August 2021 - Upgrade time

I've been doing some research - trying to work out if my bike really is as comfortable as I can make it. 

It was billed as an entry level cyclocross bike when I bought it. 

If you have never seen cyclocross, then stop right now, do a quick search on you tube for 'women cyclocross' and wonder and those crazy people that start a bike race and end in a mud bath, with lots of peddling and running in between. 

Not being a huge lover of mud, I have not actually ever taken part in a race. I have been to a couple of training sessions though and marvelled at way others could jump off and on their bikes with ease and grace, without loosing any momentum at all. 

So why did I buy a cyclocross bike then? Well it was extra brake levers that attracted me. 

I also wanted drop handlebars as I was fed up with the sore hands that came with the one position on my flat bar bike,  but I really felt that I was just way too clumsy for the thin sleek road machines on sale at the time. 

I saw this bike - a Liv Invite and just loved everything about it - except the colour of the bar tape. 

Pink? I hate pink! Why does everyone put pink on anything designed for women? 

When I get that bike - the first thing I am going to do is change the tape to black. 

Now if you have been following my posts at all, you realise that the pink has stayed, in fact it has been totally embraced and accentuated over time. (The fact that it is also my house colour at school has helped somewhat too.)

So having never debuted in the glory of XC,  the bike has spent its time being my main ride - my commute bike and now my tourer. 

There are a couple of things that make it harder to use as a touring bike - the main being the lack of attachments to the front forks meaning that all the weight is on the back of the bike. The other issue is the handlebars are really narrow. So having watched a couple of You tube videos from another inspirational woman cyclist - Kajsa Tylen who is also vertically challenged, but has just tried a particular handlebar from Redshift called the Kitchen Sink. (Don't ask me why!) So when I found a set in a local bike shop, I decided to give them a go. They are a little wider than my current bars, they angle back towards the rider a little and sweep out making them much wider at the drops. All this should give a more stable platform that a gravel rider craves. Though I have no desire to ride gravel, I am hoping the extra control (and space) will be useful. 

So enough of the reasons why - lets get on with the job:-

First job - take the old tape off - I cant believe how mucky they look and they haven't been on a year! And, of course, photos taken to remind me which way to wind the new tape. 

It took a while to undo the hoods and the secondary brake levers, then remove the old bar. Putting them in the correct place on the new bar, I realised that I would need to put some new cables on, this again added to the job as a whole, but if its worth doing, then it's worth doing properly. So I set to and recabled my brakes. 

Then time for a test ride with my naked handlebars. 

I had bought some gel pads last year, but hadn't used them. So I set to and taped them into place. Then off for another test ride. 

When I was happy with the position of everything, I applied the new bar tape and was very pleased with the effect. 

But, of course, the proof of the pudding is in the eating and what better way to test than a Ninja training ride. Now I can't say this is wholly as a result of this change, but the resulting ride saw me hit the highest average cycle I've ever ridden. Impressed is an understatement. 

August 2021 - Bike TLC time.

I had to stop. The clunking was getting worse. 

Was there something loose? I needed to check. Grabbing my pedals, pushing then pulling them at 90 degrees to the frame gave me the answer I didn’t want to hear. 

It moved. 

Was I making it up?

Was I sure? 

I pushed then pulled the crank away from the frame once more, this time looking carefully at the bottom bracket. 

Yes there was a definite movement. Bother! 

Maybe the crank had just worked loose? 

I would have to wait till I got home to check that one. But in my heart of hearts, I knew that I was looking at replacing the bottom bracket again. But thankfully,  this time, the job didn’t fill me with quite as much fear as it had the first. 

It was too dark to do anything when I got home, instead I ordered another bottom bracket - just in case I needed one and knowing it wouldn’t go to waste. Then I patiently waited for the next sunny day to take a proper look. 

The sun came out, so did the bike stand. 

As always, I took a set of photos to remind me how it all looked before taking apart. I am not experienced enough to know what looks right and don’t ever trust my memory. 

A quick reminder from Kelvin on the invaluable Park tool You tube channel and I was off and running. 

I checked the crank. Nope, not loose. So that confirmed it. The non drive side came off really easily and with a slight tap of a mallet so did the drive side. Meanwhile my chain enjoyed a luxurious bath of well earned degreaser. 

The bearings were surrounded by a mix of grease and grime. No wonder they weren’t running smoothly. I removed them and set to cleaning the area where they once sat. 

Then time to put the new ones on. Grease first just like Kelvin said. Then fit the  non-drive side being careful not to cross thread it. 

It wouldn’t screw in. What was going on? 

I tried again. Nope. It just wasn’t going to do up without force and I knew that wasn’t right. 

I stopped. Went back to the instructions. Nope, no inspiration there. Was I going to have to admit defeat and find a bike shop? 

I checked the arrows on the new bearings. I was definitely turning it the right way. What was going on? 

I went back to Kelvin. Watched the video once more. 

Stopped it. 

Replayed. 

Checked. 

That was it! How stupid did I feel? 

I’d turned the bike round when removing the cranks. I was trying to fit the non drive bearing cup onto the chain side. 

I tried the other side. It went on like a dream. Back to the drive side (the side the chain goes on) and that slipped straight on too. I was so glad that I hadn’t resorted to brute force. 

They were on, and ready for the crankset. The upgrade looking a much smarter black. 

I wondered how far the old one had gone and how far this new one would manage. I thought I really ought to make notes, then decided that was just way too geeky. 

Everything back together, just in time for a scheduled and hopefully very smooth bike ride! 

As for taking photos - can you spot the mistake? I didn’t till

I checked. 

All sorted now. 

June 2021 - My first cycle tour (Self propelled camp) Day 2

‘Don’t judge camping on your first night away’ I was told. ‘You never sleep on your first night’ said another seasoned cycle tourer. 

Thankfully my body hadn’t listened. Whether it was the fresh air, the exercise, the soothing sound of the rain or just the comfort or the sleeping bag, I went out like a light. 

I could hear the others moving around and unzipped my tent to see what the new day held in store. It was like the world had changed seasons while we slept. 

There was no blue in the sky. In fact the clouds had decided to join us for breakfast. 

We could hardly see the end of the field and the nearby horses threw strange shapes in the skyline as they moved around. Time for a coffee. 

Battling with yet another leg cramp while sitting awkwardly on the floor, I vowed then and there that next time I would need a camp chair. I would just have to shed the pounds that the chair would bring - it’s a necessity! 

Time for breakfast and the camp dog was well aware of the campers routine. He took quite a shine to Bab’s, sitting beside her as close as he could. I’m not sure whether he was after the warmth from her blanket or a bit of her porridge, but either way, he stuck around long enough for Bab’s to get a selfie. 

We took our time packing up - everything was wet and with the low clouds still hanging around, the tents were unlikely to dry any time soon. 

I have realised that things never quite pack the same way twice. And the bike seemed so much larger and heavier today. We filled our bottles and readied ourselves to leave. All hoping back off the bikes as soon as we remembered the strange, unridable, surface of the driveway. 

We left our home for the night in search of new adventure (well a local windmill to be precise) 

After a slight detour (we took the wrong road), we arrived at Wilton windmill. Note to self - windmills are usually at the top of big hills - remember this when you agree to go sightseeing with a very heavy bike ;) It was worth the trip though. 

The sign for coffee and cream tea reminded me how hungry I was. Shame the cafe didn’t open for a few more hours. No worries though as Jo had another coffee stop in mind. 

This place was amazing, an open barn at the end of a farm track. An honesty box for any small purchases of the homemades dotted around, but best of all, a sign with a phone number to order hot drinks and fresh sandwiches. 

It instantly became lunchtime! 

The sandwiches were amazing. And Pinckney’s farm shop was quickly added to my list of favourite stops that I must revisit at some point soon.  

Fully satisfied and pleasantly warmed by our impromptu feast, we needed to make a move. We had to climb the Chiltons. We had travelled through a gap on the way there, but this time we were climbing up to the ridge - this was no easy ride  -before dropping down to Weyhill, a town with a rich history of Gypsy conventions. Though it meant more to me in a slightly more modern era as the last village we drove through before my grandparents house. (This was a very welcome signpost when you were a carsick youth) 

Bab’s neatly zoomed up the hill on her Goddess of a bike. Reaching the top with enough time to spare to grab our her camera for an embarrassing photo of me struggling up there with Jo politely riding alongside to give me moral support. She was pretending that the small wheels and heavy bags were holding her back too. But I knew she was really just keeping me company. 

Once on the ridge the 360 views were just amazing. I only wish the phones camera - or any camera for that matter - would do the scene justice. 

We carried on a while before we felt the need of another stop. It was warming up by now and the friendly pub was welcoming us to join them. 

We all ordered cold drinks and while I went to investigate the very animated game of dominoes on the nearby table, Jo and Babs tried to identify the pretty comfrey in the ditch behind us, which were singlehandedly providing a whole hive of bees with their pollen.  

 We didn’t have far to go now. We dropped down from the ridge and headed back towards Winchester. 

We said our goodbyes just before a long down as Babs didn’t turn off as soon as we did. 

I once more marvelled about the many friendships and experiences that cycling has brought me. 

My life unmistakably enriched by my favourite hobby and the friends who enjoy it alongside me. 

Thank you Jo and Babs for your friendship, great company and tremendous patience shown when answering my billion questions as we travelled. 

‘Have we put you off yet’ asked Jo. 

‘No chance - when and where is tour number 2?’

June 2021 - My first cycle tour (Self propelled camp)

I’d done the research. Watched a tonne of You Tube videos. 

Invested in kit. 

But now it was time to put it all to the test and I was nervous. 

Could I get everything on my bike?

Would I remember everything? 

Could I pitch the tent? 

What if it rained? 

So so many questions. 

Thankfully, I had a couple of friends who have ventured this way before and they were more than happy to give me advice, lend a hand and accompany me on my first trip. 

So here we are, it’s Saturday morning after a crazy week at work. I’ve taken the easy way out and driven to Jo’s house to start - that’s a couple of hills avoided, I thought. 

Jo, a seasoned pro decided that this trip would be perfect to trial using Dora, her trusty Explorer Brompton. Babs who joined us too on her fairly new gravel bike Xena and me - the one with the white knuckles grabbing my, then unnamed, bike by its pink handlebars hoping that it wouldn’t spin out of control as we were photographed. 

I was nervous. 

But, I was also excited. 

I’d been looking forward to this day since I first spoke to Jo about her kit. That was the last time I visited here. Jo has kindly reloaded her bike so I could see, not only what she took, but how it packed too. Little did I know then that I would be back just a couple of months later - bike in hand. 

We set off, leaving Kingsworthy on some relatively familiar roads and stopped to admire the view at Stoke Charity. 

The bike was handling so much better than I expected. In fact, it was only on the hills that I could notice the weight behind me. 

We discussed names for my, so far, untitled bike. Rosie? Pinky? Olivia? None were quite cutting the mustard. 

We finished our short break and returned to cycling. There was plenty of hill practice on this route - though I'm pretty sure that what I was thinking were mountains, the others weren't even considering undulations. 

It wasn’t long before we reached Whitchurch. And the entrance to The Bombay Safire Gin distillery. Though I’m not a Gin drinker, I hear there is a lovely coffee stop here. We didn’t stop on this occasion - we had other plans. 

But the glasshouses built for the aromatics looked stunning as we cycled past and reminded me that I should return another day. 

“Stop! Stop! Stopping.” came the shout from in front as we all came to an abrupt halt. Initially I thought Jo had dropped her glove, but as it started to move, I took a closer look. There in front of us was a real live mole. I’ve never seen one before and yes it looked as velvety as I would imagine, but a quarter of the size. 

It’s barely existent eyes were useless in the daylight and it’s relatively huge paws and claws were hampering it’s progress down the road. 

Knowing that it was unlikely to survive if we left it, Jo carefully guided it back up the bank - using a large leaf to protect them both. 

We left it finding its way back into the hedgerow, hoping that it wouldn’t retrace its steps back into the path of a passing car/cyclist as we continued up the hill. 

There are two great things about climbing. The first is the amazing view you often get when you reach the top. The second is the reward - a great downhill. I alway think of these as free miles. 
In this case,  the view was as stunning as the down. 

Time was marching on and I was getting hungry. But no fear, Jo had it all in hand. We turned from the main road into The Hungry Strawberry, originally a ‘pick your own’ farm, but now with the addition of shop and cafe, the perfect place for lunch. 

Once the cheese toastie was downed and the facilities used, we headed back out towards our next stop. 

We paused to mark the crossing of a boarder and again enjoyed the views of our surroundings. 

This time Dora made herself quite at home here. 

We pedalled on, not stopping now until we reached the Kennet and Avon canal. 

Bab’s and I enjoyed the view while Jo was hailed to assist a passing canalboat. 

We stood for a while chatting to the owner - an inspirational 80 year old sailing her way back towards Bristol, raising money as she went. She was planning to run cruises once she reached home - again to raise money for her chosen charity - a home for girls in Ethiopia. All the time we were watched by her trusty four legged guardian who was never more than a few feet from his charge. 

Once we finally pulled ourselves away from this fascinating lady, we continued on with our travels, loosely following the canal. Then all too quickly, we happened upon the sign to the campsite. The sign pointed toward a steep concrete covered incline. The blocks were indented, making cycling up them practically impossible. So walking the final few metres, we reached our home for the evening. 

Noting the darkening clouds, we quickly pitched our tents and got on with cooking tea. 

It never ceases to amaze me how different food always tastes when camping. I am pretty certain that this would not be a choice meal if I prepared it at home, yet here, sat on a sit mat in the middle of a field, it tasted amazing. 

Rain stopped play as we all retired to our canvas rooms. The noise of the rain drowned out most sounds, so we resorted to social media to continue our conversations. 

"Has the rain put you off Sharon? 

Don't forget day one is always the worst"

"Put me off?" "No chance! I'm hooked!"

"I might need a chair for next time though" I said as I stretched out yet another cramp in my thigh. Very glad that I had brought my tiny hot water bottle. 

We compared our tents ability to disperse water as the clouds provided the water. But that soon developed into an inkblot like test of the rain drop shapes - I am sure someone somewhere would be evaluating us on our answers to that one. 

Tucked up in my sleeping back, listening to the rain gently taping on the tent, I soon settled to sleep at the end of day 1.