Rather than tackle the sticky freehub on the X myself I’ve taken it for a proper service this morning, should have it back later this afternoon. Includes the following, not bad for £80. The guy lives 6 miles away so pretty handy and he’s very well reviewed.
I don’t like to chicken out of doing it myself but I may well get him to swap the freehub off the old Boardman rear wheel onto the old Cannondale Fulcrum 5.
I still have to put the cassette from the Fulcrum 5 onto the new Campag wheel. I’ve given it a bit of a clean, it was filthy.
Bike safe snowfoam jet wash Frame inspected for wear & damage Suspension bearings inspected for wear & play Bottom bracket bearings checked Headset bearings checked Wheel bearings checked Wheels trued Brakes bled and aligned Brake pads checked for wear Drivetrain components removed, degreased & checked for wear Jockey wheels checked for wear & play Inner cables replaced Forks & shocks checked for wear and play Complete re assembly, lube & tuning All bolts and fittings torqued Silicon finish applied to frame to help prevent dirt sticking (and make it smell nice )
Quite a nice late afternoon, dry and almost warm with a light wind coming from the south. Hadn’t been down the southbound route for a while and I thought I’d do at least 36 miles, to get the October tally up to 100.
Got as far as Stoney Stanton (after 18 miles) then turned for home. After Earl Shilton though I decided I’d keep going along Leicester Road rather than turn off for Kirkby Mallory – just to give myself a navigating challenge. I have done this before and (as I’d forgotten) it’s not that pleasant during the rush hour. But I too a turn left for Desford after about a mile.
Thought I’d be able to navigate home from Desford easily enough but no, I took the wrong turn at the T junction there. I ended up taking a route through Desford that I hadn’t done for about five years but I found my way out easily enough.
Dark by the time I got home. I quite like this time of year in that you can combine daytime and nighttime cycling on the same ride after work. I came home through Hugglescote for a change, something I do rarely.
Leaned down to switch off the rear light when I got back to the garage, only to find that it was already off. In fact the rear lens and two AA batteries were absent. They must have popped off when I went over a bump. Still – it only cost about £3.
Lots of ladies out in tight jogging pants.
Listened mostly to coverage from the Conservative Party conference on 5 Live, none of it very sympathetic of course.
Back on 37.92 miles. Happy to have got 102 miles in over the first three days of the month.
Very decent weather today apart from a stiff wind coming from the west. I’m on call at the moment but it’s been very quiet, and I thought I’d risk a fondo.
I decided to go up onto the Beloved A Road south of Derby and go west. But I did make a concession to being on call by going NE through Donington to Cavendish Bridge rather than over Swarkestone Bridge, to minimise my distance from base at the point I’d need to turn back.
Got as far as Sudbury after about 35 miles, then turned back. When I got to my ’20 miles to go’ point in Hilton (a hairdresser’s called The Salon) I realised I’d have to stretch the ride a bit if I came home the usual way over Swarkestone Bridge. So I detoured via Ticknall, rather than coming down through Melbourne and Coleorton.
I did think I should probably give Bastard Hill a try, to see how I got on since I haven’t done it for a long time – but I decided to leave that to a day when I had a lighter bike with me and took a further detour through Hartshorne to give it a miss.
Nice out there, especially with a tailwind on the way back. I did get spotted with rain for 15 minutes, but it was very light. And the sun came out later on.
I listened to 6 Music early on. Radcliffe and Maconie had an interview with Lenny Kaye about psychedelic music that was really good, what an interesting guy. They played an Electric Prunes tune that was a ringer for the old Nancy Sinatra / Lee Hazelwood tune Summer Wine. Later Huey played a Megadeth tune that was clearly a ripoff of the old TPOH song I’m An Adult Now.
Later I listened to the footy on 5 Live, Liverpool vs Brighton. The south coast side got my hopes up by bagging two goals in the first eighteen minutes, but I wasn’t surprised when, just as I was arriving home, Salah had made it 3-2 to Liverpool. I must admit I was surprised to find out, later, that Brighton had equalised and nabbed a point.
Along Manchester Lane near Hartshorne, I witnessed an altercation between a hawk of some sort and a pigeon on the road in front of me. The hawk was definitely on top, figuratively and literally. Feathers were flying. It had its victim in its claws. As I drew close though the hawk retreated and the slightly distressed-looking pigeon flew off. Unless the hawk caught up with it later, I saved its life there.
Back on 64.04 miles. After a disappointing September, nice to have got the October fondo in at the first time of asking.
A dry afternoon, didn’t leave work quite as early as I’d have liked but I thought I’d get another 30 or so in. For a change I thought I’d do 15 miles or so along the route to Wales, then come back the same way – a bit of the “lower westbound” route, in other words.
That all went very well until I found myself approaching Coton in the Elms, at which point I realised I must have missed a turn. But I’d already done 12 miles at this point so I wasn’t bothered really. I just followed a road sign to Walton, and kept on keepin’ on.
The thought did occur to me that I was in entirely new territory here, on a road that I’d never done before. I got as far as a queue of traffic for the narrow bridge over the Trent at Walton, then I decided to come back rather than wait to cross the bridge. I thought that trying to find the same way back by remembering the turns might be a bit of a challenge but it wasn’t, and I realised that I hadn’t been on a new bit of road at all.
Beautiful out there in the early evening sunshine. Glorious. I should do that route more often. For some reason I only really go that way on much longer rides, usually. It just feels out of my comfort zone, out of my sense of territory to go over that way. Daft really.
Anyway – back on 32.03 miles, which brings this month’s total to 273 miles, and that’s probably it for September. My target was 350 miles, and this is the first time ever that I’ve failed to hit a monthly target.
A cruel and unusual set of circumstances combined to defeat me. A holiday to Portugal and Spain at the beginning of the month. A dose of COVID took me out for a few days. A kidney stone wrote off one weekend. I had to go to visit relatives last weekend. And finally, it’s a 30-day month. I reckon that the absence of any one of these five factors would have seen me scrape through to 350 miles, but anyway as a damage limitation exercise, I’m pretty happy to have managed 78% of the target. 4130 done this year.
It was a dismal day until 4pm or so, when the rain dried up and the sun came out. It was cold though and a moderate wind was blowing from the north.
I set off in the direction of Swarkestone Bridge, thinking of doing a bit of the Beloved A Road, then coming back through Ticknall – however after Swarkestone I decided I’d go east to Donington through Weston, Aston and Shardlow.
I wrapped up warm and it was actually quite nice out there, especially when I wasn’t pedalling into the wind. As I passed the airport it occurred to me that I very rarely see aircraft take off and land there when I’m going past. Just unlucky, perhaps.
My GPS bike computer ran out of juice after 20 miles so I had to use a GPS logger app on my phone to record the rest of the ride. I stitched the tracks together before uploading to Strava.
Properly dark by the time I got back. But of course, I’d brought lights. 33.51 miles. 241 this month.
Lovely afternoon, almost warm and mostly sunny. A light wind coming from the north. There can’t be many more days like this in the year so I took the afternoon off to do an eastbound fondo – the traditional, time-honoured route to Eastwell and back – except that I took a road called Narrow Lane on the way back; a lovely little stretch of road that I discovered on a fondo four weeks ago.
I was really enjoying myself until, eight miles from home on the way back, I noticed that my pedals didn’t seem to be engaging the back wheel. The chain was still properly attached at both ends. But the cassette was just spinning on the hub.
I stopped and examined it and the freehub was freely spinning both ways. I did manage to get it working briefly – but only very briefly; I got another half or mile or so out of it. So of course I called ‘er indoors and she came out to collect me. I walked the bike some of the way back, and even managed to roll down a couple of descents on it.
She was, I have to say, unimpressed. Naturally she wanted to know what I’d have done if it had happened in Wales or Norfolk. And it’s a fair question. I mean – statistically, proper mechanical breakdowns are very rare fortunately, but there’s no legislating against them.
Anyway the Internet tells me I may be able to fix the freehub by flushing it out with WD-40 then relubricating it. I’ll have a look next weekend maybe.
A nice afternoon, very mild, very dry, light winds. Left work as early as I could in the hope of cranking out 30-odd miles. Decided to take the Tricross, since it hadn’t had a run out since April. Despite its weight it did roll along very pleasantly.
I did a Twycrosser, with a detour to Orton from Twycross. Went right down to Witherley, but came back up mainly along the main road. Hadn’t done that for a while. Very nice out there.
Conditions grew a bit dim over the last half hour of the ride which would have been fine, except that my rear light needs new batteries, apparently. Plenty of light to see the road in front of me (and my blinky front light was working properly) but I definitely felt a little insecure about traffic coming up behind me over the last couple of miles. It was twenty minutes after sunset before I got home. Fortunately it was very quiet along Heather Lane. I think I only got passed by a moped.
Listened mostly to various analysts and commentators on LBC, giving their opinion on the prospect of a thermonuclear exchange with Russia.
Back on 33.62 and that’s a measly 153 this month, but 4010 done this year now.
September had already turned into a sort of damage limitation exercise by the time I came down with COVID a week ago, but this bank holiday weekend was at least an opportunity to clock up 100 miles or so. Wasn’t it? Nope, a suspected kidney stone kept me out of action on the Saturday and Sunday.
But I appear to be back to my normal self mostly today – whether the kidney stone has passed, just moved somewhere more comfortable or never actually existed I am yet to find out, but I decided I would attempt 25 miles or so this afternoon. The worry was that the pain would flare up again and I’d be incapacitated, an inconvenient distance from home. But a shortish Twycrosser seemed an acceptable risk.
Very light rain when I set off and it only got worse, at least for an hour. Then it stopped for an hour. Then it came back. I pressed on regardless, driven mainly by bloody-mindedness. I listened to coverage of the latter stages of the Queen’s funeral, the Windsor instalment.
It was eerily quiet out there.
Bit cold later on, even when it wasn’t raining. Not the most enjoyable ride, but glad to have got out on a bike again, for only the third time this month.
Got up at about 0945, didn’t feel like I had a lot of energy but I thought it would be best to get some exercise. I mounted the Cannondale not knowing if I’d be able to manage much more than 5 miles. Felt a bit shaky over the first 100 metres or so, and a bit zombified over the first couple of miles – almost like a lucid dream.
However I found that I wasn’t having any trouble going up hills so I took it easy, pressed on and did a shortish Twycrosser. Came back along Gibbet Lane to keep it short as a precaution but as I seemed to be doing fine I stretched the ride a bit by diverting through Burgoland and Swepstone, then Ibstock.
I did have a coughing fit like an old hag after I got off the bike, but I’m fine.
Decent weather, a mix of light wind and cloud. Just warm enough for bare legs.
Naturally I was careful to retain an appropriate distance from other persons at all times, including the bloke who was leaning against the driver’s side of his van while it was parked on Measham Road. Gave him a very wide berth.
Anyway I did 28.42 miles. 257 still to do to meet my target for September and I don’t think I’ll be able to do it. Got other commitments next weekend and it’s a 30 day month.
At last, an opportunity to get out on a bike in September. With the wind coming from the NE I decided a trip up over Swarkestone Bridge then west along the Beloved A Road was in order. What I wanted to do, at least roughly, was repeat my ride from the 3rd of August in which I’d got a fondo distance out of riding to a village called Marston Montgomery.
Very light drizzle when I set off but since the forecast was mainly dry I tolerated it, in the hope that it would go away. It didn’t though, it got worse. Persistent light rain by the time I was rolling through Coleorton. It lasted no more than half an hour though, and after that the temperature climbed a bit and I dried off fairly quickly in the warm breeze. I was too warm in the end actually. I’d opted for bare legs but had three layers on top. I took one of them off and stuffed it in my backpack, which helped.
I thought I’d be able to remember the route easily enough, but I failed to take a turn at Hatton and found myself in Foston. I had a break there, for a pasty – there’s a very comfortable bench next to a bus stop – and plotted a course back onto my intended route using Google Maps.
Since I’d added a couple of miles by unintentionally diverting to Foston, I didn’t go all the way to Marston Montgomery.
Rotter’s Rise, my regular nemesis south of Melbourne was a bit of a struggle. Whether that’s early onset of COVID, loss of fitness incurred by not riding a bike for 11 days or residual debilitation from ingesting an excess of alcohol on holiday, I don’t know.
I was waved at by a tiny tot, being held by her grandfather (I assume) at the front gate of a terraced house near Hatton. She was waving at all the passing traffic. It’s a hobby I suppose! Of course I smiled and waved back.
Back on 64.78 miles, a decent bite out of September’s modest target (350).
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