As I've said before, I'm lucky enough
to get to travel to England about once a year. But my luck doesn't
stop there.
Thanks to my wife's ingenious
maneuverings with planning trips, we got to go a few days before the
actual business part of our business trips were to begin, which meant
we could visit friends in the county of Buckinghampshire. S.K. and
his wife are generous and wonderful people who, on this trip, not
only picked us up at the airport, but allowed us to stay with them in
the guest room of their home on the top floor.
My luck doesn't stop there, either:
S.K. is a cyclist, who's serious and laid back about the sport at the
same time. He's about ten years older than me, in better shape, and
knows exactly what he's talking about when bikes come up in
conversation. If my cousin (the Mountain Bike Jedi Master) was
fifteen years older and had a British accent, this is the cyclist he
would be.
A few days before we were due to
arrive, S.K. invited me to go with him on a Sunday morning ride
through the English countryside. Since I couldn't bring a bike with
me on this trip, he said I could borrow his commuting bike or his
wife's road bike. I was worried about keeping up with him on either:
on this long trip, my wife's suitcases and my own were already filled
to the point of bursting so I couldn't bring my bike shoes.
However, the day before the ride S.K.
and I had a revelation that changed everything: our feet our exactly
the same size, so he loaned me his extra pair of bike shoes. And that
meant I could borrow his wife's road bike.
This is a bike from a company that ends its domain names in '.co.uk' so I had never heard of it before. The
frame is light and stiff...but yada yada yada: it was a bike that I
could ride and fit on, so it made me extremely happy.
I did run into a bit of embarrassment
when testing it out: as I've said previously, most of my history is
rooted in mountain bikes, and as much as I love my Bike Friday New World Tourist, the old school shifters on the bar ends was all I knew
about shifting a road bike. I rode to the end of a street on my
borrowed Quest using the tiny levers beneath the brakes, but I didn't
know that to upshift I had to push the brake levers themselves. S.K.
had to show me how it was done, and I marveled at the simplicity.
When I said I was slowing infiltrating
road bike society, I didn't realize just how slowly
until that moment.
But with the equipment good to go, we
planned to set off early the next morning into the English
Countryside. The ride was to be about 35-40 miles – nearly double
my ordinary Sunday morning rides. I was worried about showing up at
my conference the next day sore and stiff, but that worry was
balanced out as I thought a long ride would help me deal with the
five hour time difference.
Around 3:00 in the morning U.S. time,
we started our ride with beautiful sunny weather. Not only was I
thankful for S.K.'s shoes and guidance, but following him made it
easy to remember that they drive on the other side of the road here
(I did pack my own helmet, and I carefully placed the rearview mirror
on the other side before the ride so I'd have notice before Range
Rovers would pass).
We originated our ride from a town
which had the British-sounding name of 'Chalfont St. Giles' and out
trip took us through other towns that had similarly British-sounding
names like Chivery, Amersham, Birkhampstead and Hogpits Bottom. A
number of the houses looked straight out of the Harry Potter films,
and others were just plain interesting: this one had the carving from
the front of an old ship in the front yard for decoration.
That was one of the few pictures I took
while standing still: the rest of the time I was trying to keep up
with S.K. as we headed through the countryside.
Before long, the distance between my
front tire and his rear tire opened up considerably. Since it was an
unfamiliar bike and an unfamiliar place I didn't ride as fast as I
normally do. Well, that's what I told myself anyway.
Soon after a particularly punishing
climb, we stopped at the top of a hill so S.K. could show me the
valley we were about to head to that contained P.E. Mead & Son's country store/tea shop which represented a place where we could rest
and get coffee.
After warning me about the sudden stop
at the bottom, S.K. took off like a shot down the hill, and I
followed as quickly as I dared with the spedometer passing 40 mph. I
was careful, though: If I died, my wife would never let me hear the
end of it.
But I made it down the hill safely, and
after we turned right we made an immediate left to head further into
the valley. I stopped VERY briefly to take a picture as S.K. blasted
down the next hill. See the little speck on the road in the distance?
That's him.
I clipped back in and raced down the
hill, catching up with S.K. at the next intersection. After our
descent into the valley and a total trip distance of 17 miles, we
arrived at P.E. Mead & Son's, which is affectionately known as
The Black Barn by S.K. and his friends as it is a frequent stop on
their rides – the British equivalent of Connecticut Muffin Company in New Canaan, and yet so much more since it stocks many varieties of
local products.
With the British pounds I withdrew the
day before, we got ourselves some fine coffee and delicious baked
goods before we sat at the tables outside to enjoy breakfast and keep
an eye on our unlocked bikes. We discussed various riding preferences
and strategies (S.K. likes to plan rides that head into the wind on
the outbound part of the trip and with the wind on the way back) and
whether the term 'snot rocket' was the same in the U.K. as it was in the U.S. – common topics in British-American cycling relations.
Once fueled, we headed back to Chalfont
St. Giles through Tringford and a slew of other towns with
interesting names. While the trip to The Black Barn often brought us
on two lane roads that were mostly empty (save for the occasional
person on horseback or Range Rover) this route brought on narrower
passages that again showcased the stunning landscape.
There was one big hill to climb, and
now over 30 miles in I had to give it all I had to get to the top.
Regrettably, I used the tiny chainring of my borrowed bike and
wondered again if my switch to the 53-49 chainring was a good idea.
But after cresting the hill, I got some
of my steam back and was able to ride all the way back to Chalfont
St. Giles keeping S.K. within conversation distance. By the time we
got back to his house, we had logged in 37 miles. I thanked his wife
profusely for the use of her bike, thanked S.K. profusely for the use
of his shoes and for the tour of the English Countryside – which is
worth the plane fare to Britain by itself, so when you go to Britain,
find a way to take a ride from Chalfont St. Giles (just a quick
train ride from London) in just about any direction that you like. I
just hope that when they make a trip to visit us in America one day,
I can find a bike route to take S.K. on that will rival that one.
Unfortunately for me, I couldn't stay
long after the ride. I had to go to the the nearby railway station to
head to my next destination and prepare for the business part of my
business trip. Still, I was confident that I could fit some more
biking in while in London – and I'll tell you why in the next post.
