This was a thoroughly decent weekend. Great cycling, a terrific group of people and food, beer and weather to match.
Mrs A and I arrived in Lymington to find that Dastardly and Muttley had got there first and put a fiendish diversion in place. Despite this, we managed to get ourselves on the ferry we'd hoped for (9.15) and so were able to hook up with Jon A, Chris and Brian, and later, foot passenger Nigel. We were, sadly, just too early to catch the pumpkin race, for which a sizeable crowd had gathered quayside.
Getting the ferry this early meant I had ample time to get my act together before the stated 10.30 start - as ever, I needed every second and was lucky that Family Ingram (minus one) were late arrivals. Not that late, however, and at 10.45 we set off.
What followed has already been faithfully and eloquently described by Huw - the weather just couldn't have been better and the riding was superb. I enjoyed the pace and felt comfortable all day, except for the chase-down of the lone tester on the military road, and later as we approached Seaview - I attempted to read a roadsign and found I had blurred vision, a first for me.
The bumpy, windy roads and the intensity of the pace meant that I hadn't been able to eat or drink as much as I normally like to, so the local sausages, chips and beans at the lunch stop never really stood a chance. It was as balsa to a furnace, and stood me in good stead for the resumption.
The afternoon brought hard but satisfying work in the company of and shared by our successful breakaway group - Huw, Mike, Chris and Brian (the latter also reaping the benefit of the sausages, chips and beans) - and before we knew it, we were back in Yarmouth.
A bath and a short nap later, Mrs A and I headed down for dinner to be greeted by a scene resembling the last days of Pompeii - entire carcasses picked clean, toad-in-the-holes whose toads were the size of salamanders and bowls of pasta you'd never make meaningful inroads into even if you took all evening over it, as Amy did. Mrs A and I both had a lamb hotpot populated by what must have been a hefty percentage of this year's new births on the island.
Mike, who's from either Portsmouth or Southampton, - I forget which - and so knows a thing or two about the ales of Hampshire, steered me in the direction of the Ringwood. I stuck to the Best (3.8%) which enabled me to see the evening out without doing anything too foolish - like, say, putting my watch in beer or inviting others to pour vinegar and HP sauce on it
But when the band - who turned out not to be a half-decent rockabilly outfit after all, but a Hawaiian-shirt-wearing hubby 'n' wife covers combo of the same name - moved onto the Led Zep covers, I knew that that was my cue to follow Mrs A's earlier lead and call it a night - after all, I had a huge breakfast the next morning to prepare for.
(This was a real artery-clogger and one of the highlights of the trip, by the way - I haven't had fried bread this side of a Tory government. I do wish people would fry it on just one side, but still...)
All too soon it was time to vacate, pay up (not the high point of the trip
) and say our goodbyes. Mrs A and I stayed on and went for a glorious long walk along the cliffs from Freshwater. All the while I regaled her with fascinating vignettes from the day before - "See, we went up there, then we flew down there, and we went all the way out there..."
Caught the 2.30 ferry back and were home with the kettle on by six - not bad going at all.
Wholeheartedly agree that we should make this a regular event - any sort of decent weather and a great weekend is guaranteed. Thanks to Huw for suggesting and organising, to Paul T (who was unlucky enough to get two punctures) for route-planning and to everyone who came along and made it a memorable trip.
PS Photos to follow later this evening