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NEWARK NOTES from the Secretary

March 2005

The North Wind Doth Blow

In fact it was a westerly wind that opened the year's cycling; no change there then. Following the potterings at the end of the holiday break, Newark section took a Saturday ride down the Vale of Belvoir, stopping at the same pub (the ‘Mucky Duck’ at Woolsthorpe) that Colin and I had visited the previous week. Comment was made that more cyclists had been visiting since the demise of Margaret's Café. I guess we have to stop somewhere, and this is one place cyclists can get a coffee if they don't fancy a pint. On the Sunday, it was Colin and myself again, riding to Sleaford to check out another ‘Rural Ride’, and having reason to curse that westerly!

That took us to the third weekend in January, and if you’ve been here before, you’ll know that means wassailing at Brandy Wharf. Last year, attendances were down over previous years, so I wondered if the festival was in decline. This year, the new management had put on more of a ‘do’ with morris dancers for our entertainment, and although it was nothing like previous years, there were certainly more people in the bar, including many familiar faces. Conversations confirmed what I had suspected, that certain of the ‘old school’ had stayed away, not liking the few changes made by the new management. Personally I couldn’t see much difference in the place, apart from an enlarged car park, and the beer I’d seen in the summer no longer seemed available (or perhaps I wasn’t looking properly).

Some enlivenment to what can be a bit of a slog back home was provided by my cassette’s lock ring coming undone and allowing the smaller cogs to come off the splines, resulting in some ‘interesting’ gear changing. I can’t see any reason why this should be as there’s no obvious turning moment on the lock ring. Has anyone else experienced this?

The following weekend saw a Saturday ride to the nature reserve at Whisby, while the Sunday ride was joined by Steve, normally a stalwart of the Saturday rides. He was treated to the delights of Rosie’s café at Saundby and a pub stop at Sturton, where we found it warm enough to eat our sandwiches outside. Or perhaps the large sound system being set up in the bar had something to do with it. Not sure if he was impressed as he’s kept to Saturdays since.

Chatting in the pub on Friday night (as one does..) chairman James suggested that Elmton, near Cresswell, would be a good destination for a Sunday ride, not that he was going to come out on a Sunday himself…. Looking at the map, I had to agree with him, so off we went. And he was right. We don’t get out in this direction often, partly because of the large number of small towns, but it was certainly an enjoyable day. A bit of a downer was the disappearance of one of my water bottles when we stopped at the café at Carburton, all the worse because the culprit was almost certainly another cyclist. (The local ne’er-do-wells, faced with a good selection of computers and LEDs, not to mention some pretty classy bikes, would hardly have nicked an old bottle, I think) From the last issue, I know that riders from other clubs read this; if it was you – if you’d come out without water you could have asked me and I’d gladly have given it to you. For strolling off with it anyway – nul points!

Into February, and the Saturday ride met up with John S. at Byard’s Leap, where Stuart pointed out the horse-shoes embedded in concrete outside. I’d not noticed them before; as I’m sure everyone but me knew, they’re connected with the local legend that gives the place it’s name.

It wasn’t until late February that the North wind did start to blow and, yes, some white-coloured precipitation resulted. It was this, I think, that kept the less foolhardy at home that Sunday, but having got all dressed up, I decided to go somewhere. I was treated to an excellent day’s ride to Dunholme, mostly in winter sunshine, with a few showers to remind me that it was still winter.

The next weekend, too, was still cold; the Saturday ride battled the wind and rain to Lincoln, but were then blown home again. On the Sunday, Colin and myself (again…) did something similar riding into the now easterly wind to Woodhall Spa, another ‘old favourite’ destination, but none the worse for that. And next weekend?…, well, hopefully the wind might drop.

Mike Graham

Page updated 14/03/05