HITTING THE HIGHWAY AGAIN

 It’s been a year, give or take, since I got my bike back after the accident. I haven’t been on any long trips, for circumstances unrelated to the residual cynicism about other road users, suspicion of all other vehicles and general paranoia and hyper awareness around the potential for everyone else to be utterly unpredictable, non-signalling and unobservant. I realise that these - or their levels at least - are what might be called post-traumatic effects. I’m just not sure that’s a bad thing, if it makes me safer on the road. 

I have done the fateful trip again, because I did not need any more reasons to hate the M25 (the world’s longest parking lot), and I refuse to let one idiot put me off that nightmare fuel even further. 

There’s definitely a place for learning from bad experiences, from pain and injury. I just hope the careless drivers also learn from their mistakes. But, given my increased cynicism, I’m really not holding my breath. 

EPITAPH

When I was still too small to be allowed in the front seat of the car, my mother taught me the epitaph of John Grey, who died defending his right of way (He was perfectly right as he sped along, but he’s just as dead as if he’d been wrong). She may have regretted it, because I repeated it every time we took that route. It was, however, the start of my policy of Not Arguing With Idiots if at all possible. 

But it isn’t always. Any biker knows the score: you’re happily cruising in your lane, and some absolute gearstick decides to move, with nary a signal nor a blind spot glance. You notice the cage edge over the line and you have that instantaneous sinking inevitability: you have nowhere to go and no time to get there. Cue sickening metal crunch. 

This happened to me recently, at 60mph. I’m lucky - I have no broken bones, no concussion or whiplash. My helmet, jacket, boots, gloves… they’re all completely trashed, but they did their job. A high quality helmet is cheaper than brain damage. Good armour in a good jacket is cheaper than a broken back (or arm). 

And my bike? Well, the paramedics wouldn’t let me near it (clearly they are not bikers), so we wait for that damage assessment, whenever the insurance gets around to it. Equally clearly, they’re not bikers either. 

SPRINGING FORWARD

The first flowers of spring are emerging - snowdrops, crocuses and towering over them, everywhere, daffodils. One of the biggest advantages bikes have over cars is their openness. There’s nothing between your leathers and the world, nothing but the visor between your face and the air. The quality of the air changes with the seasons - the cold of early spring does not feel the same, somehow, as the same temperature in winter. I’m sure there’s a complicated meteorological reason for that, but I’m not a scientist. I’ll just appreciate it, and the sight of colourful nodding flower heads on the verges, medians and roundabouts. 

     

 

There’s something oddly satisfying about the combination of a sunny pub terrace, daffodils popping up haphazardly as they do, and a wood fire taking the edge off the chill.

CHILLS, SPILLS…

 It’s been a cold winter so far, as well as a wet one. Riding days have been few and far between. When the weather is sufficiently clear and the roads dry enough that going out is not to hazard one’s life on slippery patches, black ice or no visibility through the mist, the air has been frigid enough to stall the engine whenever the revs drop - whether slowing down, changing gear or simply idling. It’s a little disconcerting, especially on roundabouts and hills. The problem is that the fuel recondenses too quickly for ignition as it enters the combustion chamber, and idle boosting additives can only do so much - not enough, it seems, for the air we’ve been having lately. Roll on spring, for all its rain and wind. I’ll take it if it comes with a few more degrees on the thermometer.

HAND IN GLOVE

The winter rain let up for long enough for the roads to dry a little, and while there was the seasonal excuse for sunlight, I went to Denbies. It’s a favourite winter run -  far enough for the battery to stay healthy, but close enough that I can generally still feel my fingers when I get there. I have tried all the gloves, believe me: heated gloves (they aren’t all that effective in the kind of headwind you get on a bike, and need too much recharging), double layer gloves (warm, but tend to pull their inner layer inside out when you take them off, which is problematic when you come to put them back on again), and ski gloves, which I bought for cross-country skiing and which have more flexibility than any downhill gloves I’ve tried. They don’t tend to pull inside out and also have convenient handles at the cuffs with which to pull them on (I’m not sure that was designer’s intention, but I also don’t care. It’s a useful feature). I may have to redesignate them as winter riding gloves. 

My fingertips, however, were still cold (negative temperatures in a wind chill will do that), so it was a lovely feeling to curl them around my coffee cup while basking in the warmth of central heating and festive atmosphere. 

SALAD DAYS

 Recently, I had occasion to brave the A303 past Stonehenge. As anyone who has ever taken that road knows, there are always queues. I believe 3am is clear most mornings, but that’s just a rumour at best. The road narrows to one lane as it passes the henge, and this is a major road heading southwest from London. Of course it narrows - Stonehenge and the surrounding landscape is a UNESCO site, after all. Most drivers seem to have had it explained to them that almost all  bikes are air-cooled, so they will generally get out of your way if they can, at least. However, this traffic meant that once past that, around about the A36 junction, I was getting fairly hungry. I turned south, and headed for Rainbow on the Lake, in Steeple Langford, which had come up on google maps and intrigued me. 

It has reasonable parking - half paved, half gravel but on what’s best called an interesting camber. I parked up and headed in. The terrace was closed, but there is also a bit of garden to the side, so I parked myself comfortably in the sun. 

I took a slight risk and ordered salad. You can never be sure what a pub understands by the term ‘salad’. This place gets it right. From what I saw of other patrons’ lunches, this place understands the art of having a limited menu and doing it extremely well. 

I did not try their coffee, as the day was too hot. But I shall visit again, I am sure, now that I’ve found them. 

DOWN THE HATCH

 I like the Wotton Hatch. It has nice (paved) parking behind it, and while it’s on an A-road, with an easy-to-miss and somewhat hazardous turn into the entrance which crosses over another road meeting the A-road, it has made the most of its garden.

There’s a lot of lavender near the road, which smells better than exhausts, and hedges to further reduce the noise. Tables are well-spaced and most have parasols, which is great for anyone as prone to sunburn as I. Plus, it does good coffee and good food and has no objection to bikes. 

Also, I got a macaroon with my coffee. Okay, it’s not my favourite sweet bite with coffee, but small bites with coffee are a practice to be encouraged at every turn. 

PLEASANT PHEASANT

 I wandered out to the Pheasant at Buckland this week, during a gap in the rain. Alas, not a gap in the roadworks which currently haunt the A243, the A24 and the A25. ‘Tis the season. 

The Pheasant has a lovely garden, half of which is comprehensively covered against the possibility (probability?) of rain. They also do a really nice vegan beetroot tartlet, which makes a lovely lunch. Plus they serve flapjackesque bites with coffee. Bonus brownie (flapjack) points to anyone who gives me a little baby sweet treat with my coffee. 

I took a different route home, which involved fewer roadworks but more traffic. Swings and roundabouts, I guess, but the B2032 and the B2033 are fun roads for a biker on a dry summer day.

GARDEN PARTIES

This summer, such as it has been so far, I am checking out pub gardens. This was inspired by the garden at the Mill in Gomshall, which has a beautifully lush, large garden. The current managers serve good food, and have a halloumi sandwich on their weekday menu I had not yet managed to try (because I usually go there on Sundays and have a roast). I can now recommend it unreservedly.

Since the one dry day was a weekday, I took myself along the pleasantly scenic and twisty route (they’ve resurfaced the A24 section near Box Hill, finally! It’s so beautifully smooth at the moment!). I do like the ability to Work From Phone… 

MOTORCYCLES AND THE MET

There are a lot of people who feel that the police are anti-motorcycles. Certainly, the people who make the road rules seem to, sometimes. I've met the occasional police who are against the concept (2 of them, in Ireland, at 3am, after losing my balance on adverse camber, 3 bikes ago). Generally, though, I've found they're are only anti-idiots. As are most experienced bikers.  

The Met Police's motorcyclists run BikeSafe courses, for pity's sake. One of my all time favourite memories on two wheels is of doing this course while I still had L-plates. We were on the A40, near the junction with the A205 at Hanger Lane (major junction, for those who don't know London), and a white van cut me up. Next thing he or I know, the cop observing my ride taps on his window and proceeds to give him hell for not looking properly before attempting a legally dodgy lane change. It was a beautiful moment.

I had another one on my last ride out - just a little local run down to Chessington Garden Centre, which I love for both its café and its designated motorcycle parking right in front of the door. More places could take notes. While I was queuing for my coffee, a uniformed officer in front of me turned around and asked me about my bike. She rides too, and we had a very happy little exchange about our respective Harleys and their customisations until the queue moved us along. 

TIS THE SEASON

 I went to Somerset for the weekend, to get a decent ride in while the weather was less rainy than usual. I had forgotten, of course, that ‘tis the season to do roadworks. Deck the roads with lots of traffic cones and all that. Of course, roadworks come with tailbacks of confused and irritated drivers (who apparently got their licences from a cereal box). At least I can filter. 

Now, it should take no more than 3.5 hours to get from London to Somerset on a bike, even on the A303, even with the congestion around Stonehenge (the sign says queues likely. Queues inevitable, more like). It took 4.25 this time, without stopping. I know, I know,  the M4 would be quicker but it’s BORING. The A-roads route is more fun, especially the A371 through the Mendips where you get scenic little places like Croscombe, which has been around since the eighth century at least. 

LAZY LIKE SUNDAY

One of the lovely things about living at this latitude is the long spring and summer evenings, especially after the clocks change. However, there is the parallel tendency to fill these light hours up with things - fun things, social things, but things nonetheless that result in going to bed very late, waking up correspondingly late and in a the kind of lazy mood in which you do not notice the day slipping away until it is far too late to contemplate anything remotely resembling a decent ride. I’ve had two of those in a row, so I’m sure the bike will have plenty to say about it when I do finally manage a decent distance run.

MAY DAY

It’s hard to believe it’s already May. The weather has been typically indecisive so far (it May rain, it May not, it May hail...) but for once the bank holiday weekend was not completely rained off. In the UK, this is something of a landmark event. Sunday morning was beautifully mild and sunny for a ride down to one of my favourite pubs, The Mill at Gomshall, which opened up a bit early for me and served me a very good coffee - which is one of the reasons I like them. 

They also have properly paved parking and a very nice big garden, as well as being a pleasant ride out from London on a not-too-warm spring day. 

The days are getting longer and hotter, and hopefully drier, so longer rides are becoming a prospect again. Yay!

SPRING BLUES

 One of the downsides of spring riding is the eternal question mark over what my insurer’s position is on accidents while sneezing. This is hay fever season, and the UK weather is consistently variable to boot, so there is a relatively strong possibility, in spring, that if I have an accident, it will be while I am sneezing. I suspect my insurer would call this an Act Of God, which is Insurance for Not Covered. I’d cross my fingers, but, well, that would just make riding harder, and thus make accidents even more likely. 

Another downside is the tendency of the first reasonable weather and the longer, lighter evenings to rouse that most worrying of creatures - the occasional driver - from hibernation. These are the people who, while they own a car, don’t habitually drive. In fact, they drive so seldom that they forget how, in between times, basic things like indicating, lane discipline, and the highway code go. They forget that the road is not a train carriage, nothing runs on rails and other road users have a) existence and b) rights. 

They also forget how to park. Now, I grant you, this can help a bike out, sometimes, because while cars will curse you for using a parking space (not that there are alternatives), they do so less when someone else has parked so badly they wouldn’t be able to fit in the first place. Of course, the concern in those cases is whether the Occasional Driver who has parked so badly will be sufficiently competent to extricate himself without damaging your bike. The trick is to park so as to minimise the odds, but these things are never guaranteed.

STARRY EYED

In winter, one remembers just how far north the UK really is, because there is so little daylight. And that’s not factoring in the weather. So it’s always with some trepidation that I start my bike after a weather or work induced break from riding. 

Luckily, photovoltaic technology has improved significantly since the very first solar powered experiments, and my little solar panel has managed to keep enough of a trickle of charge flowing so far that the engine, however reluctantly in the cold, has started every time so far this season. 

The other issue with winter weather is its changeability. I had only a short window between showers, so I went to a favourite winter-ride pub: The Star at Leatherhead. It has heaters and shelter over its outdoor tables and actual fires inside. They’re also dog and bike friendly, which is not always as advertised in pubs. 

It was remarkably busy for a Saturday when I got there, but as usual, the service was welcoming and attentive, and the food was as good as usual. 

Also, they give you little chocolates with your coffee, which is always a plus. 

GLARE AND SPRAY

Lately, it has been rather wet. It’s that autumnal time of year again, when the leaves are browning but not crisping, because it rains too much for that. I went for a ride on a Friday, which is a nice day to go, because it falls between week and weekend from a traffic perspective. This is a mixed bag in autumn, because wet roads glare with the low-angled sun, and spray when a car or truck passes, and take longer to dry with fewer hot engines passing over them. 

I went to the Mill at Gomshall, off the A25 between Dorking and Guildford, which has gone through at least 4 sts of management since I first discovered it. So far they have all maintained the nicely paved parking. 

The current, post-covid management has clearly put some thought into things, because they had the fire going. They took one look at my blue-tinged self and seated me cosily next to it, despite not officially being open just quite yet. They supplied me with coffee and a menu - the latter in expectation of opening in the next ten minutes. The menu changes every set of management and again, this lot have thought about it. It’s a nice balance between variety and still being small enough to do it all properly. This is not an easy balance to strike. 

As cold as the day was, and as glaring as the road was, I have added this pub back to my winter rides list.

SEASONING

 Recently, I went for the first ride after 3 weeks of solar trickle in the failing light and sun of a British autumn. Photovoltaic technology has improved to the point where strong, direct sunlight is no longer a prerequisite for generating electricity. My little panel worked, it seems, enough so that the bike started at the first try, despite the cold and lack of recent use. 

It is, as I said, autumn, the changeover season of jeans with winter gloves, summer boots and winter buff. It’s the season of extremely irritating light levels - you realise just how far north the UK is when the sun remains at such a glaringly impossible squint of an angle for hours on end. 

It’s autumn - the start of the pub roast season. So I got to thinking about how to judge a pub, having spent the summer judging vineyards by criteria other than wine. 

Clearly parking will be a factor - in the wet and muddy winter, paved parking will have a large advantage. Coffee is eternally a factor for me. 

Wood fires and outside heating could tip it just as much as good food and bike-friendly service. 

THE MOUNT

 The Mount Vineyard is not far from Seveonaks, near Shoreham in Kent (not to be confused with any other Shoreham in south-east England). Shoreham is one of those villages which is defying the general trend of closing pubs by having at least 3, all of which seem to be doing just fine. 

I headed to the Mount on a Saturday, which involved a lot of town riding (partly because the M25 is boring, and partly because the M25 was partly closed). I’m not a big fan of town riding, but as I’d been overly optimistic and put on my summer jacket, the lack of a 70 mph headwind wasn’t the worst thing. Traffic was pretty bad, though, as there seemed to be a plethora of roadworks between the A3 and the A21. 

The A21 is a pretty fun road, though, and the A224 has some nice moments as well. Then I was onto an unclassified single lane road winding up and down hills between some very leafy hedges, which have clearly been making the most of the late summer sun. The surface, however, was surprisingly good for the road type - I’m used to roads like this having potholes and muddy patches and general damage from farm vehicles for which they were not designed. 

The Mount’s driveway and parking are, of course, gravel. But shallow gravel, which is much easier on the bike than the deep, grip-less stuff. Leaving was an experience. They were having a busy day, so had instituted a one-way system, which included leaving via a field. 

For field, read: dodge the ruts and mud-slicks and people walking their dogs. 

The setting is beautiful, the shop is well-stocked and very friendly and the coffee shop was shut. The restaurant, however, was open and served very good coffee. The menu isn’t the most varied, being largely pizza and salad, but I have no problems with a limited menu if a place does it as well as The Mount did. 

DENBIES

 I’ve been going to Denbies for years. Adding it to this summer’s collection of vineyards feels almost like cheating, but given that I’m still healing from the bicycle accident, I wanted a shorter, more familiar run than any of the Kent or Hampshire options. Denbies is a fairly straight and easy run down the A24, corrugated roads and tar banding notwithstanding.

Denbies is very well geared towards visitors, although I suggest parking closer to the building, where it’s paved, rather than on the openwork bricks further away - particularly if it’s been raining, as side-stands and mud are not a great combination at the best of times. The bricks are openwork enough that this is a consideration. 

Denbies is not far from Box Hill and Ryka’s, but has infinitely better coffee than Ryka’s. This isn’t all that startling an achievement: Ryka’s serves instant. As I am an unabashed coffee snob, I don’t do instant.

The visitor centre is just that - containing a gift shop, event space and more than one option for coffee. They also tend to do an interesting line in cakes, if, like me, you get there in between actual meal times

JUMP

Recently, I had a bicycle accident involving wet road paint, a downhill, the mechanics of braking and grip, and smooth concrete. This did damage to both knees, both shoulders, wrists and elbows. It took over a week before I had sufficient mobility even to contemplate riding the motorbike again. 

Let’s be clear - I don’t try to save a sliding bike of any kind if I’m not absolutely sure I can. I don’t filter through gaps I’m not instantly sure are wide enough. The first rule of filtering: if you have to think about whether you’ll fit, you won’t. 

Sliding or skidding vehicles are similar - if you’re not bone-deep, instinctively sure you can save it, you can’t. So just jump. This advice came to me from a surgeon who had to repair the damage caused by a biker not jumping. Hit the kill switch if you can, but jump. 

Having jumped, I got off with soft tissue damage. Yes, it takes a long time to heal, but at least I can go riding unencumbered by casts and slings and doctor's orders. 

A gentle run on familiar roads, nothing too twisty or complex until I am not on three doses of anti-inflammatory gel a day, and no longer have bruises which object to the lightest impact of gravel bits or insects. 

I shall resume my tour of vineyards soon. I really hope.