When I told people I was heading to London for a semester, the response was invariably enthusiastic, except for one dour soul who must have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed that morning. “Oh, the weather there is awful!” this acquaintance said during a brief exchange on the bus towards Pearl Street. I probably had a momentary deer-in-the-headlights look on my face, before I could respond. The truth of the matter is that the weather has been fantastic. Yes, I am talking about autumn in England. It has rained very little since I arrived in mid-August and the temperature has been warm instead of hot turning to mild instead of cold, as compared to home. I’m not so delusional to think that this would last until mid-December and so have tried to enjoy it as much as possible.

That being said, when I checked the forecast last night to see that it was scheduled to rain much of the upcoming week, I figured it was worth dragging my carcass out of bed to join the 10am Epping Forrest ride this morning. I had not been in the forest for some time and I’ve been told that once the weather gets wet, the trails become too muddy to ride and that’s it for the winter. That this might be my last chance to carve through the wooded singletrack, it could not be missed.

This is all well and good, but I had just returned from another soirée in the Chiltern Hills with Ray and company. Although the pace was reasonable, with the usual history lesson stops along the way, it was still 3:35 in the saddle, plus my half hour ride home through city; train station to flat. Four hours of riding after not riding at all for two weeks and a similar interval prior to that is enough to wear a girl out. It was also COLD up in Chorleywood! Ray and I set off from Jean’s at 8:45 Friday morning surrounded by an ample amount of frost on the ground and our breath adding to the misty morning. (pictures to follow later) Thank goodness for Margaret’s excellent pre-ride meal Thursday night or I may have not had the energy to burn to stay warm and keep up with Ray! By the time we finished an excellent lunch of potato-leek-Stilton soup at the Full Moon pub and said our good-byes to the rest of the gang for a brisk tempo home, it had warmed up considerably, but still was not balmy. We had the usual post-ride tea and cakes with Jean (much better than any post-ride recovery drink, by the way) and even a quick chat via Skype with Peter before I caught the (correct…) train back to the city.

--- frost on the lawn of Chenies Manor ---

--- great view from Whiteleaf Barrow ---

--- the gang at the pub, Martin joined us for lunch and role as "team manager" ---

--- cool headstone at the graveyard at Cholesbury Ring ---

After yesterday’s slight under-dressing, I bundled up for the half hour spin to South Woodford to meet the Epping Forrest group. Since my last time out, a somewhat painfully slow affair, the group had settled into a pattern of having a faster ride on Saturday and a no-drop ride on Sundays (according to the forum). Incidentally, the Saturday ride is referred to as “fast and furious”! A few other guys showed up besides Mick, the leader, so we had a nice group and set off for High Beech with a goal of an hour and a half to the lunch spot. Between this faster group and my marked decline in fitness since the last time I rode there, it was a well-matched group. The hills, which seemed barely existent when I first arrived here, have become much steeper and often a bit slick with fallen leaves, requiring a maximum effort in both energy and finesse to make it up. Nevertheless, I gave it my best and became referred to by one of the younger guys as his “motivation” – because I’m a girl and on a cyclocross bike. We had tea, sandwiches, and lots of laughs at the tea house at High Beech and set off again for a short loop around there, another cup of tea while one guy changed a stubborn flat tire, and then the hour long, slight downhill, heavenly winding singletrack back. So, if you are paying attention, that’s another four hour ride. As Roman Road turned into Bethnal Green Road, a slight drizzle fell from the clouds in the last light of the day – at a mere 4:15pm. Perfect timing in every sense of the phrase. After a hot shower, I mustered just enough energy to walk down to S & M (sausage and mash, you cheeky monkey!) for some of their English comfort food. “Eat yourself happy” proclaims the wait-staff’s t-shirts. Indeed.