Thursday 4th January: Ashton to Congresbury. Report from Bill Balchin: I can usually cycle from home to the Ashton start comfortably in an hour, despite and all it's traffic lights. Not today though, with a fierce south westerly wind directly in my face I needed all of the extra quarter of an hour I had allowed. Not only that, our destination of the White Hart at Congresbury is in the general direction of into the wind and I'm already worn out.

It was Julian's first time for leading today so it was no surprise that his route was a big circle around his home town of Nailsea. I think I counted twenty riders before Julian led us out on the Festival Way. For the second time in recent months a kind motorist waited as we crossed over Yanley Lane, and waited, and waited. One of the cars behind was not so patient and gave a few blasts on the horn. There goes his new year resolution to be calmer and more tolerant down the drain. He must have waited for the best part of a minute.

Wriggling through the houses of Long Ashton we passed some guys cutting trees and feeding the branches into a chipper. I did not think much about it at the time but later sitting next to Pete at lunch discovered that he picked up a large pointed stake in his rear tyre. As expected the magic goo in the tyre did it's work and sealed the hole but Pete had to wait for it to harden and ended up making his own, more direct, way to lunch. The rest of the group headed towards Flax Bourton but instead of taking the railway path followed the Road for half a mile then turned right to climb Belmont Hill. This is my usual route home when we come back through Claverham. Would I have to climb it twice in one day? Will I go a different route? No point in thinking about it now, just get up there. The wind was actually in our favour now so the climb, while by no means easy, was not so bad. Forking left at the top towards Failand we crossed over the upper Clevedon Road into Oxhouse Lane.

Oxhouse Lane is just the sort of lane we like to cycle on but today it had something up it's sleeve - a completely flooded section right across the road several bike lengths long. I trickled through pumping the pedals but Andy Short on his fixie had no option but to keep pedaling. Luckily the water was not deep enough to do worse than catch the bottom of his shoes. Aiming for Failand church we descended on the lanes of Lower Failand taking care to leave a safety space and avoid the numerous puddles and patches of road rubbish as we dropped into . Julian led us over the bridge that crosses the M5 and leads to the Sheepway. Normally this would be no problem but the howling wind being funneled along the motorway had a good try at blowing us off. At one point I though that I would have to run down and pick Shirley up from the motorway as a gust pushed her towards the barrier but she managed to unclip quickly and avoid disaster.

Into Portishead now and we started the climb towards the Windmill. I tried to look through the trees to see the state of the channel but all I could see was a muddy, ploughed field with a mass of grey murkiness behind it. Hang on! That is the channel. It was really tough battling the wind along Nore Road and when we got to the top with a some up and down sections we had to pedal on the downhill bits. I was ready to apologise to Guido who was back marker and riding like a slow bicycle race as I ground my way along. I was planning on a short cut to Congresbury as we approached Clevedon but Julian had already decided that our (my?) slow progress dictated that we took the most direct route from Walton in Gordano. Going along the straight road across the Kenn moors it was impossible to ride in a straight line as gusty crosswinds wrenched at your handlebars trying to send you into one of the water filled ditches. Luckily nobody took an early bath. Reaching Yatton we headed towards Congressbury and took the left fork to cross the A370 at the foot of Rhodyate Hill where other kind motorists stopped to let us across. Perhaps they thought we must be lunatics being out on bikes when the wind was now hitting it's peak strength. Hallelujah, we reached our destination. I guess they call it Congresbury from the postcode although it's actually between Congresbury and Wrington. Either way it was wonderful to get inside out of the wind and sink a pint of Badger Best Bitter that was like nectar, although that may be because I needed it so much. This was our first visit here as we would normally stop at the Plough at Congresbury. However the Plough made it so difficult by insisting on food pre-orders but then not supplying a menu that we switched. And from the look of the contented diners and drinkers we will be back.

After the customary "new pub" photo we retraced our route back to Yatton then took the usual way through Claverham and Backwell. Strange how you notice a wind in your face but not when it is on your back. I was expecting to be blown home, hardly turning a pedal but it never works like that does it? On the railway path into Flax Bourton I spoke to Nick and we decided that Belmont Hill was still the best option for home being both direct and away from Bristol traffic so up we went for the second time that day. I can tell you that it is harder after you have cycled an extra thirty windy miles.

See the route but not the wind here.

Message from Bill 4th January 2018. I was pretty exhausted for most of the day on our windy ride to Congresbury. I got home OK still in the light but it would have been so much easier on an electric bike. Many of you know that I have one in my sights - a Giant Road- E+1 Pro. I'm not sure what the Pro bit means as it is obviously an electric bike so could not be smuggled into a pro race.

The 2018 models are still in transit to the UK and expected by the end of January. I have arranged with the Giant store at Bradley Stoke that I can pick up their demonstrator on a Wednesday, ride it on a Thursday and return it after our ride. It can't arrive soon enough. You can see the details here Opens in a new window. If you are good I may allow a few goes on it.

Thursday 11th January: Amcor to North Nibley. Report from Bill Balchin: Days sometimes develop their own themes I find. Today the theme was "closed roads". My favourite route from home to both the Amcor and Bitton starts is called Shellards Lane - and there it was this morning with a big red sign declaring that the road was closed. Nah, I don't believe you. Riding the short distance to the Old Gloucester Road there were two more clusters of signs but not a hint of roadworks. Now on the OGR I reached the Trench Lane turning to find another set of road closed signs blocking the way to the start. This looked a lot more serious with cones, trucks and guys in high viz gear, but when I explained that a bunch of cycling seniors would need to ride that stretch of road just after ten the boss lady was completely amenable. Joining up with the group I counted twenty six eager riders, happy to swap last week's wind for today's dull skies and mist - maybe it would brighten up later.

Setting what I thought was a reasonable pace, but some may have found a bit slow, we negotiated a whole army of high viz litter pickers and hedge trimmers in the direction of Tytherington. A lorry was stopped in the middle of the road while another gang filled a pothole. That left us enough room to pass but meant that we did not get a single car behind us until after we had turned left into Hortham Lane. Descending Fernhill into both Andy and Keith riding fixed pedalled like dervishes as the rest of us coasted down nudging 30 mph. Through Olveston we took the right fork to Elburton where we rode a half a mile towards Alveston before turning left into Sweetwater Lane. I don't know how many are familiar with this lane, it is my default option for home after the Severn Bridge. There was a mucky section until we passed the bridleway where a tractor had been driving up and down, but after that it was just damp and a bit dirty like all the lanes today. The steep drop down Mumbleys Lane took us past the mansion belonging Aaron Banks with his collection of Grommets (as in Wallace and Grommet) grazing on the lawns.

Turning right into Kington Lane we passed Thornbury Castle and wriggled through a housing estate before we got back onto the lanes at Morton. Then around eleven o'clock as we entered Rockhampton the sun appeared. No warmth available but it certainly brightened the day as we cruised along the generally flat lanes through the inappropriately name "Hill" and into Berkeley. More diversion signs as the way into Berkeley was also declared to be closed. But not for bikes as we squeezed past an unattended digger left in the road. Looping through Berkeley we passed the Applegates coach depot, crossed the A38, then turned left past Hogsdown Caravan Park. Over the motorway and we arrived at Nibley Green a few minutes before noon. The thing about Nibley Green is it is on the flat lands of the Berkeley Vale, while our destination of North Nibley is on the Cotswold edge at the top of a steep climb called Frog Lane which was looming in front of us.

Right you folks, you can have a choice now. Straight up Frog Lane and the pub will be almost in front of you in less than ten minutes OR we can take the left turn to the Dursley Road and take a detour into the delights of Waterly Bottom. Pete with the map for today rode Frog Lane with as few others. I led the adventurous heroes through the twists and turns, ups and downs, mud and other general road mess - up, down and then steeply up once we had squeezed past another mini digger that was reclaiming the tarmac from the advance of nature. It would have been nicer on a dry day with better visibility and some greenery but we got a flavour of this out of the way area.

Into the Black Horse soon after twelve I expect we made a big difference to their business today as I only noticed two non-cycling customers. With Steve Hicks arriving by car with a sore back and a handful of others there were thirty of us. The pre-ordered meals were first to be served before the chef got going on the day-orders so some did not get to eat until after one. But we were in no great hurry, the meals were generally considered to be of a good standard, the beer was good although Martyn choked a bit on the cider when he found it was over four quid. At one thirty I managed to bully the group into the second new- pub group photo in a fortnight and then we followed some more well known lanes past Swinhay House and Damery. Oh heck! What has Pete stopped for, not another self- sealing puncture? As we waited at Cromall he caught us up to announce that he needed to secure a rattling bottle cage. Should have bought a more expensive bike if you ask me.

Follow the route without the optional detour here. Thursday 18th January: Mangotsfield Station to Tormarton. Report from Peter Metelerkamp: Today’s ride is led by Martyn Hallett. As one of the strongest among us, guaranteed to be found always in the small but perfectly formed “blister pack” of the fittest and fastest who lead the way (usually including our Queens of Speed and Mountains, and at least one Fastie on a Fixie), Martyn promises to set a brisk pace. Is it therefore a sign of courage or devotion among our community that twenty three present themselves at the start? Mind you, we did know that as a gesture of concession to the derailleur dependent, Martyn would himself be on his fixie today.

Muster is at Mangotsfield Station. You have to be party to some slightly arcane cycling lore to know by that name a rather nondescript series of ruined arches at the junction of Pucklechurch leg of B2B path. No doubt one or more Old Timers among us could remember when it actually served the railways, but none need directions. We gather for banter – the cynosure today being Phil’s white-wheeled blue-framed fixie which looks like something from the nursery and in his hands is no such thing.

Perhaps because it is the year of the Brexit talks and naval tradition when dealing with the French is to take the flotilla on a good run before the wind before turning suddenly to engage, we set off for our Easterly destination by heading North West. The first leg is along the cycle path approaching the Ring Road. Then along the Ring Road cycle path towards the West, before a cut across the “iron bridge” (evidently well known to those who know) and into Winterbourne, before a further counter-intuitive duck down Swan Lane. Now we’re in Old Gloucester Road, heading North, and our bikes probably think we’re off to North Nibley again; but the turn up past Tytherington via Baden Hill to Cromhall allows us to come to the end of our loop and sneak back on our target. This is done in a series of jagged Southward tacks through Cowship Lane, Rag Lane, Frith Lane, the Wickwar road, and Mapleridge Lane to Horton. This is easy, rolling riding through open country, with quiet lanes running between hedgerows in cool bright sun with the wind at our backs; pretty much what the holiday promoters try to pretend all cycling is like – i.e. Perfick. Then comes a damp and wooded dummy run at a hill between Little Sodbury and Old Sodbury along the Cotswold Way. And finally, as we know it must if we’re to broach the escarpment, comes the real thing – the climb up over the edge. But true to form, our commodore cunningly avoids the exposed climb up the busy A432 by taking the “non-navigable” Hill Lane tucked in to the left. For once every rider resourcefully dismounts and walks the first two corners – not so much because of the 14% gradient, as because it starts so immediately, with such a twist, and with absolutely no run-up. Re-grouping duly takes place at the top, with the blessing of traffic lights to cross the A46 (the cyclist’s trunk route from hell) before a half left and the final mile and a quarter into Tormarton. And on top of the Cotswolds one is treated yet again to the mysterious shifts of mood in this small island of ours; with wide fields and winter wind under stacking cloud, there is that thrillingly Tolstoyan feeling of space.

In no time, the Heritage Village is upon us. Swooping round the last corner and into The Major’s Retreat is to be enveloped in welcome warmth, with the party swollen to twenty six. The pre-orders of food come smoothly and fast, except for Grandfather Bill Balchin, who has to wait long enough for his pie to permit him flirtation with the landlady; presumably on some obscure basis of compensation hidden to the more puritan.

By leaving time, dark clouds are piled up, and a deep and angry black storm is stacked in the North East. But we’re heading into the strong wind back to Bristol, and no more than a few wayward drops remind us of the wet elsewhere. (By this time in the day we and our bikes are all mud-spattered from traversing puddles and muddy patches on the lanes, which in January even on a sunny day run with earth-coloured winter water. When we get back, some of us will do a ritual spit ‘n polish cleansing of our bikes before the next outing. Old Salts will deem it not worth the bother.) What a wind! Martyn announces he is going back the “direct way”. That also means, I take, it “at my own pace”. Ducking into the wind down on the drops, for the rest of us speeds of over 17mph on the flat are a struggle, and it’s only with some judicious chain-ganging that Martyn can be kept in reach on the section to Westerleigh. But after the Southward turn back onto the cycle path, the way is sheltered again, and we coast easily into the station. My Garmin says we have done 58.3km from station to station. A delightful circle completed: thanks, Martyn. Follow the route to the Major's Retreat here.

Thursday 25th January. Ashton to Weston-Super-Mare. Report from Bill Balchin: Our fourth ride of the year and already our third new lunch venue - cue a Keith Borrisow special. Keith had devised the whole day, selecting the pub and the route. It is a bold move to choose Weston super Mare at the moment. The distance in a straight line is as much as we would like to ride, and that involves main roads and urban cycling. If the Clevedon and Weston cycle path facebook group are successful we could do it on quiet lanes. Please have a look at their facebook page and "like" it. These things really do have an effect when decisions are made. Meanwhile. let's see what Keith - a man ahead of his time - has in store for the sixteen starters on Ashton Bridge.

The first order of business was to thank Peter Metelerkamp for last week's lyrical report. Naturally the reward for a job well done is the opportunity to do it again, so Peter - the door is always open. And also to anyone else who fancies seeing themselves in print. Just let Bill or Pete C know. After heavy rain earlier in the week the roads had been washed clean and the sky was mostly blue. Just the low temperature and niggling headwind as we did the usual Festival Way, Flax Bourton route into Backwell for a quick bit of main road then back on the lanes through Claverham and into Congresbury. Then it was Hobsons choice time as we cycled the main A370 from the Congresbury traffic lights. It was a bit more hairy than usual pulling away from the lights in the company of two big gravel lorries. After that it was a matter of keeping well the left as vehicle squeezed between us and the central double white lines. Often we turn left for Puxton after a mile to get on the lanes. Today we went a bit further, past the Full Quart and turned right into Wick Road at Hewish. Ahh. Thats better now as we followed a meandering lane past the RCH brewery, over a railway bridge with traffic lights and a sign instructing cyclists to obey red lights (what are they implying?)

Through Wick St Lawrence and into St Georges which turned out to be the outskirts of Weston. Keith kept us off the busiest roads as we made a tour of the burger bars, tattoo parlours and charity shops near the sea front of Weston with a corkscrew through the one way way system (possibly being made up on the wing) before we turned onto the sea front by Weston College and there was the Cabot Court Hotel.

I have to declare myself a fan of the 'Spoons. Character buildings, lots of ales, slick service, meals all day and all at bargain prices. And today our venue lived up to all of these expectations in spades. Apparently Wetherspoons sells the most curry in the UK on a Thursday which is their curry club day - and it is easy to see why. Probably half of the group went for one out of half a dozen curry choices which with rice, naan bread, poppadom and a pint of top class ale set you back a penny under eight quid - fantastic. It's probably just as well that I don't live close to a Spoon, I'd be in there all the time. But nice as it is to sit in the warm eating, drinking and chatting there are photos to take and bikes to be ridden home. The homeward journey turned out to be the reverse of the outward leg - or should have been. I was riding with Mike Sennett in "Eco" mode as we were looking at a 70+ mile day. Somehow we got a bit detached from the rest but the Ramblr map shows some odd bits that we managed to avoid. Please have a like on the Facebook page for the new path, We could visit Weston more often. On second thoughts, just make up your own mind.

See the wriggles here.