Date: Tuesday 26th June 2012
Route: WP, Martyn's Bridge, Cann, Newnham, Cann, HQ.
Riders: James, Paul, Alun, Dan, Colin, Julian, Stephen, Steve & Sam.
Depart WP: 19:40
Arrive HQ: 10:30
Distance: 21 miles
Weather: Foggy

On a real pea-souper, Tarmac, Steve B, Sam, James, Colin, Paul, Alun, Dan and Julian headed off from W.P. bound for Cann via Drake’s trail, Col’s idea to stay low. The usual deviations as each man chose his own path to eventually converge at Goodameavy. The banter was good and the classic riders gave the rest of us some insights as to what it is like to be in the saddle for anything between 4 and 7 ½ hours, a cast-iron under-carriage helps…….

At the kissing gates, up through Cann, at the T junction Paul and I sat and observed each rider’s attempt to manage the short but steep climb and were not disappointed as we witnessed Colin’s dishonouarable dismount as he failed to unclip from his new shoes.

Rather than the usual left turn we headed right, unchartered territory for most of us. Apparently Alex had shown some of the gents up this way and four vaguely familiar riders blasted past on a very promising downhill track.

Some umming and arring and then a decision to head for Newnham Park, Paintball lane and then down the mucky bridal path. I managed to talk the gents into veering from the path into the forbidden land that is Newnham: good job there were no policemen about…..

Well, I am a fan of Newnham and retraced a few of the tracks that I have ridden before, a tricky and rooty path, Alun pointed out each root painted white, most helpful. The bomb-holes were puddled and some of the tracks that I have previously ridden were out-of-bounds due to fallen branches/trees. A river crossing where I demonstrated how not to do it.

I thought each gents approach to the crossing gave an insight into there inner-most character, Bradfield-reliably consistent, Page-jerky but ultimately successful and as the troops gathered to watch Tarmac’s attempt, all to lose, he snatched victory from the jaws of defeat, hurrah.

We made our way up the other side of the valley and popped out on the road, again decision time, tarmac or mud? Mud of course, so it was so back up the bridal path and to Cann. At this point it occurred to me that some of our number were understandably zapped from the weekends exertions and there were more than a few grumbles from the rear. My chain snapped, bad karma, but strangely Tarmac to the rescue with a donated powerlink. Beer-o-clock now so full throttle to HQ, arriving at 10:30ish, 21 nautical mud miles traveled, what fun!

Reporter: Sam