You might think that having not ridden my bike for a couple of weeks, I would be full of good ideas for the OGIL ride report. However, I have to admit that I have no more new ideas than the motley lot who adorned your TV screens on Tuesday evening. Perhaps, unlike the aforementioned, I will have to stick to the facts.
There were more “I’m out” messages on the WhatsApp group than in an episode of Dragons Den, so I was surprised to see so many assembled at Union Corner this morning; seven in total, including new Falmouth resident, Paul. Over at the other place there were five more, not a bad turn out for what was promising to be a dull day. But the day turned out far from dull, with the sun breaking out by the time we got to Perranuthnoe, and if there weren’t new roads for Mr Garmin to chuckle over they were certainly rearranged nicely by Ian. Out to Black Rock, and a pleasurable ride down hill to Crowan before continuing on to Leedstown, Relubbas, Goldsithney and on to the Cabin. They stop serving off the breakfast menu at 11 but we were just in time. Though it was nice to sit in the sun there were no second coffees ordered and we were on our way back; to Goldsithney and Millpool, before turning off towards Ashton and the long swoop down into Porthleven, for ice cream. Then it was across the cobbles and out to Penrose, before Helston High Street, Muddy, not today, lanes, Hidden lanes, not today, and out on to the main road in three fours. I was in the middle group, just behind Keith as his rear tyre went bang. The others continued on their way as Andrew and myself hindered Keith in his repair job. A big hole in the inner tube but, according to Keith, no sign of anything protruding in the tyre. I unclipped my pump but Keith announced, “I’m a gas man”. The gasman then proceeded to dump about as much CO2 into the atmosphere as a FlyBe flight to London, with little in the tyre. “Have you used this before”, I asked. “Yes, and I seem to remember it was the same result”. I demonstrated my prowess with the pump and his tyre was firm and roadworthy. “Better not get another puncture” shouts Keith as we set off, about 20 yards before his rear tyre deflated again. At this point Andrew decoded that he needed to get home before supper and left us to cross the main road at about the most scariest point. It was then that Keith announced that he hadn’t got another tube and as he thought that mine would be too small, decided to call home for help. I too made my excuses and left and sped on in a hope that I would catch Andrew, if not the others. Alas it was not to be and I gingerly had to pass across the Argal crossroads on my own again. 51 miles for me. Dean (participants as shown in photo, plus Paul).