Return of The Orange Beast

Thursday ride was a bit hit and miss with Jon's bike just back from repairs and Al having to send his apologies. John H was apparently entertaining a Chinese girl... Billy Bob turned up with no bike but with clothes that had seen better days. His excuse was that he had chucked his wet clothes from his last ride, a long time ago, into a corner and had forgotten about them. His yellow mack was turning green with mould and the rest of his clothes were not much better either.

After a quick cup of tea and some puff pastry mince pies Billy-Bob mounted the Orange Beast, (Jon's ancient Halfords Apollo) while Jon rode his mended Scott. As normal, the Canal track was strewn with dodgy occurrences and people: We noticed a supicious hoodie youth clambering a wall to a house. Riding at steady pace, taking account of Billy-Bob's lack of fitness and more pertinently the heavy Orange Beast, we got to Chichester Marina where the front wheel of the Beast unfortunately fell off going over the sluice gate bridge. Jon almost did himself an injury trying to right the bike because of its weight but managed to fix the loose bolts with a huge wrench from his back pack.

At the Crown and Anchor we enjoyed a couple of pints of Tribute and then decided to cycle up to the Earl of March at East Lavant. This took us about half an hour where we tucked into crisps and pints of Harveys Best Bitter. A short trip back resulted in serving of Spaghetti Bolognese and Sticky Toffee pudding.

Sadly no photos as Jon forgot to charge his camera.

(Posted by: Jon)

Jon's New Lights

With John H on his travels in Toulouse and Billy-Bob working, it was left to Jon P and a firing-on-three-cylinders Al to keep the dream alive. After customary discussion of the woes of work, over cake and tea the boys got out for 6.30pm, cycling earnestly through the back streets of Chichester to start along the canal route. It was one of those curious evenings where the choice of apparel was not necessarily obvious - it was very mild for the time of year but there was still a nip in the air. Both riders deemed is 'shorts weather' but took the precaution of a thermal base layer and a waterproof top. Winter gloves were left at home.

Jon was particularly keen to get off the beaten track to try out his new light system, a Lumicycle Halide system "...the absolute pinnacle of lighting technology" as the blurb says! Dodging the usual walkers and vagrants, Jon quickly had to resort to bimble pace to allow Al to catch up with his failing respiratory system. Of note the boys encountered a young Hedgehog on the canal path which Al just manged to avoid. Lucky for the Hedgehog, Al stopped to warn Jon who had lagged behind at this point. After a brief picture stop and a kicking of Hedgehog out of harms way, we headed south towards Chichester Marina.


Once over the harbour gates Jonperformed a full calibration of his new kit - lighting up Salterns Copse and exposing most of the wood and surrounding area. Al agreed that the system really was better than anythign he had seen before. The lights look stylish, yet understated and, after a characteristic flicker and few seconds warming up as the beam gained intensity, the power is astonishing.. and just one lamp.. and a four hour burn time!

The view from behind the
Lumicycle Halide

Once at Dell Quay and the Crown & Anchor Al enjoyed a pint of Youngs Special and Jon a pint of St. Austell's Tribute, whereupon plans to solve the nations problems were evoked. Amongst many ideas floated was recruiting prison inmates to run the Royal Mail and waste collection. We briefly considered the "John H light-weight shortcut" route straight back home at this point because we had thought we had taken over two hours so far; according to Jons watch it was about 9 pm. However, we were not put off and decided to cycle up towards East Lavant along the old railway track. Soon Jon had to admit a school-boy error in his time keeping: He had not corrected his cycling watch after the hour change on Sunday so in fact we had loads of time!

Is it a bird? Is it a plane?
No - it's Jon with his new lights!

Two thirds of the way along the track Al always anxious to do something different and decided to try out a footpath branching off this cycle track up an embankment and found a short cut down towards the Earl Of March at East Lavant. The embankment has some potential for a embankment challenge in the future. At the pub, drinking two pints of Harveys, trhe boys indulged in some people watching as the posh folk of Sussex in their fancy attire rolled up for dinner.

After cycling back via the Lavant Ford route, we got back to a traditional slowcooker special: Chicken Casserole was served up and for pudding a Belgian Truffle Chocolate Torte with each serving worth 40% of your daily recommended intake in saturated fat. Jon had chosen the dessert especially for Billy Bob knowing his taste for healthy food but he shouldn't be dissappointed as the remainder will be frozen for future consumption.

(Posted by: Jon)

Memory Card Mishap

After a quick clean of Jon's orange Apollo bike, Billy Bob and Jon embarked on a ride down to the Chichester canals to Appledram. The orange Apollo bike had to be brought into use because of technical problems with Billy-Bob's own bike. We had had a quick cup of tea and chocolate cake beforehand, discussing the notable absence of some members on weekly rides (and Jon's experience with a friendly belly dancing solicitor at work). Keeping the dream alive for the TCA was falling on our broad shoulders.

The usual quick cycle through Chichester was mounted to beat the level crossing which we duly accomplished. Once on the cycle path, we quickly encountered courting couples and dog walkers, some very grumpy, and that was the owners. We lost count how many we met but Al would not have enjoyed this part of the ride. The evening was glorious though with the sun out and when we got to the Marina at Dell Quay the setting sun over Fishbourne channel was super.

We arrived at the pub, the Anchor, in good time, sat outside and enjoyed two pints of Waggledance. You cannot beat the British summer when it is like this. At 8pm we decided that we had to go upto East Lavant along disused railway line along the eastern side of Chichester. We had on a previous ride with Wrong John gone straight back home at this point! However aware of some murmurings that our rides had gone soft and that our bikes are not showing signs of dirt and mud we pushed on hard.

In fact we took just half an hour to get to at the Earl of March at East Lavant. A distance of just over 8.5 km not bad when billy bob was cycling the tank, the orange Apollo. At the earl of March we enjoyed a pint each of Harvey's Best Bitter looking over the Downs and the Trundle.

Again we cycled back fast from East Lavant home in just under twenty minutes arriving at 21:20 for another slow cooker Parson's special, Coq au Vin. It was around this time that Jon realised he had neglected to put the memory card into his camera; all the carefully staged snaps had been in vain.

(Posted by: Jon)

Canal Basin Convalescence

Still not fully recovered from last week's ride-halting illnesses Jon and Al decided to struggle on but attempt an easier ride than usual - cycling the familiar route south of Chichester along the canal tow paths, through the marina, under the A27 and upto East Lavant by disused railway.

While Jon and Al had clearly defined priorities - getting out in the time honoured way dispite extenuating circumstances - John had apparently disregarded the ancient TCA ethos: He was going out with 'other friends' on a christmas social. Billy-Bob on the other hand reported that his family were still making a recovery from flu and various other ailments including headaches, vomiting, etc.

Starting at 7 we "roaded" it to the Canal basin after being held up at a level crossing for what seemed an age. Once on the Canal path we seemed to be on our own apart from a courting couple and a dog walker surprised from our full sets of cycle lights. Al had the ultimate suprise though as the dag gave chase once the owner felt we were at a safe range. There was an errie feeling to the night with mist coming off the canal and various birds - coots, mallards and mute swans - calling. Jon rode to the front having recovered from his cold better than Al. Once at the Marina, the riders both successfully negotiated the sluice gate across the estuary entrance to marina without stopping and then rode through Saltern Copse up to Dell Quay Road.

At the Crab and Lobster at Dell Quay, we both quenched out thirst by drinking a pint of Youngs Winter Brew which reminded Jon of his golden years in drinking at various establishments in Old Portsmouth pre-TCA. After a serious discussion about whether to have another one, we decided, needs must and all that, to ride on to East Lavant.

A Toast to Absent Friends,
The Crown & Anchor

Cycling along a disused railway track, we both got up a bit of a momentum up, just missing a few dog walkers and then up to the Earl Of March. The pub was packed with christmas revellers, alien compared to tho the usual quieter atmosphere we were accusomed to... no doubt this was the just the type of atmosphere that John had traded for a night with the TCA. Nevertheless another enjoyeable pint of Harveys this time along crisps were consumed.

Homeward bound we cycled though a recreational park near the Festival car park and then the carpark itself, startlng a group of school children (not an unusual occurrence for Jon, Ed.) on a trip to the theater. Back at Jons, were more beer was enjoyed, a cracking chilli and huge servings of chocolate profiteroles with lashings of cream was consumed whilewatching Desperate Housewifes.

(Posted by: Jon)

Canal Dreams

Jon was surprised to see John, who had parked up his camper van in the drive, and Al, having readied both his own bike and his spare road bike for Billy-Bob, idling away the time as he pulled into his street at 5.30pm. Impressive stuff - he had expected a late start – Matt’s arrival soon after signaled the time for kettle boiling, tea making, and opening packets of buns. Small talk was made as we waited for Billy-Bob. The final associate bowled in just before 18.00, resplendent in suit and shiny, pointy shoes – standard attire for those on the ‘dark side’ – having recently accepted a position at a private planning consultancy: A far cry from the scruffy days in local government. It was good to see though that his old eating habits had not deserted him as he attempted to scoff the last two remaining buns. No chance! Thanks to a quick intervention from Jon he only managed to snaffle one.

After our last foray south of the A27 around Chichester resulted in a wholly unsatisfactory ride we had vowed never to attempt the same thing again. However, Jon was keen to devise a new route and the flatlands around the marina would provide the easy, sociable ride he was looking for to ease Billy-Bob into the new routine and also tempt Matt out. Buns and tea out of the way the boys set to gearing up, and all-but-one were soon ready. Jon seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time faffing around, apparently getting the meal on, feeding the cats, sorting out lights and the 101 things that seemed critical at the time.

Eventually we set off through the streets of south Chichester aiming to pick up the canal path leading to the marina. Jon led the way as we encountered a dodgy-looking character hanging around under the arches who was clearly not expecting a convoy of TCA riders. The towpath ends abruptly at Hunston where the party turned left along the road following the signposted cycle path. Not absolutely sure we were on the correct bearing rallying cries of "this looks right!" spurred us all on. Alas, having reached a dead end and our local guide Jon having consulted a map, it was concluded that we should have turned a sharp right angle. We turned our bikes round in a frankly embarrassing fashion, with Jon receiving the brunt of the ensuing abuse . He proffered feeble excuses such as “It all looked so different in the daylight when I last did this route”. Eventually, after another couple of about turns, and at one stage only narrowly avoiding going directly back the way we came, Jon found the route.

Burning up the canal towpath

Finally we were speeding along the canal again in the direction of Selsey, eventually entering Chichester Marina. Crossing over the mouth of the marina we picked up a bridleway along Fishbourne Creek. Al whizzed off in the lead while the majority of the group sauntered along at WI pace, catching up with Billy-Bob’s antics over the last couple of weeks. Al (in his capacity as official photographer) took the opportunity to speed ahead and take some action shots. Eventually cries of "get a move on!" were definitely heard from the leading rider whose patience was obviously waning. Picking up Dell Quay Road we turned left towards Dell Quay and arrived at the Crown & Anchor.

Checking out the Marina

John was keen to buy the round but had neglected to bring enough money to cover the order. With Billy-Bob skint, and Matt and Al reluctant to break into high denomination notes to settle the few pence outstanding, he scrounged some money off Jon (thus breaking an unwritten TCA rule by allowing the host to pay for beer) to settle the tab. Jon wondered, as he studies the map yet again, whether this was the moral bankruptcy of the dark side rearing it’s ugly head... However, the matter was soon forgotten as we duly drank our pints of Charles Wells Bombadier (Jon/John), Young’s Special (Al/Billy-Bob) and, without any sense of shame, pissy lager (Matt). Billy-Bob remarked that we seemed to be going to posher pubs these days... Jon wondered if our prodigal rider just had better glasses these days.

Toast to Absent Friends The Hope & Anchor
(Left to Right: Al, Billy-Bob; John, Matt, Jon)

The next stage of the plan was to get up to Fishbourne avoiding the A27. Unfortunately Jon was bamboozled for a second time that evening by an underpass which he claimed was not shown on the map. Changing the route plan on the fly he missed the turning onto Centurion Way (a cycle path leading up to East Lavant) on the first attempt. Matt, who was brining up the rear, was screaming to the others that we should turn left by the entrance of the school - frankly Matt tends to get over-excited at the thought of young girls in uniform and we have become accustomed to ignoring his outbursts every time the route passes close to a school. On this occasion Matt had however correctly identified the path we were aiming for; we were soon on our way down the tarmacked cycleway which Billy-Bob found was much better atuned to current fitness levels. In fact Al and Billy-Bob lagged behind wittering about weaning, nappies and baby apparel… or whatever. Arriving at East Lavant we got back onto the A286 for a short stretch to the familiar Earl of March.

Lounge Lizards, The Earl of March

Matt, loaded with beer money, was straight to the bar for a round consisting of Ringwood Best Bitter and more miserable lager for himself. We managed to bag a cozy corner and some comfy chairs - perhaps Billy-Bob had a point about the pubs after all! With time pressing, and some of our more grumpy associates expressing their dislike of the normal bridleway route around Goodwood Motor Circuit, we took a minor road and bridleway alongside a stream before heading home through the northern outskirts of Chichester. Al had a close call with a ford which appeared suddenly and was more raging torrent than shallow crossing. Jon insisted that he had issued adequate warning, but some people will never listen.

Dinner was the TCA staple of chilli, expertly slow-cooked to perfection as ever.

Route Map (click to enlarge):

(Posted by: Jon)

Last Ride of Freedom

According to the finest traditions of the land a motley TCA crew assembled to provide long-time associate, Ad with a send off ahead of his wedding in March to fellow associate Julie. Chichester was chosen as the venue for this auspicious occasion on account of the dossing space afforded by Jon's house. The route was debated as the riders trickled in and put together the familiar kit; With an air of resignation Ad did up the fastenings on his helmet for the last time as a free man and by 19:00 we hit the road bound for the route which proved such a festive treat on last year's Christmas ride. The conditions could not have been kinder - although cold (the temperature would drop below freezing before the night was out) it was a clear, still evening. We retraced our festive tracks through the city centre and on towards the cycle path leading north.

There was a curious atmosphere in the Earl of March, our first stop after some half an hour. A Friday night ride is a highly irregular occurence for the TCA; we are used to deserted pubs, maybe with the odd loner propping up the bar but the Earl was liberally sprinkled with diners, couples out for a drink and groups of friends. We felt decidedly out of place as we attracted strange looks from the other clientèle. Choosing a discrete table for five we ordered our pints of Ringwood Best - I daresay we should have shared laddish jokes and discussed the worthiness of the various barmaids according to the true spirit of the evening but it had been some time since we'd seen each other and we took the first stop to catch up with each other's news.

Our first pints dispatched we headed through Lavant towards the familiar ascent of the trundle. Only a few hundred yards into the climb John, who was bringing up the rear shouted 'stop!' and we all congregated around the stricken bike as last week's form continued - yet another puncture for the new Bontrager Mud X tyres. With much cursing of his new 'tweak' John worked steadily with help from Ad to replace yet another inner tube, the other riders illuminated the scene (all except Al that is, who took the opportunity to try out his new camera).

Bontrager Mud Wrestling:
Jon repairs his puncture

Having fixed John's problem the group were off again led by Al: Soon an unassailable lead opened up and Al, experiencing some respiratory difficulties it has to be said, pronounced himself 'King of the Trundle' for the first time in many-a-week! Ad and Charlie arrived next, closely followed by John (Delhi Belly) and Jon (hampered by some mystery complaint that had rendered him uncharacteristically sluggish). Having re-grouped Al got his excuses in early to Ad as he seemed to have lost the ability to engage the highest gears on his front chain ring - there would be no repeat of the famous Christmas race to the Partridge. Predictably the Stag shot off at warp speed down the crazy gradient leading towards West Dean leaving the others in his wake.

Cue more strangle looks from the regular punters as we marched in to our next pub in all our various apparel. Fuggle-Dee-Dum from Goddards Brewery on the Isle of Wight was the beer of choice in the Partridge. Initially there was a collective sense that there might be something strange in the beer as we all started to feel a little light headed. However our control, Charlie who was on lemonade, also felt a bit strange. We put it down to the 40mph descent in temperatures close to zero and continued drinking.

The distance between the Partridge and the Fox Goes Free is dangerously only a matter of a few hundred yard, such is the quality of this route for a good session on the beer. With the couple of ales inside us on an empty stomach the usual tom-foolery began - jostling and running each other off the road... until Charlie (the only rider unfamiliar with the area) shot off on a solo effort in the traditional sprint-style race to the pub - Ad had to chase him down as he screamed past the Fox at full speed! Having retrieved Charlie from West Sussex somewhere we stopped outside the pub to get our breath back and capture the obligatory group photo.

Like the previous hostelries the Fox was packed to the rafters; it was standing room only while we enjoyed our pints of - Ad's favorite - Ballards Best. Approximately 3/4 of the way down our Beers John commented that his pint smelled of cheese. There was some debate as to who had the pint that most smelled of cheese, and which particular variety of cheese it smelled of. The final conclusion though was that the beer was fine and that rather we had undergone some sort of sensory displacement on account of the cold.

The Stag Party:
(Left to Right: Charlie; Ad; Jon; Ali G; Al)

Leaving the warmth of the Fox we braced ourselves for the slog back up the hill towards the Goodwood racing complex. As we left the car park we had a brief exchange with a couple of smokers who apparently could not believe we had chosen to use our well earned leisure time in this matter - half way up the hill in the freezing wind we were also questioning the wisdom of our decision; wouldn't it just have been easier to hole-up in Jon's local for the evening? In any event Ad narrowly beat Al on this particular King of the Mountains section and the others soon caught up for the long sweeping down-hill back towards Lavant. There were reports of a near-miss with a white van for Jon on the way down, and Ad and Al had an encounter with some Vauxhall Nova driving chavs at the bottom of the hill, but we remained largely unscathed. We were soon propping up the bar in the Royal Oak.

With some stroke of genius Jon had thought to pack the menu from his local curry house in his hydration pack - knowing that we were only a 20-minute ride from home Al phoned through the unfeasibly large order at about 22:00, requesting delivery at 23:00. This should give us enough time to take a leisurely ride home, grab a shower, crack open a bottle of beer, select some dirge on the telly befitting the occasion and wait for the doorbell signaling the arrival of our gastronomic delights... well that was the plan anyway.

Fueled by 4 pints of lemonade Charlie suggested a mandatory imposition that everyone should leave the pub on their bikes via the short set of steep steps leading from the patio area. Some rides were less nervous/more drunk than others and launched themselves at the steps while others were more tentative. Finally however all were assembled, unscathed at the bottom of the steps and headed home at full steam.

Charlie (above) and Jon (below)
tackle the
'Royal Oak Steps of Death Challenge'

It was not clear which rider towards the front of the peleton took the fateful decision to part from the prescribed route and use the Goodwood perimeter track rather than the road route past the Rolls Royce factory. However, three-quarters of the way down the track Ad pulled up with our second puncture of the evening, with curry delivery imminent! Jon and Al continued alone while the others helped Ad patch up his bike. The advance party arrived just in time to greet the driver and by the time the others had caught up, plates, cutlery and beers were readied, and most of the various dishes identified. A perfect end to a splendid evening.

All that remains to be said is good luck to Ad and Ju for the forthcoming nuptials from all at the TCA - may you have a long and happy future together, and many a filthy ride!

Route Map (click to enlarge):

Elevation Profile:

(Posted by: Al)

Christmas Ride 2007

Chichester was chosen as the venue for this year's ride - Jon, in his capacity as host, presented riders with generous slices of Yule log with their tea on arrival . There was some debate as to the festive route - Jon had two alternatives in mind and argued that we should tackle a longer, semi-off-road route with one or two stops, while Matt and Al preferred a less challenging, pub-strewn excursion. Eventually a trip up and over the Trundle with a liberal sprinkling of drinking holes was settled as Al, John, Matt, Ad and finally Jerry (resplendent with shiny new full-susser) kitted up in the drive. Spirits were high for this highly-anticipated annual event; Ad in particular was beside himself with excitement!

We set off through the city centre and, with lane selection not a skill usually required by the TCA, soon realised that the drivers of Chichester were not yet ready to extend good tidings of great joy to the riders seemingly weaving randomly through their streets. Back on more familiar territory we eventually headed north out of the city on the cycle path familiar to participants of the Chichester Challenge. Jon led the way, taking his guiding duties seriously on this auspicious occasion, and safely found the Earl of March before too long.

A festive toast at the Earl of March
(left to right: Matt, Al, Jon, Ad, John, Jerry)

Hearty toasts were drunk to the TCA and to absent friends, celebrating another year in the saddle. The pints of London Pride however were soon drunk; time to put back on thermal layers and waterproofs, and head out into the night once more. We were bound for the Trundle, the only really challenging part of the ride we had in mind. The pace was more sedate than usual as the friends caught up with each other's news but soon all were assembled at the top ready for the descent by road to Singleton. Ad and Al led the way on this exhilarating drop - clocking 44.8mph before reaching the Partridge Inn.

While the other riders were sure that the TCA had never visited this establishment before Al realised that this was where he and Billy-Bob had broken their epic south-downs over-night hike (to eat what felt like their own body weight in Sunday dinner) in the pre-blog days. We trooped into the bar to the bemusement of the diners and pitched our spot near the obligatory Christmas tree.

Another toast to absent friends,
Partridge Inn, Singleton

With beers once more consumed we set off by road to Charlton and the Fox Goes Free, a more regular TCA stop. By now, with two pints inside them on an empty stomach and pulses raised by the descent to singleton, Ad and Al were engaged in a jousting match, finally culminating in a race to the pub which in true seasonal fashion was declared a draw. The Fox's garden was resplendent with an enormous Christmas tree beneath which bike were parked (below).

MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM THE TCA
...see you for a ride in 2008

We left the pub dreading the next section of the ride - the long, steep ascent (albeit by road) back up towards the Goodwood racing circuit at the top of the downs. Eventually we reached the top of our climb and realised we had some dissent in the ranks - some favoured a trip back down the trundle - a departure from our planned descent by road to TCA favourite, the Royal Oak - while the majority of the party felt it unwise to tackle this the wrong side of three pints. Jerry (who was only the wrong side of two pints and keen to give his new bike a good thrashing) and Ad (who was still delirious with excitement) threw caution to the wind and headed cross-country for Chalk Pit Lane (indicated by the dotted line on the route map).

The four road-based riders sped towards the Royal Oak and were strangely satisfied to see the lights of the other two in the break-away party on the hill far above them. John, Jon, Matt and Al reached the pub (below) first but were rather put-out by the lack of festive ambiance (not even a Christmas tree!). The beer however was rather good and they soon forgot about this minor detail.

Merry Christmas without the decs. at the Royal Oak

Departing the Royal Oak we were taken by surprise as we rode directly towards a magnificent firework display, which the party assumed was something to do with the nearby Rolls Royce factory. This was the icing on the cake of a magnificent ride and spirits were high for the short trip back to Jon's place, Ad insisting that we really should think about singing a carol or two.

Jon had a real treat in store at home - he had cooked Fricasse of Turkey (and all the trimmings!) served on a bed of noodles for the occasion. He had also laid on winter ale as an accompaniment and mince pies with brandy butter for pudding - terrific!

Have yourself a Merry TCA Christmas with
Jon's Festive Turkey Fricasse

With all the food gone Jerry headed for home as Al cracked open the after-dinner whiskey (laid on by a Founding Father as dictated by ancient custom and practice). Thanks as ever to Jon, who allowed everyone to stay overnight, for his excellent hospitality. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to one and all!

Route Map (click to enlarge):

Elevation Profile:

(Posted By: Al)

Bad Lights Stop Play

We had decided in advance to try and make an early start in order that we might tackle the 'long Chichester route' beyond Goodwood, onto Hooksway via the South Downs Way and then over Kingley Vale. It is a tough route in Winter and at the limits of burn time for our off-road lights. However, the omens were good, everyone was organised and prepared and the rain which was forecast had not materialised: Equipped with a new set of neoprene gloves (which were more akin to diving apparel that something one might wear on a push bike), waterproof socks and his new cleated shoes Jon was ready for any eventuality; Al had arrived earlier in afternoon with bike fully rigged up in advance; John turned up a while later but fully prepared, as usual, and desperate for his customary cup of tea and cake after another grueling round of business travel. Jon got some instruction from the others before the off regarding the use of his new Crank Brothers clipless pedals as final adjustments were made. Jon was assured that tales of riders not being able to extract shoes from pedals and falling into flower beds had been exaggerated.

Jon slowly learnt the technique for getting his cleats to bind with his pedals on the rutted track around the Goodward motoring circuit. By the time he reached Claypit Lane Jon's shoes were finally engaged - Jon duly hared up the hill in his usual fashion, closely followed by Al. The trio began to appreciate that the heavy rain combined with the wet flint, chalk and clay lent themselves to slippery, greasy conditions. Having firmly engaged his shoes by now, but not having yet learnt the knack of extracting them, a minor skid halfway up to the Trundle caused him to stumble into a ditch. Seconds later Al, a stalwart advocate of clipless pedals who had no similar excuse, also hit a wet patch and ended up in a tangled heap in the mud. These minor 'offs' saw John's steady tortoisesque pace get him to the top first without incident.

The rain reached torrential levels as we made the descent to West Dean - visibilty was poor and bikes were difficult to control in these conditions. Having crossed the A285 road at the usual spot we made the short road section which leads to the bridleway at West Dean Woods. The spray stung our eyes as we made the final fast descent and we were thankful of the cover provided by the woods as the rain continued to strengthen. These were possibly the wettest conditions that we had ever experienced, relished of course by the TCA. We climbed steadily through the woods on sodden, often overgrown, tracks towards the South Downs Way.

Once on the ridge we were buffeted by a strong wind and the now horizontal rain: Cold and wet we briefly considered returning the the way came. However, with the prospect of having to watch an inevitably dismal display as England played Croatia if we arrived home early, we pressed on over Cocking Down and finally made the cover of Linchball Wood. Down-hill towards Hooksway through "bone shaker alley" the ruts on the track had become rivers and proved a particular challenge. However, John and Al were treated to the sight of a magnificent stag stood in the path as they approached. Taking a breather at the end of the descent, having safely negotiated the treacherous conditions, Jon promptly fell sidewards onto the road in front of the Royal Oak with a crash, yet to master the art of clipless pedals.

Inevitably the Royal Oak was closed and we could no longer delay the section we had been dreading - Phillis Wood Lane. At the best of times the wide tractor wheel ruts are filled with cold deep water. The difficult skill is to cycle along the sides of the track without sliding into the mire. Thankfully it was not as bad as feared but by the end of the ordeal it was apparent that the beating rain had taken its toll: Johns lights suddenly gave up, plunging him into darkness. Collectively we decided to curtail the ride and cycle straight home by road without tackling Kingley Vale.

Jon tackles Phillis Wood Lane under 'Dry' conditions

in the summer

Given that the only part of us all that remained dry was Jon's hands, protected (although sweating heavily) from the conditions by his thick neoprene gloves, the decision to abandon the ride was welcomed by all. We cycled back through the lashing rain in a convoy towards Mid Lavant, and the rather up-market Earl of March, avoiding the sides of road where possible which were torrents of surface water. The irony was not lost on the riders as three pints of Hop Back's Summer Lightning were ordered.

A soggy toast to absent friends, Earl of March

We were soon shivering from the effects of standing in the bar in soaking clothes, despite the roaring fire. We finished our beers and left the pub without leaving any trace of our visit except empty glasses, muddy footprints and a rather large puddle of water on the immaculate parquet flooring. We cycled quickly to Jon's house; by now the rain had also got to Al and Jon's rear lights sticking them in 'constant' mode. 21.7 wet miles later we dried out in front of the football (the inevitable dismal performance ensued) sitting down to yet another new number from the Farndell Close cook book; Caribbean Chicken with wholewheat noddles [Eat your heart out Rusty Lee! Ed.] washed down with Wychwood's Pump King ale, all of which served as at least a minor distraction from the football.

Route Map (click to enlarge):
Elevation Profile:

(Posted by: Jon)

Footnote: After consulting with Lumicycle, and having conducted an appropriate post-ride test, John subsequently discovered, rather than a fault with his lights, that he had depleted the battery by running the 20w 'flood' lamp for the duration of the ride rather than the 12w 'spot' light. While this resulted in the significantly reduced burn-time on the ride in question the manufacturers assert that the lights are specifically designed to stop working suddenly in this event (rather than the fading away characteristic of other brands) to protect rechargeable battery life in the long-term.

The Missing Link

It has been some time since an evening out with the TCA has been blighted by technical problems and descended into farce. After years of experience we have all by now procured the relevant tools and equipment to sort out most common problems on the hoof. Tonight we yet again found that only a thin line divides success and, more common in the case of the TCA, failure.

The evening started well: John and Al arrived in good time at Jon’s who, with a week off work to peruse the map, had devised that most exciting of prospects – a new route! We planned an assault on the Trundle again but bearing west instead of east to take in the hills above Chichester. The glorious weather continued with a mild, sunny evening – perfect conditions; it felt like we hadn’t had rain for weeks.

Ready in record time we headed out of the city on the familiar route towards Goodwood motor racing circuit’s perimeter track. Jon however had problems engaging the correct gear on his rear cassette, the chain slipping with every revolution. Jon pulled up for a diagnosis and we spotted that one of the links had twisted. ‘No problem’ we thought, whip that bad-boy out and replace the dodgy link using the spare connecting links we routinely carry (above, left); something we’ve done plenty of times.

John brandished his spanking brand new-fangled multi-tool like a weapon but we could not figure out how to use the chain tool. Al deferred to the old technology and using the more basic version had the offending link out in record time. Like a well-oiled formula one team Jon was already standing by with the connecting link… so far so good… but no matter how much brute force Jon applied to the pins on the connecting link they just would not fit through the two ‘eyes’ in the opposing ends of the chain. The conclusion was obvious - for some reason we had the wrong sized link, didn’t we? It was these links we used on Ad’s bike when he snapped a chain on the Quantocks, wasn't it? Was Jon’s chain the culprit? The only thing for it was a mercy-dash to Halfords about a mile away. Al drew the short straw and remounted with the twisted link, the spare connecting pin and ten quid.

The grease monkies at Halfords spotted the problem immediately – we had a connecting link for a 5/6 speed chain; we needed a link for a 9 speed chain. With the new links in hand and down only £2.99 Al sped back, humming the theme from Damnbusters, to his stranded compatriots. Somewhat belatedly John exclaimed that he had now figured out how his new-fangled chain tool worked, as Al ripped open the new packed of connecting links, and Jon aligned the pins and… these ones didn’t fit either! We were flummoxed: The only thing for it was for John and Al to continue alone while Jon walked his bike to Halfords for closer inspection. The remaining two decided to curtail the original route and do the familiar run to the Fox Goes Free.

John had his first taste of the punishing haul up Clay Pit Lane towards the trundle and his first taste of the routine humiliation which often seems to go hand-in-hand with being a member of the TCA, as we were easily overtaken by a overweight casual cyclist on a cheap mountain bike wearing shell-suit bottoms, seemingly putting very little effort into climbing the hill. Eventually we reached the top where we had decided we would call Jon to catch up on his progress. Al noticed he had missed a call and on dialing his voicemail number had a message from Jon “My chain’s fixed! I have set off around the route in reverse so I’ll meet you halfway round somewhere”. Great! We were back in business. It then occurred to John and Al to wonder whether Jon had heard their discussion about the revised route: Was he on the original plan to the west, or behind us climbing the trundle? Al called back but got no answer so the Trundle pair metaphorically tossed a coin and decided that Jon was on the original route. Fortunately, just as they were about to proceed Jon called back to explain his was on the Goodwood perimeter track (new route) and it was then decided to meet at the Selsey Arms, West Dean (Su857 124): Jon would circumvent the Trundle, Al and John would descend to the west.

Al (Harvey’s Sussex Bitter) and John (Guinness) enjoyed a leisurely pint while they waited. Jon arrived, sweating profusely after his gate-strewn thrash up the valley, and nearly downed his pint of bitter in one. The map was studied again and the decision taken to return directly to Lavant. Meanwhile John explained the mystery: The twisted link which we had removed was on an ‘inner plate’ link (see diagram below) leaving two ‘outer plate’ eyes to join. However, the spare connecting links are designed to join ‘inner plate’ eyes (incidentally it is usually the ‘outer plates’ which break when one suffers a broken chain). Simply by removing another link the grease monkeys had managed to expose two ‘inner plates’ to join using the 9-speed connecting link.

The weakest Link

Jon suggested a change from our usual stop, The Royal Oak, and after some head scratching eventually found the alternative Earl of March (SU857 082) which benefits from a nice (patio heater-free) garden which seemed quite popular with other bikers. More Sussex Bitter, more Guinness under a gibbous moon on a star-lit night, a laugh over our misfortune, a game of ‘name the blog posting’, and all was well… until we realised that Jon’s rear tyre had gone down.

A toast to absent friends, The Earl of March

Rather than patch the inner-tube up we decided to pump the tyre up as it was, but the pump Jon inherited from Billy-Bob wasn’t really up to the task as Jon and Al took turns to inflate the tyre: Queue much merriment and double-entendres from John. As usual Billy-Bob had cut some corners and bought a cheap and nasty pump but the situation was ameliorated by Al’s luxury Topeak ‘Master Blaster Pocket Rocket’ (admittedly bought primarily because of the name).

Jon attends to his ailing bike

Jon limped home on his semi-inflated tyre and cooked a magnificent spaghetti bolognese for the boys. Left with an average speed for the ride not much higher than walking pace (left), not for the first time the TCA was left reflecting on it’s incompetence.

Route Map (click to enlarge):

Elevation Profile:

Speed Profile:

(Posted by: Al)