Rule number one: you don’t talk about Talk Club.
Today’s meeting of Talk Club oddly coincided with the OGIL ride. Although eight of us gathered at the other place, nobody mentioned the true reason for being there, obviously mindful of rule number one. The suggestion of Porthtowan as a destination by our Illustrious Leader was accepted without protest or even discussion, despite the fact that the Sunday run had almost gone there just a few days before.
Having already successfully navigated the closed road from the Argal crossroads without anyone falling down a hole, we were not to be deterred by the cluster of signs and cones declaring that the road up to Halvasso was also closed, so off we tootled. Encouraged by the lack of actual rain, we ploughed through the wet and detritus left behind by last night’s deluge to Stithians and on to Gwennap and Blackwater. Skirting Mount Hawke we gained the coast road and hurtled down into Porthtowan, ensconcing ourselves in the Beach Cafe.
Also ensconced was a large group of ladies who, it transpired, were celebrating the birthday of one of their number. When they struck up ‘Happy Birthday’ we were more than happy to contribute our TB to their SA to make up a full choir (there being no riders of the female persuasion amongst our number today). I have to confess the result sounded quite good, despite the ladies having to solo the part when it got to the celebrant’s name, for obvious reasons. Unfortunately, singing together was the only bit of communion that took place between the two groups. In any case, we were outnumbered.
After a meagre hour’s rest we remounted and made our way up the valley to Wheal Rose and then Scorrier, following our usual route home from these parts. When we paused at the top of Mount Ambrose, the true purpose of the gathering became apparent when it became almost impossible to disrupt the discussions that had started with calls of ‘Off we go’ or some such. Eventually we got going, only for more chit chat at the Lanner Hill turn and then a full scale debate at the junction at the top of the hill that proved particularly resistant to efforts to get the group moving again. It was only the issuing of thinly veiled threats that got us going again, and our Illustrious Leader ensured that we did not dare stop again until we got to Penhalvean where we were faced with the same awful choice as always – left to Stithians or straight on to Carnmenellis. Thankfully it would seem that the group was all talked out, and the decision to carry straight on was easy. We took the usual route to Herniss and then Halvasso. We kept an eye out in case we spotted Jerry still pedalling around the Argal reservoir like a Japanese soldier who doesn’t realise the war has ended, but it turns out he did find his way back on Sunday after clocking up an impressive mileage.
An entertaining ride, albeit with almost as much stopped time as riding time; the only downside is that several members presumably arrived home with dry mouths and sore throats from all that talking.
About 67km for me but 35m short of a kilometre of vertical ascent.