My firm intention was to do a fondo over to Eastwell and back today. Sure, it was going to be very cold. But the wind speed was forecast to be very low and it was going to be sunny all day.
Well, when I got up, I changed my mind. Looked rather frosty out there. But I set off at about 1100, thinking I’d do maybe 50k or so.
The road surface looked a bit precarious (icy in other words) over the first few hundred metres, but fine once I hit a well-travelled road. I wasn’t too concerned about the surface I was pedalling along, but it was Baltic out there. My fingers were painfully cold after a couple of km, even in my thickest gloves. I genuinely considered turning back and if I’d known the conditions were going to be as cold as that, I wouldn’t even have set off.
But I had set off. So I pressed on. And after about an hour, with the sun out and the air temperature having climbed a bit, I’d started to enjoy myself slightly. I still wasn’t going to do 100km, though. I’d set off too late for that and I had the uncomfortable thought that changing an inner tube with icy fingers would be a nightmare, if I got a puncture.
By the time I came to the junction with East Road, I’d decided I was going to turn back soon. So I took the left along there to do something a bit different. After another km or so I came to another junction with a left turn I’d never tried before. So I went along there. Quite a nice road. Well surfaced and quiet.
And I was gliding along quite happily in the sunshine when I noticed a car in the ditch, with two police officers in attendance, about 80 metres up ahead. In the same instant the bike gave way under me, and it and I both collided with the road. We both slid spectacularly along the ground for about three metres, like aggressively propelled curling stones.
Fair play to the two police officers, a young man who looked unsettlingly like Harry Maguire and a young blonde woman. They came running the second they heard the bike clatter against the tarmac and saw what had happened, but I already had a hand raised to indicate that I was OK, I think before I’d even slid to a stop. I think the sheer frictionlessness of the road surface, despite having caused the incident, had prevented an injury. Nearly all of the kinetic energy inherent from the momentum of the bike was expended on sliding along the road.
I took stock. The two coppers were creditably attentive but I assured them I was fine. The bike (my Planet X) looked alright as well. For a moment I thought I’d buggered the rear mech (again, I only replaced it last year) because the chain was hanging loose but once I’d threaded it back onto a chainring it was clear that it was working properly.
The road surface didn’t even look icy, or frosty. But it had a very thin, transparent layer of ice that was incredibly slippery. My clothes weren’t even scuffed. My bum does have a bruise but apart from that I’m unscathed. I realised when I changed into the easiest cog at the back that the bike didn’t completely get away with it – the rear pulley rattled against the spokes like a ruler dragged along a set of railings. All the other gears are fine, and it was even changing up and down nicely. But the rear hanger is slightly bent inward. Just enough to shift the indexing by exactly one place, possibly. In any case I made a mental note not to resort to the granny gear on the way home.
I think I just need to bend the hanger back into alignment. Probably the best approach is to take it right off and straighten it in a vice or something, rather than pulling on the mech. I’ll think about that when the garage is a bit warmer.
No more mishaps on the way back. I came a slightly longer way back after Belton, only because I thought the roads stood a better chance of being clear.
Back on 67.81 km. Be careful out there. 243 km this month now.