First of all, thank you very much Tim G and Paul for being our sub leaders. Secondly, well done everyone who took part in a very wet ride. At least we all achieved one aim of today’s ride – a descent of Box Hill.
By late afternoon it had stopped raining but five continuous hours was enough to penetrate even the best of ‘waterproof’ clothing. Well done to the staff of the Stepping Stones for providing us with a warm welcome, even though we must have taken into their pub a considerable amount of water.
Paul J reports :
The BBC Weather forecast promised a glimpse of sunshine through a grey morning, a minor shower or two until the evening, when the rain would come. It was drizzling when I left home, a drizzle which increased in intensity all the way up to elevenses in Banstead. Only one of my group had called off and Mick got a bit wet taking a photo of us as we set off in hope.
Through Tadworth the rain became heavier. On the green in Walton an eccentric old man was finishing a huge wooden boat and gathering animals. We climbed the dip slope of Box Hill in a world the colour of Welsh slate; by the supposed viewpoint on the top we were in a very wet cloud. As we tipped over the brow and down the Zigzags the rain was coming at us in waves like the Atlantic Ocean rollers from whence it came. Luckily there was not much traffic on the hill, because after we turned tight left on the middle hairpin it was full in our faces and those of us with goggles could see little. I was probably as soaked as I have ever been on a bike when I found a safe place near Rykas to wait for the others and by the time the careful descenders had arrived I was pretty cold, too. The thought crossed my mind to abandon the planned hour or so in the Surrey countryside and just call in the Stepping Stones for an early lunch, but we don’t do that, do we?
By Pixham Lane I could no longer hear the instructions from the pretty lady who lives inside my mobile phone; the water had seeped into my waterproof carrier to muffle her. So I put her in my back pocket but could not get my sodden glove back on. By the time the second group had caught us up I decided to ride with my glove in my pocket; my bare fingers were not much colder than the rest.
We were on a determined slog as we climbed up Punchbowl and then Root Hill and then Chart Lane, intermittently intermingling with the group now in front of us. And when we did get to the Stepping Stones for lunch, Jacqui (a Saturday rider making her Wednesday debut) was shivering and clearly in a delirium, saying something about cycling was supposed to be fun. Where do folk get these preposterous notions?
Lunch was a mistake. Everything on us was sopping wet when we arrived but I had achieved a state of barely manageable discomfort which I might have maintained had we just gone on and got it all over without a break. By the end of lunch our upholstered chair seats looked as if we had each had a senior bladder accident, and Jacqui (who rang for a cab) was not the only one shivering. Strangely the third group was already enjoying a repast when we got to the pub. They avoided my observation that I had not seen them overtake but they would not have taken a short cut, would they?
All pretence of honour having been lost, I climbed Box Hill and then left the doughty Francis and Fixie to be the only survivors to complete the entire route (Nigel had baled out as we arrived at the pub).
Thanks to everyone for their company and forbearance and especially to Francis, who should get some kind of award for his patience in back-marking.
and finally Tim G reports :
Although most of us arrived at 11’s relatively dry the experience was to be short lived. My determined group of four (TG + Steph, Stephen & Mick) set out on time just as the rain set in. We dutifully followed the planned route under tarpaulin skies and driving rain. Very little of the scenic countryside could be fully appreciated as we steered our way through the dreary deluge. One may have thought that storm Malissa has suddenly crossed the Atlantic to drench our efforts.
We descended Box Hill following streams of rainwater cascading down the hillside. Undeterred we assiduously followed the prescribed route passing Paul J’s group on the way. Would we be the first group to arrive at the pub? Alas, this was not to be !
By some dubious act of fate we found, on our arrival, that the last group were already there and had been comfortably installed for quite some time. Was this a result of a serious dereliction of duty on behalf of the group leader or the result of some sneaky plot hatched by his group members? My worst suspicions were immediately aroused. They had obviously taken a substantial shortcut !
The only concession was that Paul’s group arrived just as wet and dripping as us confirming that they had followed our example in completing the route without any reprehensible shortcomings. Service at the Stepping Stones was prompt and efficient and provided a welcome opportunity to regain our strength and spirits.
A shared sense of endeavour prompted my band of four to yet again brave the elements and complete the afternoon ride. Again the rain was relentless as we ascended Box Hill and on towards our final destination by which time we were all totally soaked. We decided not to visit The Old Moat but disbanded to make our own way home.
Apparently only two noble members of our entire company took tea together at the final destination. Well done - your courageous efforts have been duly noted !
Splendid compilation of words in the write up's.
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