Love cycling in the Surrey Hills, me. There's so much more to it than the 'legendary' Box Hill - so many climbs and descents along paths less well travelled, better views... Not that I could see much of that on my latest sportive adventure.
The Cycling Weekly Surrey Hills Cyclone started out from the excellent facilities at Friends Provident in Dorking under grey and drizzly skies. A larger number of people than I expected crammed into the ample car park, although the usual overspill at the Ashcombe School was being used by the time I departed. It's a testament to this event's popularity and UKCE's peerless organisation that the roadies of Sussex and Surrey, and from further afield, flock here no matter what time of year it is.
The Cyclone is always a challenging route, with favourites like Ranmore Common, Crocknorth and Coombe Bottom in the first 10km, but the first test of the day was filing along to registration, hidden in the grounds at the back of the gymnasium. A steady stream of bewildered cyclists clopped their way into the hall past scaffolding, partially disrobing due to the usual ban on cleated shoes. I could've skipped the 'No SPDs' warning by pedantically stating I was wearing Looks, but I could do without a slap in the face - I'd already been chastised by in the café for wearing earphones.
Bestickered, dossarded and prepped with advice on course signage, our depart was slighly dampened (pun intended) by a reminder that the wind would be picking up later in the morning, just to drive the rain further into my core. It's the first sportive I've ridden where the name predicts exactly what happens over the next four hours so well. I've done Scrambles, Howlers, No Excuses and Hells but these were only partially descriptive or suggestive - today, we were actually heading out into an actual cyclone...
Relentless drizzle aside, there wasn't much early evidence of the weather-based shenannigans to come - in fact there were fleeting moments when the weather was just 'miserable' rather than diabolical. Much of the early course seemed to be on the lee-side of the approaching storm and it was only when my Garmin told me I was cycling south-west that the effort to speed ratio was weighted more towards exertion than reward. The rain started to pervade even the most resolute of rainproof attire, but in the circumstances a warm wetness was not too much to endure. The slopes and the headwind ensured that there was little in the way of freewheeling and few opportunities to cool down.
Constant undulation was the overture to the first nasty climb of the day, a full-on ascent of Winterfold up Barhatch Lane, surely the silliest way to head north in Surrey. Some kind soul has installed a driveway half-way up the steepest ramp for those defeated bygravity or fatigue. Bitter experience has taught me that there's no way to safely reclip if you stop up that section, so the three metre lauch pad it offers is most welcome. From there, the Standard Route (there was no way I was punishing myself with the Epic in those conditions) ran into more open country, and all at a time when the wind, as predicted, started to whip up in earnest.
The feed station at Forest Green couldn't come early enough, especially since I had plans to 'lighten my load' to get up the two final climbs of the day. The soft ground around the copiusly loaded tables, heaving with PowerBar goodness, seemed to suggest that cloven-hooved Mr Tumnus had had long deliberations as to whether to go for Jelly Beans, Jaffa Cakes or flapjack, and there was much clopping around the car park as feet were stamped to remove the clods of mud. The course split provided Standard and Epic riders with a Red Pill/Blue Pill scenario as a marshal at the exit of the feed station gleefully taunted us each time he pointed to the direction for the Short Route.
Suitably enobled by my decision to go left onto the Righteous Path (i.e. the one I signed up for), it was a partial relief to learn the extra 20km loop contained no more significant climbs, merely more opportunities to pedal fruitlessly into the headwind. Part of this loop was shared with cyclists who had already endured this torture, and their returned waves were more cheery than they deserved to be, a characteristic I'm sure I imagined as much as those to whom I waved when I passed them on my way back.
Still - Leith Hill awaited, and after that, the killer final climb up White Down. The route up Leith was the (comparatively) gentle Broomehall Lane, a traverse across the lower summit at Windy Gap (thankfully, not living up to its name this day) and then down the south side once more, the reverse of the ascent endured by Boris on the RideLondon course. We still had to get to the other side of the Leith to get to the enormous ridge of White Down, and this was through Holmbury St Mary and down the unfamiliar approach via Raikes Lane.
Half-way down here I encountered my first and only mechanical of the day when my front cog refused to shift into the larger ring. I had to stop at the end of Raikes to adjust it, wrongly believing I would encounter unnecessary suffering up White Down if I didn't have all my gears - not that I've ever done anything other than granny-ring trundle up that beast. And trundle I did, subconciously spurred on by each dismount I saw ahead of me. It says a lot about my ability to climb that the speed I generate only just exceeds those who get off and use Shanks' Pony...
Having nailed White Down, albeit at a glacial pace, the remaining 5km was downhill and a chance to buy back some time, or so I thought. A scary descent back down Ranmore was truncated with a surprise left turn back towards the A24, and as I got my head down to TT along past the Ashcombe School I missed another left turn. I could've gone straight to the end of the road and turned there, but I decided to slow and finish the signposted route, all of which gave the people I'd passed since White Down the glorious sight of a slow-motion 'clipless moment' into the grass verge. Thank you to the guy on the Pinarello who stopped laughing long enough to check I was OK.
It turned out to be not quite as horrible as I'd anticipated, weatherwise. This wasn't a day for leaving it all on the road - the road seemed to have come home with me, judging by the amount of filth stuck to my clothes, wheels and frame. The course is a good one if you like hills upon hills upon hills. This would be a stunner in July or August. As usual, UKCE support and signage was top notch and it was a nice touch to get a recovery bar at the end - and a medal that commemorated the Surrey Cyclone, rather than just a generic gong.
0 Comments