Event - Knight Riders 'epic tale'
by Peter - Page 1
As a final addendum (to what Peter wrote further below) you can see here the report from the Mid Devon Advertiser when he went and handed over the cheque for the funds raised from the C2C cycle ride! (errm ... are we quite sure he wasn't actually purchasing one of the background items for his boat??)
Anyway, well done!
Scroll down to see the C2C report ...
...
...
...
CLICK HERE TO RETURN TO FRONT PAGE OF BLOG
CLICK HERE TO GO TO PAGE THREE
The Knight Riders - an epic tale of yesteryears.
T'was a long, long time ago (well with a combined age of over 200 years, the four of us seem to remember it thus), when four (original call to arms was seven) ex-Round Tablers from Shirley Round Table No. 494 (when over 45 years of age you form an Old farts Club called 41 Club (yes, it used to be over 40….complicated isn’t it?)….however…back to the plot…see….middle age Alzheimer's….now where was I…..)
I needed a challenge, over 55 with Type 2 Diabetes and high blood pressure, I didn’t want to use a lot of Big Pharma pills to correct the enjoyment of over 40 years eating all those pies…….
(recommend Fray Bentos….all varieties, but Pukka and Fleur de Lys highly commended, not to mention Ginsters (Pasties only), my Greek mother-in-laws creatopita and of course the now defunct Elisabeth the Chef- steak and kidney…a classic!, I also make a mean fish pie and steak and kidney from scratch …puff pastry or short crust to taste)…. I digress…..
Stage left…Mr Terry Flowers…ageing lothario, living on exploits of voyages to the Himalayas, but surprisingly active for a 70 year old, he shall be dubbed ‘Leader’ from now on…suggests Coast to Coast (C2C…geddit?) challenge, yes say I, not knowing what it was….
Well, it turns out to be a Bike ride from the Irish Sea (Whitehaven fishing harbour) to the North Sea (Sunderland or Newcastle/Tynemouth)..a peddle bike…. (I had been gearing up to buy my Harley)… journey of some 140 miles over 3-4 days (to fit Bank (spit!) Holiday…Workers Day…May 1st comrades).
Call of others…muttering from some seven….fell by wayside as training commenced with 25 mile over hill and dale…well Lowsonford (don’t knock it till you try it…if I see that Saxon church never again it will be too soon…except for that Nurse…..massage on cramp is recommended).
So it was to be that four (4) Knight Riders (other names toyed with were…. ‘Outlaws’..William; and letters such as SLK C2C, Bum challenged, etc) got under training.
Nigel Mears (advocate superior to the marriage challenged), Barry Durman (Debit/Credit ..its all money to me …eternal Tabler) and I, Peter Davies (for it is so) (Who ate all the pies? BFWB), underwent the ‘Leader’s’ training regime culminating in 40 mile all round tour of Warwickshire and West Midlands…helpful remarks from friends like ‘not many hills round here’ and mention of ‘Lake District’ and ‘Pennines’ did not inspire and encourage or bolster an already sore arse and fragile self-image.
The Day dawned, Thursday 30th April, 2009, I was at school, having been summoned to see the Headmistress (YES!!) to explain why my leave of absence was late and what for…I explained…..(rubbing my backside…sorry…I strayed into fantasy, again)…..She told me OK but with no pay…..
Up to Ambleside in Nige’s Jag (A BIKE RACK…not on MY Jag…)…(oh yes, I hadn’t told you about the saga of my new bike….well Watkinson’s old bike had been used for training but ‘I was too powerful for my Bike’ (tune of Right said Fred…’I’m too sexy’…theme toon for Knight Riders (Mk1))..snapped off the derailleur…decide to go for cycle to work scheme and buy a new bike…didn’t get it until day before we left…lot of stress ..not good at my age…) ….best decision I made.
Acknowledge Leaders forward planning by taking up bikes in his gas-guzzler (run this by me again….bikes and green living…shurley shome dissonance going on…).
Friday, 1st May 2009 – Dawn breaks (crack of….) at Brothy Cottage, Ambleside, somewhere in the Lake District.
Anyway, we are at Whitehaven harbour courtesy of support team Dave and Mary Brewin (free holiday at Brothey Cottage…Leaders bolt hole (creditors and Bryant House complainees note….)..
Nigel has a re-occurrence of the phantom puncture…new inner tube (yes he hadn’t done a thing when this occurred in training…obviously minion or secretary unavailable to assist advocate superiore, Jag owner (minor).
Oh yes, Porridge was a hot breakfast discussion topic, two will, two won’t…I will leave it at that.
Note: Harbour Café doesn't open until 11.30 am!…no bacon butties of cup of tea as advertised by Leader previously, first cracks and doubts emerging as to how good our Leaders planning really is.
But, the good news, little lady is in café to sign our C2C Passports (Barry has arranged these and you will hear a lot more about this…Barry is happy with getting his stamp first).
(musing aside….lot of unemployment with closing of coal and detergent factory in Whitehaven….action….chose tourist service outlets that are open ‘not all hours’…reverse psychology!!).
So at 11am, Friday 1st May….The Knight Riders dip their back tyres in the Irish Sea and are off on their epic journey….here we go…here we go….(new theme toon (Mk11)…Knight Riders rhyming couplets to a distorted version of ‘Robin Hood, Robin Hood riding through the Glen’).
The day had started with a brisk westerly wind and sunny periods…this was not too last…indeed as we left Whitehaven Harbour behind fine drizzle rapidly turned into driving hail as we passed through the picturesque, dog-turd infested council-house estate (sorry…affordable social housing) of downtown Whitehaven.
Gaining the cycle route proper, bleak moorland faced us and we began to realise the source of the canine excrement…high preponderance of pit-bulls, Staffordshire bull terriers and other ‘fighting dogs’ that we were passing…luckily owners were restraining said breeds and no damage was inflicted on any participants.
(aside…much money was lost by team on betting on the wrong dog as we participated in ‘local colour and customs’ as an integration thing/new horizons experience). (note: many animals were hurt in the making of this blog).
The rain closed in over Cleator Moor and we doggedly (get the link?) made our way in surly (and breathless – for me) silence towards The Lake District National Park, through Lamplugh (still looking for Estate Agents!!) and down (all sodden and cold) to Loweswater; welcome refuge sought in Kirkside/dale? Inn where we revitalled on hot soup and beef baguettes (some unwise athletes partake of the demon ale).
Reluctantly, we take our leave of the comfort and warmth of the Inn (after snaffling left chips of some females meal…maybe it was our smell that put them off their lunch…no pulling there then!!), we pushed on through hail, snow, rain, hurricane (slight aggregation for dramatic effect) to the spectacular scenery of Whinlatter Pass and Whinlatter Forest, here your correspondent had the first twinges of cramp.
Stopping briefly for Leaders purchase of batteries (don’t ask!) I availed myself of purchase of a map of the cycle route having seen Barry’s copy (jealously guarded and the source of his very verbal knowledge so far)….this was seen as insurance as I felt at any sign of weakness I might have been abandoned as ‘The weakest link’ (aside: maybe slight paranoia had set in because of the frostbite and exposure setting in…doesn’t mean the Ba..t…ds aren’t out to grt you!!).
We had an exhilarating down hill, off road descent through the deep, dark impenetrable forest…. (oh yes forgot to mention in buying my map at the Forestery commission shop, I had walked right across a film presentation on Flora and fauna of Whinlatter Forest, I muttered and pointed at one corner of the screen ‘most likely to see the rare English rugus loosus’…think I got away with it..)….twinges of cramp accompanied my break-neck descent and we wheeled out to the welcome sight of blue sky, a rainbow and some sun bang on 4.05 pm (we had been told by some Old Man of the North Seer on Cleator Moor…’aye lad, ‘appen sun be oot by 4…yah noos, wahy aye, canny lad’ (note authentic all-encompassing Northern accent…impressed?)…we, soft southern (yes, midlands is south at this point, for the geographically challenged)….of course, laughed derisorily and dismissed this as the ramblings of one who has consumed to much Newky brown and Mckewans strong ale…..beware those that dismiss the magic of the mysterious North!! …..(not to mention those psychologically traumatised and in-bred defects that go with the water this far North)….(nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!!).
Now we come to a dramatic bit…having encountered some Durham Tablers who were doing the route (half the time and well blooded and gashed from reckless speed), I succumbed to a debilitating bout of cramp where I had to hurl my bike in the hedge and lay howling spread-eagled flat in the road…my knees had knotted to iron …it was agonising …my Leader’s concern was apparent, his body language said it all, my interpretation was of care, help, concern but of course this was Terry Flower, as he rode off I heard the terse words ‘do you think you will make Keswick….see you there….byeeee …ride hard or ride home alone……’
Continuing to writhe about in agony on the road, I did muse on whether I could complete this ride and let down all my RNLI sponsors; hobbling to my feet I noticed a blue presence…not quite believing my eyes, hallucinations had been dancing around my pain-crazed brain…I heard the ethereal tones….’You all right, Pete?’ the guttural, hint of a brummy, flat, LOUD, monotone could be none other than Barry Durman….he had obviously been despatched by Terry as a second opinion as to whether abandonment or shooting was the appropriate response the leader had to decide on.
Deciding I must make Keswick at all costs I staggered on into Keswick with Barry in close guardianship with the humane killer not quite well-concealed in his sinister all-blue riding kit.
Reaching Keswick we caught up with Leader and Advocate Nigel (obviously discussing the legality of man-slaughter and possible accusations of dereliction of duty, what is a duty of care anyway?).
You know as you are about to meet death you have those moments of clarity (No?…well I did)…I looked at my new, dashing (I thought) red (very), elasthane man-kini cycling short/shirt combo and knew that the tightness of said garment (no…I am not too fat for my shorts) was causing restricted blood movement to my powerful and rather elegant legs….with a bound I was free….. (well, actually it was quite a struggle in the middle of the cycle shop to divest my self of said red garment….did cause a few customers to leave… but no reason, I felt, to summarily throw me on to the street….. where is proportionate response in that?).
Retiring to a small café in Keswick, my Leaders concern about my welfare was touching …’…think you can make another 10 miles…we are behind time…got to meet the car before dusk…..hurry up with that cocoa’
The rather nice French propriotoress of said Bistro, had been very consoling (well, that was my interpretation of the rather guttural, Lakeland/French patois she uttered over her full moustache …I find hairy females quite sexy actually…what do you think?…oh dear hallucinations from all the pain killer spray and medical rub ointment…must cut down!!).
One more bout of cramp and stops saw me being shadowed by Advocate Nigel…his stern, un-emotional, cold, dead-fish lawyers eyes roved appraisingly over my pain-wracked (but curiously classical in a Reuben’s type way) body, I could see that final epistle being written even now ‘it was the only humane thing to do…somewhere so far from civilisation’ …yes the humane killer had been handed to the consigniollari of the group and despite his stripped to the bare essentials equipment (the bike you wally!) I knew where it was…those cycling shorts of his gave it all away!…..I quickly reached for my last bits of spray pain-killer and through hasty, panicky gasps I assured my sinister, grim-reaper, grey companion ‘I would be on my bike in one nano-second…really…it was nothing’ ….he grunted…as he went for his shorts saying ‘let me help you’….I leapt on my bike (more of an ungainly crawl/grab/sprawl actually) and pelted down the hill, all of 100 meters, (two feet in imperial) to the Leader who was revving the car impatiently, on the point of leaving.
I saw the look of disappointment that ran between them, ….that I had made it……. and noticed the almost imperceptible nod to the Advocate as he came down the hill…it said it all….there is time yet….he lives this day…there are three to go……..
Now read on ...
CLICK HERE TO GO TO PAGE THREE
CLICK HERE TO RETURN TO FRONT PAGE OF BLOG
Content Copyright © 2009 - 41 Club The Association of Ex-Round Tablers' Clubs.. All rights reserved.