of the journey on the Rue Sainte-Catherine.

The last time I was here it was late August 2012. Now it's October 2013 and it's a little colder. I had planned to take out one of Montreal's famous Bixi Bikes yesterday (Sunday 20th October) but a mixture of that slight bite in the air and general fatigue meant I postponed it until today. Even today was kind of on a whim. I was walking down the Rue Sainte-Catherine, a street that disects Montreal from one end to the other almost, except that this time, instead of going into the main shopping drag, I went the other way where things got a little ramshackle in places: graffiti on the walls and general sleaze. As I say, I was on foot, but then I spied a row of Bixi Bikes and decided that I'd go for it.

Every time I take out a bike, be it in Germany or San Antonio, it doesn't matter, I'm still going to get problems and once again, I spent hours trying to figure out what to do, and eventually discovering that the process was quite straightforward.

The port area adjacent to Montreal's old town.

Once the bike was out, I headed further along the Rue Sainte Catherine, moving away from the shops in the centre of town and heading God knows where. The traffic was mild so there were no problems on a safety front and the bike seemed to work well, even if the brakes were almost non-existent. I reached a busy road (Avenue de Lorimier) and had to turn right and there in front of me a huge bridge. I turned right on to Boulevard René-Lévesque Est, and followed an equally busy road using a two-lane cycle track, which took me back towards the city via the cobbled streets of the old town and, indeed, the old port where I stopped and took a shot of the Bixi with a boat in the background, then I jumped back on, retraced my steps towards the old town and enjoyed the tranquility of the ride.

The cobbled streets of the old town...

The skies darkened, threatening rain, but it was holding out and I was enjoying the fresh air as I found University and followed it all the way back to the Rue Sainte-Catherine where I turned left and headed back towards the bike station from where I had released the bike. Then, having replaced it in docking station, I walked back up the street, stopping in a small café for a tea and a pastry and then heading back up the Rue Sainte-Catherine towards the hotel. I stopped off at an excellent music shop – Volume – that sold some great old CDs.

All the photos on the journey were taken on my new iphone – which I needed because my old phone was only tri-band and most of the USA and Canada requires quadband. I know, very boring, but as I spend a lot of time 'over here' I needed to sort the phone out. And also I'm a big kid who loves silly gadgets.

As I write this, it's 2329hrs at home in the UK and 1829hrs here in Montreal. It's not a bad place.

The Bixi Bike station on Rue Sainte-Catherine

The rider's point of view...

Further along the route...on the Avenue de Lorimier

Fantastic Saturday, rainy Sunday

This weekend the BBC weather people got it right: they said – or rather their map indicated – that there would be rain during the night and then, by around 7am, the rain would move north, leaving the South East clear. I remember the rain in the night. It poured down and I could hear it hitting the conservatory roof, but by 7am, while wet and grey outside, the rain had stopped. When Phil arrived we both look skywards and while there was a nagging feeling that we might get a soaking en route to the Tatsfield Bus Stop (always a safe bet destination in rainy weather because it's covered) I put my trust in the weather people and headed off to Warlingham Green where Andy was waiting (and feeling a lot better after his cold).

From left: Andy, yours truly and Phil at Tatsfield Bus Stop, Saturday.

As we headed off along the Limpsfield Road, the skies above brightened, revealing blue skies and white clouds. We turned left just after Warlingham Sainsbury's and took the slow, more scenic route to the bus stop, albeit a slighter harder route in terms of general exertion. The quiet roads are far better than the 269, which always has cars racing in both directions. With the more scenic route we can talk more, except when we reach Hesiers Hill, which needs all the concentration we can muster. Hesiers is dangerous: a steep downhill lane with a couple of nasty blind corners. Only fools would descend without a wary hand on the brakes.

Once at the bottom, like a roller coaster, the road takes an upward curve and becomes Beddlestead Lane, a long, slow climb towards Clarks Lane, but very scenic with empty fields left and right and sunshine creating a strobing effect on the eyes through the gauze created by the shrubs and bushes.

Last week mist and horses, this week a hazy sunshine.

Reaching the bus stop is always a delight, especially once the tea and cereal bars are brought out. We chatted about what we'd do if won many millions on the EuroMillions. I said I'll buy a huge house on the South Coast, one with plenty of space, and then I'd build a ghost train and have it so that the entrance and exit – you know, the swing doors the trains crash through – are on either side of a grand fireplace.

I've given up buying Lotto tickets because I don't believe in the ticket price rise from £1 to £2. It's all about greed, hence my decision to no longer bother, although I will continue with EuroMillions at work   and I might buy a Lotto ticket once a month. However, whenever I'm in a supermarket I always think, 'ah! I'll buy a Lotto ticket!' And then I remember that it's now £2 and I think of the fat cat bastard – there must be one at the top of Camelot – and then I decide not to bother.

Andy's bike on Warlingham Green

Sunday – rained all day, 

The same BBC weather forecasters who predicted Saturday's weather were equally right about Sunday's. What was annoying about Sunday was me leaving my mobile phone in the bedroom as both Andy and Phil sent out messages. Andy's was 'abort' due to rain; Phil's read, "BBC forecast is 'mist' 7am to 8am then 'heavy rain' 8am to 6pm. Just thought I'd ask what the likely consensus might be before I start the bacon sandwiches!"

Now, had my mobile phone been on the desk or anywhere downstairs I would have read this (and Andy's text) and sent back an 'abort' to Phil.

Moments later Phil sent another text, which again fell upon deaf ears; "Past the point of no return. Bacon going in now..."

I, meanwhile, had prepared the tea and was ready to go out. But now I'd checked my phone and seen Andy's 'abort' text. Phil was on the doorstep in high viz jacket and waterproofs. The rain had started, he said, and it sure had. "Let's not go, it'll be unpleasant," I said – or words to that effect – but as Phil was up and dressed (and certainly prepared for a ride) he said he would press on, so respect is due to Phil for a second ride in the rain, alone.

Before he set off, Phil gave me my bacon sandwich. I had a bit of work to do so I ate it in front of the computer screen. In fact, the only bonus in there being rain this morning was that I got my work done early and could chill for the rest of the day. I didn't do much: we had stir-fry and noodles for lunch followed by a drive to mum's for fruit cake and tea, then we bought a cake in Waitrose and the plan now is to sit and watch The Mayor of Casterbridge on television.

A strange-looking mist on Sanderstead Green last weekend.

More photos from the weekend's Sunday ride....

On the slower and more scenic route to the Tatsfield Bus Stop

Horses with a bit of barbed wire and a pheasant or two

These shots were taken on Sunday morning's ride to Tatsfield Bus Stop. We went the slow way and, in fact, it could be argued that we should always take the slow route. It's a bit of a haul, but it's safer and more of a work-out, especially riding up Beddlestead Lane, which is a gradual climb all the way to the top.

It's worth mentioning, perhaps, that the weather is beginning to close in; whereas this time last year, the cold had already arrived, if you go back to early October 2011 we had 29-degree heat. This year, the summer has been amazing. Yesterday, for example, was a beautiful day, but I'm hearing reports that the cold weather will soon be upon us, meaning that we'll need to switch our rides back to meeting on Warlingham Green at 0730hrs instead of 0700hrs. This morning it was dark at 0630hrs and let's not forget that the clocks go back at the end of this month. Soon there will be frost on the grass and on car windscreens and the very prospect of wrapping up in scarves and many layers of clothing will not be appealing. Still, it has to be done if we're going to keep on riding. Even those horses in the photograph above will be wearing their winter coats soon.