One Loose Nut

Ah, one of the soundtracks from Toy Story (the original) is the title of this blog entry. I know this as I get to see parts of the DVD every day, and due to TSIII coming out this week, can’t get away from that Woody for love nor money. It’s also the title of the blog entry due to the lack of cycling, the increase in beer, apathy, and so much more setting in that the blog is becoming more of a non-cycling blog than a cycling one. I’m sure normal service will resume, but with good weather this should be the time for me to hit the saddle mid-week and weekends, but alas is was not to be. So all I can do is pass on the news that I have neither gained nor lost weight (no mean feat considering).

Now, back to Stinky Pete…

A weekend of cycling, followed by Guinness, birthday cake (and three desserts) and yet Mr Salter wants to be kind to me this week. No change. I stay at 12st 8lb. Perhaps if I only had two desserts I may have lost something?

…sunglasses!!! (OK, hands up: who’s now thinking of a toothbrush?).

Another busy weekend ahead and the more frequent visitor will note the shocking delay between ride date and post date.

I start at the nearly sensible hour of 6am to head to a place that should really have been an after-work ride. But as usual there’s always something else that needs doing. As I get moving in the saddle I realise that my sunnies are somewhere other than where they should be. I contemplate returning home, but I can’t be bothered.

The TDF turned to the hills today and so did I. Ivinghoe Beacon. I skirt around the peak looking out to the Vale of Aylesbury before picking up speed downhill into Ivinghoe. It’s about 7 miles from home and hasn’t taken much time to get here, with longer spent trying to find the village sign. And as I do I am dissappointed to see that it says “Pitstone”. A village it would appear that you don’t even know where the boundary is with Ivinghoe. A u-turn takes me back to a building site that has provided camouflage for the back-to-back Ivinghoe-Pitstone signage.

Returning the way that I came in I make my way back up to the Beacon before turning right on a fast down hill toward Ivinghoe Aston. Fast until I get a face full of flies: not once but three times. Now that reminds me why I wear sunnies for cycling. I pull on the brakes hard as I come around the corner and stop at the village signs.

A second “Ivinghoe” and a thought crosses my mind: Ivinghoe is in Buckinghamshire! Another county boundary move by Information Britain. Back on the bike I make a mental note of the Swan Inn: a pub with kids swings nearby. A perfect combination.

Whilst not the most westerly of villages that I’ll visit, the short run and early start leaves me time for another: Kempston, near Bedford. And leaving from Ivinghoe Aston means that I can have a different route to get there. This time I head through the relatively flat land of Slapton and on to Leighton Buzzard before heading to Heath and Reach and the hill up to Woburn. Strangely this means that I am now on the bad road to Husborne Crawley before peeling off towards Amazon’s warehouse and the A421 which gets busy as I head through Brogborough and as I peak the top of the hill I am greeted with roadworks and a 40mph speed restriction. Handy really as I come down the hill at 37 mph. Even so, the HGVs still want to come past me on the narrowed roads and as one does I’m treated to a shower of road debris in the face (that’s the second time today I could have done with my sunnies). Saying I cursed would be an understatement, and for a while I gave chase successfully, until the gravity pulling me down the hill started to work against me and bring me down to more normal speeds.

A short while later and I am past the Bedfordshire Police HQ in Kempston and by there modern, yet somewhat sad, town sign.

I have no idea what the tree represents. It’s hardly a forest.

About turn again and I’m starting to feel all Noah’s Ark as the towns now seem to come in twos. Next stop, a short ride towards home is Kempston Hardwick. Whilst the residence may wish to differ, it really is not a village or town, but really a railway station. Nothing more and nothing less. So without a village sign, I have to opt for the Network Rail variety.

I had done a recce of this the night before to find the sign on Googlemaps and noted that there was a small patch of road where the GoogleMap states that “this image has been removed”. Ever the inquisitive I note that “Vine Cottage” is the image that has been removed and wondered what caused them to take it off the sight? Some thing rude or offensive, or someone that argued that their privacy counts?

The ride home takes me back through Ampthill (the baker’s got an unmarked van now), Toddington, and Houghton, with only a FedEx van driver that didn’t want to wait to overtake at the roundabout, opting to squeeze passed me instead. He must have saved at least 1 second off of his day by doing this. I make a note never to use Fedex again (not that I ever have so far in my life).

52.9 miles – 3 hours 23 minutes – 15.6 mph average – Map

Long overdue I can finally report a weight loss for a change. One pound down. And to what do I attribute this u-turn in bodyweight? Well probably three outings on the bike instead of one; increased effort whilst on the ride; and, a reduction in beer intake (note the use of the word “reduction” as man cannot live on bread alone).

Yes, I know. It’s not the weekend, and I have already done a ride on Saturday and Sunday. But with half of the year gone I am less than 50 percent of the way through the 114 villages and towns and need to get a move on. So with kids in bed a quick look at Googlemaps and I can see that the next stop, Husborne Crawley, is a mere 12 miles or so down the road. Trying to memorise the route I note that I am to take the third right after getting on the road to Woburn. Not familiar with the turn I switch to satellite mode to see that it is the turn into Woburn Abbey, through the estate, and through Woburn Safari Park. Now I know that my average speed is on the increase, but I don’t fancy my chances against any of the big cats, let alone those windscreen wiper eating monkeys.

I put up with the route to Hockliffe along the A5, turning right to Woburn and stumble upon the illusive good sign from Hockliffe. A fancy sign comparatively on the west of the village. Clearly in a position to woo residents leaving Woburn into a false sense of security that they’re entering a place almost as nice as Woburn. Oh how dissappointed they will be.

Up the hill to Woburn and through the High Street before turning right to follow the perimeter of the Woburn Estate and aforementioned Lion enclosure. Googlemap indicates that Husborne Crawley is at the junction with the pub and the school but I know that half a mile down the road is a church. Off the road and up towards the rectory is the second contender in one week for the longest village sign. I note that my average speed is over 16mph, and it too 46 minutes, and mused could I make it home in the same time?

Returning back I push. None of those granny gears when the hills came: just out of the saddle and grunt. It rewarded me well. I came through Dunstable on the A5 like a man possessed. Pedalling like mad, trying to time the lights, and pushing up the hill to home. Puffing, sweating, but feeling good.

25 miles – 1 hour 32 minutes – 16.3 mph average – Map

I wake early to knock out another two villages before the rest of the house wakes. Breakfast done, bottles ready, I jump on the bike only to get that strange sensation that some thing’s wrong. I look down at my back wheel in dismay: the PF’s been during the night. A vein attempt to re-inflate on the principle that it would stay inflated was unsuccessful and it’s back into the garage to replace the tube.

On inspection it would seem that this is less to do with thorns, glass, or road debris, and more that Continental’s quality process has failed as the air escapes at the foot of the valve. A quick check of the rim tape and all seems well with the wheel.

Twenty minutes later and now the pressure’s on. I need to be back by 08:30. It’s now 06:20 – it’s going to be tough. The route’s easy enough – Houghton Regis, Toddington, Flitwick, Ampthill then right into Houghton Conquest. A quick photo watched on by a small collection of locals waiting for the village store to open then back the same way.

It’s a strange village. Not one that I have passed through before, nor can I see any reason to other than if you lived there or were visiting. Looking at the sign I wonder if this will be the longest village sign in Bedfordshire?

Straight back in the saddle I have an hour to get back – but there’s more up hills than down on the return, and I can feel the wind is against me. My first hill is the climb back into Ampthill. The reward of cycling back down into the town never seems to compensate for the climb that has gone before. I rush on feeling the pain of the climb into Toddington and enjoy the 1 in 10 descent down to Bidwell before stopping at my next H – Houghton Regis.

The reputation of the area is not matched by the collection of flowers at the foot of the sign. Almost village like, yet the town merges into one with Dunstable and Luton. No time to admire the place I head for home tired and sweaty arriving back at 08:30. At least it keeps my average mile per hour stats up.

32.2 miles – 2 hours 6 minutes – 15.3 mph average – Map.