The same bunch at The Folders Christmas Lunch having survived the ride to Dawlish Warren.
On Thursday, 28th, Oct, 2009 the Folders held the first of their “ extra” rides. Thirteen of us took the Bluebird coach to Exeter with folding bikes to ride down to Dawlish Warren and back, led by the indomitable Sir. Kenneth Reed.
It was whilst taking our elevenses, ten minutes and two hundred and fifty yards into the ride, that we discovered to our horror (but not amazement) that the honourable member for Coberg Road and President of the Dorchester Twilight and Cremation club, (five bob a week gets you an oak one with genuine brass handles) Michael Letten, was no longer in the congregation.
Searches were made of the surrounding area to no avail, but Sir. Kenneth did raise him on his mobile. (How come I can never get a signal!). He was already down by the river and on his way. We set off to pick him up and after a few more phone calls and false sightings, he did finally join up to loud cheers and applause.
We were following Sustrans Route Two, and it was a lovely ride, wide cycle path alongside the River Exe, a separate footpath for walkers and the big thing, NO traffic. But for one rear wheel puncture we followed this route down to our lunch stop at the canal lock by the Turf hotel and sat watching the boat traffic in the sun, but with a chilly breeze blowing. There appeared to be a large number of old wrecks in the river and I remember thinking, I had not seen that many old wrecks in one day since I went down to the ferry to see the Brittany Belles off on a French trip.
We then had to ride a difficult track/path with the river on one side and a steep bank on the other, but we arrived at Dawlish Warren without further mishap. There was a small café there by the station and a chance for a cuppa before starting back for our five thirty appointment with the coach home.
We took to the roads for a spell, mainly because Sir. Kenneth wished to avoid the dodgy track I mentioned before and that was O.K, until he stopped to look at the map, and everyone shot off up the road. I followed behind them trying to keep an eye on them and allowing him to catch up, I could see him in my mirror and suddenly he was shouting and pointing to the right and I realised he wanted to turn there. I hared off up the road and caught the others, shouting for them to turn back, which they did. Ken was waiting to take a track leading back to the riverside.
After some way riding quite a muddy, slippery track we came to a railway embankment and at the top of the bank were two high gates…padlocked! We needed to cross the rail track here to get back to the river. So everyone started to lift folders and luggage over the gates, we then had to get over ourselves and it was very interesting to see the methods employed. Stokes went up slowly but steadily, she was muttering threats of violence to runs leaders in general and one in particular! Sue Baker approached like a highly trained athlete she looked up the slope to the top of the gates, did a funny little on the spot dance, like Michael Palins Fish Dance in Monty Python, then off she went, she shot up the side of the gate O.K., then it all seemed to go pear shaped and she finished up stretched face down on the top bar of the gate. Her face had changed from the highly trained athlete going for gold, to someone desperately trying to get out of Alcatraz and hearing the sirens going off! I got over O.K. with various ladies of the group sticking my feet in the right holes. We were then by the river and at our lunch stop for the second time.
Back on the path we were making good time and enjoying it until Sir. Kenneth stopped for a quick check with the map, and then it happened again, riders who did not know where they were going in front of the leader who did know where he was going. When they reached a T-junction at a bridge we thought they would stop, but no, they started to turn left across the bridge, our route was to the right. Sir Kenneth asked me to nip on and get them turned round (one man and his dog springs to mind!). I came up behind shouting and going on about riders in front of the leader and they stopped dead and turned around. Unfortunately Serena stopped, got off her bike, caught hold of the saddle to swing it round in the right direction, and the screw holding the chain tensioner shot out,* where we do not know. Meanwhile Sir Kenneth had caught up, got the riders behind him again and set off. I pulled into the side of the track, wondering why about five riders were scrabbling about on their hands and knees.
At first I thought the Mole might have dropped a penny piece, but I realised he was in the front group. After two or three minutes scrabbling around, John Hartley came up, explained the problem and said she might find it difficult to ride the machine at all as they could not find the screw. I was worried that Sir. Kenneth, thinking we were behind him again, might carry on into Exeter and I was not sure of the way into the city. Luckily, he had realised we were not there and stopped.
I had just got my breath back (I really am too old for these gallops) and explained that Serena might have to walk, when she came sailing past, going very steadily and not changing gear but at least riding. The five thirty deadline was so important, other passengers were on the coach, some had gone down to Plymouth and were being picked up first and the driver wanted us there ready to board when the coach got there.
We pulled into Exeter at about five o’clock and finished the ride having tea in the bus station café, where we had started. Five thirty, found us at the coach stop, folders folded and ready to board, but we had not had a lot of time to play with.
I should like to pay tribute here to a new, younger member of the folders who has taken to it like a politician to an expense account. She rode her folder perfectly, never panicked when things got hectic, and behaved with the dignity and calmness of a much more mature person. I refer to Maureen Hartley. Maureen can also turn her hand to a nifty bit of cake making I might add!
My verdict on the day, brilliant, a really good day out, lots of fun, scenery and minor disasters, a day club cycling as we did in the fifties, only then we were on the main roads. It was lovely to climb into the warm comfortable coach and settle down for the ride home. Mole turned to Mike Letten and bet him that Mike would be asleep before we got out of Exeter. In fact they were both asleep, I know because I was awake…..I think!
I can only hope that this was first of many folder/coach assisted days or weekends come to that. We can again get to places that are out of reach for those of us with no transport. This trip with a normal bike would have involved a complicated train journey and at least one night’s bed and breakfast.
The folders are very popular, not just because of the folding bikes, but I feel we must pay credit to the efforts of Ann and Sir. Kenneth who put such a lot into arranging and organising the rides.
In case you are wondering, I bestowed the knighthood on Sir. Kenneth (Liz does take my advice, but it is so difficult to get hold of her at the garden parties.) I gave it for services he has given to my GPS, and several of the folders. (GPS, Global Positioning System.)
Another one up for knight-hood. also for years of devotion and dedication to the GPS, the Mole. In his case GPS stands for Grahams Purse Strings!
Keep your eye open on the Folding front, more “extra“ days planned and hopefully if the support is there, maybe the odd weekend. You have been warned.
*The next day I checked the screws on my Bromptons, and although not coming out, they were loose enough for a bit of tightening. The old bikes seem to go on and on with a minimum of maintenance and they do not get much this weather, do they?
See you up the road; God willing.
The same bunch at The Folders Christmas Lunch having survived the ride to Dawlish Warren.
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