Newsletter
August/September
2006

Dieppe Raid by Andy Bebington

Why do we do it? Why do we take waterproofs and overshoes for a summer ride? Why do we pack arm warmers and leg warmers for a ride in France in late June? And why, when we leave the hotel in light drizzle, do we say to ourselves "It'll clear up soon, it was nice yesterday!" and pedal off to the start in the town centre, leaving all the weather proofing behind after carrying it so far? That's what happened to some of us in Dieppe this year.....

Friday was nice, not too hot, not too cloudy or humid, as three of us did our usual ride into Newhaven via the Cuckoo Trail for an overnight stay in a B&B; Saturday was dry as we crossed to Dieppe and wandered round the town in the afternoon. In the event, though, we didn't know it on Sunday of course, late Monday, when we rode from Newhaven to a B&B north of Lewes, and all day Tuesday as we rode back to Croydon, would be dry. It was just Sunday that was wet.

The Sunday when we had a 140 km ride on the books (although it turned out to be a few miles longer than that). The Sunday when we stopped for David's puncture and found that Peter had one too, so Willie and Patrick carried on; we'd catch them up somewhere, we said, except that we sailed past the cafe where they were having a break, didn't see them or their bikes, carried on trying to catch them up. "Surely", we thought, "we can't have passed them on our detour via the scenic route?" Yes, once again we'd missed a turn somewhere along the coast and taken the wrong two sides of a rectangle, we eventually picked up our route but map reading wasn't easy in the rain and we eventually got to the chateau for lunch and no one had any news of Willie and Pat.

Heads down and plough on, rain never easing, hills not as pleasant as in previous years, not even those going down. Nice countryside? Maybe, but we never got to look at it! And always there was the knowledge that the last hill out of Pourville remained, prior to the drop into Dieppe, it was always there, always just over the horizon.. Until, all of a sudden, it wasn't "just over the horizon", it was the horizon. We'd dropped down into Pourville, turned right onto the sea front and there it was, half a mile away. The Cliff. Yes, I know, we climbed it up a zigzag, the gradient isn't anything special but that first view was, to say the least, daunting. And we'd already done the scheduled 140 km....

Never mind, we'll be back next year, maybe we'll get some sunshine and maybe we won't miss that wretched left turn somewhere after the nuclear power station. Again.

One in Three and a Half - A Poem by Andy Bebington

Three and a half! Three and a half! Three and a half! Three and a half!
The rhythm is that of a train on a railway; Diddle dee dum! Diddle dee dah!
It's driving and thrusting and pushing you onwards; three and a half! three and a half!

We started from Taunton, a couple of dozen; Trevor was missing, we'd meet him at Bampton
And Basil the car had cases and bags on, as we pedalled off on a route made by Sustrans
And we rode together till meeting with Basil then went at our own pace and rode on to Bampton
The old Devil's Elbow is that it? I missed it! Well, somebody missed it, 'cos Richard went northwards
And Bawdens in Bampton had set up a room and we tucked into samies and pasties and pastries
‘cos all of the time we knew what was coming; three and a half! three and a half!

We'd been told of this hill south of Bude, place called Millook, Three and a half! Three and a half!
And someone said hey! that's thirty per cent! On a tandem! Or my bike, or riding recumbent, what,
Three and a half Three and a half! They're having a laugh, it's surely a laugh!
And it haunted your mind and it haunted your legs and you ate and you drank and you stoked up the fuel
For three and a half! Three and a half!

There were nervous old tummies that morning at breakfast and some had found routes that avoided the horror
Of three and a half! Three and a half! And they rode over moors and they followed a road
That bypassed old Millook and the hill that awaited.
And then it got worse 'cos the downhill was horrid; Three and a half! Three and a half!
And I walked to the bottom and mounted and prayed and sought granny ring, smallest gear, deep breath, oh
Mother dear, pray for me now, pray for me now!

And the hill it goes on and gets just that bit easier fifteen per cent, behind the recumbent;
How does he ride that on a hill quite that steep? Three and a half! Three and a half!
And you get to the top and a bloke dressed in overalls standing quite still at the top of the hill
Tries to talk as you're riding! The top of a ramp which is three and a half! Three and a half!
And this bloke wants a chat! He must be a right prat! 'cos I'm having a seizure and panting for breath and he
Stands there and talks and I'm staring down death and it's three and a half! Three and a half!

And we gather for lunch with the peacocks and otters and talk about heartrates and gearing and triumph
And some took a side route, avoiding the issue, "wise people", you think, though you're glad that you made it
Up Three and a half! Three and a half!
Then at supper, the same thing, and people keep talking of riding it tandem! Recumbent! Or anything!
Three and a half! Three and a half!

And Trevor and Dave rode the hill for a charity; three and a half! Three and a half!
And collected donations to help at the hospice; and we all felt good 'cos we'd cycled it too,
climbing three and a half! Three and a half!
And at home they all asked us if we'd had a good time and "what was it like, is it lumpy or something?"
So we smiled and said "yes, there were hills down in Devon, and Cornwall and Somerset" –
Tried to imagine my old dad's Ford Popular coping with Millook and three and a half! Three and a half!

There's nothing quite like it in't Borough of Croydon or anywhere else that I've ridden this year
But I walked down the down bit so couldn't collect on the offer from Tim of a tankard of beer;
And I think I'll remember, next time I meet Trevor, we'll yam about tours that we've been on together
Will all our companions refuse to believe when we tell them of Millook and that there steep valley?
Yes, we'll both remember, and tell with a laugh of three and a half! Three and a half!