The Steady ride left the Square with nine riders. Confusion was caused by the ride leader completely forgetting his planned route, leaving those who had loaded it to their bike computers rather bemused. Loyally they followed, to be joined by Tesh who was undeterred by the unannounced diversion and found us anyway. A long pull up Horsepools Hill’s gentle grades had very light traffic, at least if you were toward the front of the group. At the back, though, a queue of vehicles awaited their opportunity to pass. We pulled over at Sevenleaze Lane to give them that chance. Two riders also took their chance to make their own way from here.
Back Lane was next, and those who know the area girded their loins in preparation for the approach to Painswick. Here we stopped to admire the art gallery “The Loovre”. Unlike its French namesake it has not been burgled recently, but in its previous role as a gentleman’s toilet it would only have taken a penny to gain admission! Through the picturesque village, the crossing of the eponymous stream at Brookhouse Mill marked another opportunity to grind out those gears before a photo opportunity at Jack’s Green when the sun shone on the village.
Having regained the “official” route another diversion was called. The planned Bull Banks crossing of the Frome has no arrows on the OS map whereas the Edgeworth route we rode has two. They proved too much for one rider, whose shoe cleat failed him at a critical moment. It wasn’t his day, for he’d earlier lost a lens from his sunglasses and, later, was to suffer a puncture. Toby eagerly added his name to the roll of potential winners of Bruce’s Bonus. On a positive note, though, Alastair broke his run of bad luck by avoiding any mechanicals.
Park Corner, Daglingworth, and Stratton completed the ride into town and all were able to wind down gently on a path by the river before finding the café shut for the season. Calamity! The Tempo group had thoughtfully delayed their departure to advise us of an alternative, where the surviving seven warmed themselves up from what had been the first really cold ride of the winter. I was so busy counting riders coming and going I lost count of the hills, but who’s counting anyway?
Two of the group chose a scenic route home through Bagendon, hoping to stay out of the cold westerly wind, and the remainder went looking for a railbus at Cirencester station before lunch.
MT.
P.S. I’ve been asked to try and put a few more hills in the route next time, so will do my best.