Folding cycling shorts and the Undercliff

 

Today I went for my first bike ride as an 'Overner'. The family cough and moving house had curtailed my two-wheel activities, generally to the relief of those chez Griffiths who are i/c washing and drying clothes (Mrs. Griffiths - but fear not, I put the bins out and write blogs). Cycling clothes can be a terrible bore to wash, dry and fold. 

Now Mrs. Griffiths is very keen on folding. If we're out and about and she sees something unfolded, she will start to sweat, and if possible to do discreetly, will fold whatever it is. Cycling shorts are padded and this makes folding them all but impossible, even to a skilled folderer such as the aforementioned Mrs. G. They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results. Each time Mrs. G tries to fold a pair of cycling shorts she looks as pained and surprised as a Tory MP losing a by-election and probably writes something on Facebook about it (making a change form the cat videos which are the staple diet of Mrs. G's feed on that platform). Basically the padding, which is kind of like a nappy, gets in the way; in short, cycling shorts are unfoldable. It's a source of exasperation for her but as I say this frustration has been put on the back-burner during the few weeks I've been off the bike. 

Actually many things about my cycling hobby have exasperated Mrs. Griffiths over the years, from parading my weedy body about the house in bibshorts (Google 'bibshorts') to insisting on cycling to or from venues while she takes the car complete with annoying babies/toddlers/teenagers. These days she's a little more sanguine, knowing she'll at least be the guardian of the remote control and can enjoy her idol Ben Shepherd and 'Tipping Point' while I'm out - though I wouldn't say she's supportive. If I return from some kind of endurance ride - such as riding a double century back from Weymouth - she's not impressed, instead asking me to complete some mundane household chore. If I try and suggest I'm in any way tired, she'll retort that it's a hobby and I don't have to do it. That's love for you!

For my first ride as a Ventnorian I decided to cycle to Niton on the lower, Undercliff Road and come back via Whitwell on the higher road. The former suffered a landslip in 2014 (pictured above) and since then has been closed as a thoroughfare to vehicles - but not to pedestrians and bikes.

I love the south of the Island; for a start I'd rather gaze romantically out over endless sea than look perfunctorily back at Portsmouth; the former is aspirational and gives one hope and optimism, even on a grey December day; the latter is, well, Portsmouth. In particular I adore the section between Ventnor and Niton, which takes in the graceful village of St. Lawrence. The houses in Ventnor are eclectic - some Victorian, some Georgian, and some with their wooden balconies reminiscent of southern America. The Undercliff section is somewhat Mediterranean both in terms of the houses and the palm trees borne of the microclimate; the Botanic Gardens are on this route. Glimpses of the sparkling sea between trees and houses are just amazing and cycling along this divine road is both uplifting and Utopian.

The other reason I love this route is because it's so quiet; half a mile or so west of St. Lawrence it narrows into a footpath for a couple of hundred yards, before resuming as a road the Niton side. So it's access only unless you're on two wheels or two feet; it's my second favourite road on the Island (we'll get to my first, the Military Road out to Freshwater.) The 2014 landslip and lack of action by the powers that be has been devastating for the handful of houses and their residents affected, and for St. Lawrence generally, but OMG it makes for a fantastic cycling experience. In the summer, I overtook a gentleman riding along pulling his two children in some kind of trailer, on their way to Niton Primary School; on any other road he'd have been dancing with the traffic and on Valium by half term.

On the Niton side of the landslip lies the dramatic St. Catherine's Point and Lighthouse, the southernmost tip of the Island. The brilliant white lighthouse is elegantly silhouetted against the backdrop of the sea, its height dwarfing the service buildings at its base. St. Catherine is big around here; she's given her name to a church, a school and a point! And a lighthouse. She was obviously a busy lady, and I'll no doubt post about her endeavours soon. Close to the lighthouse lies the Buddle Inn, another pub I'm partial to, sadly closed til March for refurbishments. All this is exquisite, and then you end up in Niton which is definitely a place we feel we could live - not least because it's the gateway to the aforementioned Military Road and rural, serene, West Wight.

The main reason I chose this route to break my December cycling duck was aesthetic, but additionally it's a less hilly option. Ventnor is the hilliest place I've ever cycled. If I commute to work I'll be cycling uphill for a mile first - not great for someone who is very much not a morning person. As an avid bike rider I'll be meeting these hills all too often and be referencing my prosaic, tedious efforts from time to time here; the Isle of Wight is my favourite place to cycle, and guess what - now I live here! 

I've a feeling the ubiquitous St. Catherine would have been able to fold a pair of cycling shorts with nonchalant ease; in the meantime I'll have to be content with another saint's efforts closer to home!