It was fitting that on the day Wiggo was to attempt his amazingly successful World Hour Record that Norman should show up on his vintage Fausto Coppi bike. A thing of beauty to behold in all its elegant simplicity, not to mention the heroic gear ratios. Oh dear, bearing in mind the advertised route to Buxted included the Ashdown Forest it would have been discourteous were we not to attempt ‘The Wall’.
Hey-ho off we went, we five comprising Alex, Hugh, the redoubtable Dave G, Philip and (Stormin) Norman for a 35 mile outward leg to The Strawberry Fayre Tearooms (RIP), Oast Farm, Buxted. In the razzle dazzle of midsummer sunshine such was my clarity of vision that we barely made it to Smallfield before the first navigational error cost us close on a mile. Thus our chances of ranking in Adrian’s “who can get nearest 70 miles, Drome and back, in RCC’s anniversary year” competition were scuppered. For incompetents like me I propose an alternative Garmin Art contest (see picture). Can you ride it and post on Strava? No cheating, cadence data required, unicycle advisable.
Anyway back to business: we took a standard RCC route to Hartfield passing through Dormansland and Furnace Lane (Earwig Cottages on the left – get a load of that musty damp aroma – a boot camp for gastropods) and over Harts Lane (not without protest) to the foot of Kidd’s Hill. Silence strangely prevailed as we grunted our way up to the ice cream van stationed on permanent picket at the summit, although Dave did comment that he was grateful this wasn’t his first of seven laps as in days of yore. Fausto did brilliantly, a feat for which he would pay later. All downhill from here to the tearoom, (just joking), we swung left and skirted Crowborough and on to a choppy lane towards High Hurstwood followed by an impossibly long descent fetching up on the A272 in Buxted. RIP? - the strawberries had rotted in the field, the Strawberry Fayre Tearoom was closed. Apparently they had been open for a couple of weeks but the chef had left, no doubt with saucepans flying, culinary histrionics, open warfare at the pass etc. so no cake for us; suggestions please.
Duddleswell? No, too touristy and expensive, Green Fingers Café? That’s better? So we rode with pride up the hallowed lanes the TdF came down on July 6th 1994 – ah, yes, I remember it well – in fact judging by the road surface, the very same tarmac as well, to Ashdown Forest Garden Centre and Nursery. A cyclists’ favourite and our choice, the café was great and we recharged our batteries whilst basking on the sunny terrace. Back through Nutley it was on the lane towards Chelwood Gate that Norman’s Coppi copped a crucial crank catastrophe requiring running repairs. Who said they don’t make them like they used to? By then Alex had performed his Houdini act and escaped off the front towards Danehill never to be seen again: he selecting Freshfield Lane into Horsted Keynes and us opting for the more direct route. So with Norman nursing his wounded bike home we remaining three headed across the reservoir and down past Tulleys to the Drome. 70 miles round trip (give or take – sorry Ade) at a Sunday Steady pace; a fine day out and enjoyable company.
Philip Gibson