I returned to cycling around the bloody Estuary Wilds early on Sunday morning. This was my first time back rolling out on a pair of large wheels. Various household shit going off has blocked access to my bikes. Finally an end is in sight.
Have large wheel bike, will travel.
Chapeau!
We pumped up some air in the roadies and started to live out our pro-rider cycling dreams. We’ve all done that, right?
The route over towards the Suffolk side of our patch has been blocked for the past year or so. Blame the bloody Garden Village.
A quick shifty on the Essex County Council live traffic website the night before revealed that the country lane, which now crosses over a new link road to nowhere, should be open once again. What could possibly go wrong?
We reached the junction where we would normally keep on cycling down a country lane and head out towards the middle of bloody nowhere. I’m really surprised with the speed it has taken to complete the new road.
I think it was officially open although it was hard to tell with the very low level of Sunday morning traffic.
As well as appearing out of nowhere, I think the road leads to nowhere. My online snooping last night suggests there is still some more work to do and it comes to a dead stop.
I found it really hard to get my bearings. Basically the new road has been built right over the top of the small country lane that we use as our escape route. Rather helpfully there were some cycle crossings across the main road.
Logic told me that the crossing would bring me back to the other side of my lane. I reached the other side of the A road but still found it hard to get my bearings. Around a minute or so later and I was back on track.
It might have been a new road but there was the same old mattresses being dumped. I also had a bit of a run-in with a dickhead van driver who took offence to me at riding a bike on a Sunday morning. I took offence to him being a dickhead van driver.
Finally we reached freedom and some rolling country lanes. The fields looked like autumn but the weather felt like mid-June. We’re completely fucked when it comes to the climate.
A couple of hills were climbed. It felt good once again to be cleated in and dancing on my pedals. I’ve still got it Comrades, I’ve still got it.
Destination Dedham was reached. We stopped for a brief drink and then carried on around some of the other quiet lanes.
There was a sign in one straw field with a large sign saying: Don’t be a tosser. It’s all about not discarding fag ends innit.
A bit of a round circuit was reached and we crossed over the new A road and were heading back to base. Some fella sped past us in the opposite direction with a pair of time trial handlebars. Good effort.
We were back home in time for the bloody church bells to get right on my tits.
