Vive memor quam sis aevi brevis.

Thursday, 14 July 2016

"On, on, on..."




1965 in the Rainbow.
Yesterday was the 49th anniversary of the death of Tom Simpson on the slopes of Mt. Ventoux during the 13th stage of the Tour d France.

Tom's last ride, 13 July, 1967.
Popular lore tells us that his last words were, "Put me back on my bike." This is apocryphal...

Actually they were "On, on,on."

Tom Simpson was the first Englishman to win the World's Road Championship.

In better days...

Tom with his Peugeot team mate, a young Eddy Merckx.

On Ventoux.

The memorial on Ventoux.

Sunday, 10 July 2016

More turtles

A two-turtle ride:

Along Cuba road


Along Oak Knoll rd.
  i hate seeing roadkill. Anyone who's done any amount of road riding has seen more  than enough of it: the deer on the verge, the various slow squirrels, chipmunks, opossums, raccoons, innumerable birds...
Peek-a-boo...
Whenever i get a chance i try to rescue turtles, usually by just nudging them along off the road, or sometimes picking them up and dropping them into a nearby pond or stream. i don't know why these fellas saunter onto the tarmac- maybe because it's nice and warm, or it's just in the path to another marsh, or perhaps it's some reptilian curiosity about "what's over there?"
(Not to scale)
When they get to this size, i recon they've reached a pretty good age.
Some of  the roads i ride over run next to wetlands, and turtle sightings are not uncommon. Recently i encountered a rather large snapper -wish i'd had a camera. A passing driver stopped and we coaxed it out of the road with a long-handled shovel -neither of us were getting near that maw!

Behold the turtle! He only makes progress when he sticks his neck out.


Thursday, 30 June 2016

One Hundred Years Ago...

No bike stuff today.

Today, 1 July, is the hundreth anniversary of the beginning of the Battle Of The Somme. It lasted until 18 November,  1916.





On the first day of the battle, the British army alone suffered well over 57,000 casualties.


By the end of the battle, there would be over one million killed or wounded on all sides.



So, what have we learnt?


Beaucourt Revisited
I wandered up to Beaucourt; I took the river track
And saw the lines we lived in before the Boche went back;
But Peace was now in Pottage, the front was far ahead,
The front had journeyed Eastward, and only left the dead. 

And I thought, how long we lay there, and watched across the wire,
While guns roared round the valley, and set the skies afire!
But now there are homes in Hamel and tents in the Vale of Hell,
And a camp at suicide corner, where half a regiment fell. 

The new troops follow after, and tread the land we won,
To them 'tis so much hill-side re-wrested from the Hun
We only walk with reverence this sullen mile of mud
The shell-holes hold our history, and half of them our blood. 

Here, at the head of Peche Street, 'twas death to show your face,
To me it seemed like magic to linger in the place;
For me how many spirits hung around the Kentish Caves,
But the new men see no spirits-they only see the graves. 

I found the half-dug ditches we fashioned for the fight,
We lost a score of men there-young James was killed that night,
I saw the star shells staring, I heard the bullets hail,
But the new troops pass unheeding-they never heard the tale. 

I crossed the blood red ribbon, that once was no-man's land,
I saw a misty daybreak and a creeping minute-hand;
And here the lads went over, and there was Harmsworth shot,
And here was William lying-but the new men know them not. 

And I said, "There is still the river, and still the stiff, stark trees,
To treasure here our story, but there are only these";
But under the white wood crosses the dead men answered low,
" The new men know not Beaucourt, but we are here-we know."

-A.P.Herbert.


Monday, 27 June 2016

A Ride out in the Great Corn Desert


Not much in the way of hills, but in Illinois the wind is your hill.

Yesterday the Fox Valley Bicycle &Ski club held its Swedish Days Ride in mostly rural Kane county, west of Chicago. Like many invitational rides in recent years, it was a Fredfest, with fully half of the cyclists present turned out in full Tri kit. It was an interesting sight to behold a paceline comprised of aero-barred riders.

In attendance were not one but two World Champions:

Bet that bike's a bear in a crosswind...

A Rainbow for... which event?
(Just kidding.)

We had some rain...
It was refreshing, actually. Wish it'd lasted all day.
i believe i had the only bike that day that had mudguards... but no one wanted to sit on my slow wheel. i saw a lot of ruined jerseys.

We rode past a Buddhist temple,



i wonder if they'll be filling in that blank page there on the left.
 i'll be checking back in a month or three.


And lots of cornfields...


And soybeans...



It turned hot and windy later in the day; it started to really take it out of me, and i hobbled in as possibly the last rider on the course, where the great people who ran this ride treated me to lots of ice cream goodies and the last of the watermelon.

Many thanks to the organisers of this great ride. i look forward to returning next year, hopefully in better shape.