Saturday : Web page shows good meteo conditions for the early morning Sunday : T - 17hours and counting..
Objective: Breakfast by the sea.
Usual RV.
Call up messages sent to Sunrise Squadron Conspirators, 0630 briefing.
0530 alarm call...Jeeez!
At that time of the morning it takes a while to work out whether it's grey or just early and dark.
It takes the same amount of time to work out whether the grey is just how you feel... until you realise that the moon is crisp and sharp in outline and one of the squadron would already be on the road to maintain his reputation as the earliest of sunrisers. Any possible thought of a 'no show' would be just plain rude by the rest of us and the previous evening's messages of signing in for the job is a gentleman's word and that.
Coffee and a banana suffice before the semi's in suburbia echo to the start up alarm call of a X-flow stuffing the cold air through the webbers. (Some would consider that a good way to be brought into the day, I suspect the numbers are few.)
I'm still amazed at how many people are up and about at this time of the morning. Cyclists wobble as you pass, the roads usually their's alone at this time? Horses in their boxes try to turn their heads to catch a look at you chuntering at the lights waiting for green : are they coming back from a night ride? Do horses get tired if they're up this early, did it have a banana and coffee?
Up, onto the Hog's Back (once the most dangerous road in Europe), but today just a straight road to Farnham and high enough to give a good view and to catch the sun coming up in the rearview... and a Fiesta doing 80. There's a long blat to come, she can have this one, hope her friend can hear what she's saying at the other end of the phone line.
RV: and the flight today is 3 X-flows and a Superlight lookie like. It's a 'Stealth 7', carbon that's gone nicely matt (low radar signature), polished ally and with such a quiet 'K' engine we can use him to scout for wildlife. Or he can take up the rear so we don't run into the coolant slipstream when the head gasket goes!!
Destination Hayling then, there's a good breakfast to be had and the cafe opens in an hour! It helps to have an objective and a time constraint, so the route was briefed in order to allow us to push the envelope a bit so as to not be later than when we get there.
Surrey was despatched fairly promptly, as was any semblance of a cruise to the coast. Hampshire gave us the long shadows and long corners of the Lasham curves and then the compass swung south along the classic Meon Valley in an unbroken song of on-cam energy through well sighted and rolling countryside. 25 mins in and the temperatures are rising both on board and out there, tyres are better now and each of us has found the groove.
The semi hypnotic state of concentration in doing this driving thing has got to be good for you...nothing else is going on other than 'right now', there's no tomorrow or yesterday , just the turn in , power on, change up and the cool clean air of that moment. Unless you're in the Stealth 7, at the back behind 3 X-flows, then it's not such clean air! (Sorry Ian)
A panda car passes the other way, apparently he waved by the time the third 7 skimmed by.
The trance momentarily broken to review the speedo.
In full flight we pass a few bikers coming the otherway , always a good indication of a decent road ahead, occasionally they wave ... probably in shared sympathy of being up so early.
But the next reverie is broken by the familiar front outline of low nose, high lights and exposed wheels of a Caterham coming north, this soon turns into a chain of low noses, high lights and exposed wheels of at least a dozen 7's ! A flurry of main beam, horn and hand waving ensues... probably in shared sympathy of being up so early.
This opposite travelling blat was later to be identified as the Solent 7's doing their thing and making money for charity at the same time!
And so to breakfast , Delia's Cafe: he's a bloke, but his food is tasty and safe.Hayling offers little other than seascape and sustenance before a new route home. We found a spot to get the 7's on the beach, not the most natural of environments for them, but a photo opportunity non the less with art direction by Bob Speilbergcombe.
Short of a 'dead end sat nav moment', the return blat established some great roads for permanent record and inclusion in the pre-breakfast part of future blats.
Any time beyond 8 am sees the cyclist and eyeing horse numbers reach a level that has the formation split and off cam, and a certain wind down and 'head for the lines' objective creeps into the conscience. Slowly there is a yesterday and a tomorrow, the grass needs cutting and someone needs to go to Sainsbury's... but there's another 30 miles still to go, and blatting, when shared, is not entirely selfish surely?
The Blatgland is happy, but do horses eat bananas?
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