Waiting for me at Brookside were Susan and John F. In the few minutes before 1pm our number was rounded up to a quintet with the arrival of Peter H and Ray.
My thanks go to John for providing today’s photography as the charge in my camera battery lasted no longer than the life expectancy of a piece of cake on Susan’s plate!
We cycled out of Cambridge using the Vicar’s Brook side path, which starts opposite Brooklands Avenue and crosses over two small river bridges on Lamas Field before emerging on the Barton road corner. This leads conveniently onto Granchester Meadows and Bridle Way, off the Coton road. Before you know it, you’re four miles out of Cambridge having seen little more than sleepy side streets, back waters of open fields and only a momentary aerial view of motorists jockeying for position in another distant dimension. (the M11)
Much of the route from there was CTC standard prescription Chapel Hill, Orwell, Wimpole Hall, Croydon, Hatley and Gamlingay, especially popular with Thursday rides, John tells me.
You’d think that arriving at Waresley GC at 3.06pm would be the end of my getting us lost but no. They’d re arranged it to have Ray and me touring all of it, twice, before catching the others for tea.
For the fourth time in only 33 years Simon D joined the group that I was with for tea, which, as he lives locally, helped me pave the first leg of the way home...
Tea at Waresley
...Leaving the garden centre past the Duncombe Arms the lead was temporarily delegated to Simon. He showed us the way through Great Gransden, Caxton and as far as the concrete track that emerges from Great Cambourne just on the south side of the Old Saint Neots road. Very useful to know.
From there on of course, the easy ride home in the dark was all down hill and very much the way a crow would fly it as far as Coton.
Since the last blog the £10 cycle computer has made a full recovery from its nervous breakdown. As a means to encourage non member readers how accessible our rides are, the mileage from Brookside and back to Cambridge was a full three pedal strokes inside 40 miles.
In the calm of a Sunday evening without human interference on the Riverside stretch of The Cam, swans had populated the full width of the river like a field of stone angels from a Dr Who episode. Oh but they made it look so peaceful. Simon Gallaway