TWO FAT CYCLISTS

Saturday, March 17, 2012

After last nights gig we make plans on the way back to Pat and Wendy's for an early start for Andy and I. We agree a 7.30 breakfast and that we start to cycle by 8.30 and leave our support behind for an hour.

As it happens the fantastic hospitality keeps us at the breakfast table a little longer than planned and we get off at just after 9am. Prior to leaving there's an impromptu jam with host, Pat. Out come various guitars and Lyndon quietly belts out 'Treat Her Right' while Phillip tickles the drums and Andy acoustically plays the ukelele in his pyjamas.

It's a little colder this morning and overcast but not so bad. There are some long steady climbs out of Chatham through Spencer's Town. At the top of the climb it starts to rain hard and the temperature feels like its plummeting. Having left Chatham with no gloves and only lightweight jackets we are soon soaked to the skin and freezing especially on the downhills. By the time we hit the 10 mile mark at Austerlitz I am in bits and have ice cream headache, my teeth are chattering and I cannot concentrate on the road. I tell the big man that I have to stop. We pull over and try again after a minute but the cold returns immediately.

We dive into an old wooden post office and the kind ladies there let us warm near a heater. There is no phone signal and we keep an eye out for the support vehicle. We've been out over an hour and haven't seen them.

Another 20 mins passes and still no sign. By now the big man is suffering as well.

We have cycled up and down the road trying to get mobile signal but have to go back to the post office and ask Suann to telephone our hosts from last night in case F troop are still there....they are.... Chatting and finishing off the bacon and pancakes... Andy explains to Gethin where we are.."you haven't got far have you" he says. It's freezing and we've climbed nearly 1000ft.

A Doctor comes in and asks us if we are having any hallucinations and diagnoses mild hypothermia.

When the support eventually arrive BFGUL gets out of the van and comments "bit chilly isn't it"!

We get into the van change into dry clothes and get some food and a coffee. Andy is so cold that he cannot hold his bowl of cereals and pours milk all over himself. Gethin has to dry him off with a copy of the Wall Street Journal including a quick dab around the 'man fruit'.

We do a few miles in the van and then cycle into Greenwich but not before missing our turning and doing an extra 8 miles into NY. We can't understand when we don't see the Connecticut state sign. We phone the support who reminiscent of the Tawawa incident declares that they are 'at Leslie's. Well we are not I explain and try to tell him where we are. ' you should have taken the 433 he repeats'. "shut up and listen to me explaining where we are" I say I the nicest possible way trying to avoid being mowed down on the main highway into NY.

He then suggests that we may want to cycle back up the 7 miles of hill to the turn. ' get in the van or car or whatever and get down here PLEASE' and I hang up.

The mono brow and Leslie turn up and give us a lift back to the 433 and we then cycle the last few miles through Connecticut and on to our welcoming party on Riversville Rd.

We're grateful to get to our end destination and get a shower and have great food and drink and a chat up with Les.

Tomorrow we're off into NY city to meet up with a number of expats and glitterati from Cymru for 'The Match' and a sing song hopefully with Bryn Terfel. Let's hope he can compete with The mighty larynx that is BFGUL....

Mae bys Meri-Ann wedi brifo,
A Dafydd y gwas ddim yn iach.
Mae'r baban yn y crud yn crio,
A'r gath wedi sgramo Joni bach.
Sosban fach yn berwi ar y tân,
Sosban fawr yn berwi ar y llawr,
A'r gath wedi sgramo Joni bach.
Dai bach y sowldiwr,
Dai bach y sowldiwr,
Dai bach y sowldiwr,
A gwt ei grys e mas.

Look out.........

Friday, March 16, 2012

Thursday 15th March (Cycle Day 5)

After a night of homo erotic karaoke, catfish and ribs at Mo Mo's BBQ in Harrisburg which, BFGUL thinks is the murder capital of the States having watched the television news at the hotel we had an early start again. Up at 6am and out of the hotel before 7am and into the city traffic.

Chimp Boy is at the wheel and we're heading north for a while before cycling to Chatham this evening where we will meet our host Pat Barnett-Mulligan, his wife Wendy and their friend Tom (pub landlord) and play an acoustic set (with accompanying screaming Strat and harp) at The Peint O Cwrw. Let's hope they're into it and we put on a decent show.

We have a hard but great day cycling into and through NY State around the East Delaware reservoir (Pepacton). A massive body of water that feeds NY. There are some climbs as we are in the Catskill Mountains and even on the decents we have to pedal hard because our old friend the headwind is back. We do a twenty miler then move to tens for the rest of the day.

Lyndon says to me before one leg, "it's OK last day today!" but it's not we have more to come tomorrow.

Our last leg is from Hudson into Chatham and Teddy and I take a wrong turn in part due to our sketchy sat nav (thanks again Chris and Noelle) which took us down a dead end in a less than salubrious part of town. Turn around, turn around is the call and we make a hasty retreat.

We have a tough 17 miles into Chatham of climbs and small decents and are truly grateful to find the Peint O Cwrw and meet Tom the owner and Jim the barman and some locals for a swift cider before cycling back out of town to go meet our hosts. We also get a $200 dollar donation from Tom and the offer of free food and drink this evening...does it get any better.

We all get a much needed lovely hot shower and a bed each for the night. Now it's off to the bar to entertain and eat. Let's hope it's a good one and there are less male dancers around this evening compared to last nights outing......

Update 23.30hrs

BFGUL takes Chatham By Storm - Anglo / American relation suffer in the process

We arrive at the Peint O Cwrw at 7.45 and meet and greet everyone. BFGUL is clearly fired up for the evenings performance. Like a prizefighter he is bouncing on tip toes ready for action at the sound of the bell.

He's early into a cider and demanding to be plugged in and have stands, mic's, lyrics etc set up to his liking and then wandering off to bask in the affection and friendship of all around who are soon to be engulfed in his power vocals.

We open with a half dozen numbers and the maestro has to reign himself in but you can see he's straining at the leash. Fellow musos come into the venue bearing percussion, recorders, harmonicas and our host Pat with his Dobro.

BFGUL floats like a butterfly between groups directing proceedings loosely and then disapearing into the crowd leaving others to actually sort things out.

We play numbers with all that arrive and then the BIG moment arrives......DELILAH.

The strat is laid down, it's magic and work done for the evening, now its time for the vocal chords to man up and fulfil their destiny.

Within the first 10 bars of the song, the Pencoed Warbler has taken his mic and stand in hand a' la Rod Stewart and is doing press ups against the bar. He's then moved across in front of both the big man and I and is exercising his larynx to the max. All that was missing was the whipping off of a pair of velcro'd together trousers to reveal leopard skin briefs. If he had I don't think anyone would have been surprised. In BFGUL world this was Wembley...

At the end of the gig it turned slightly sour with accusations of missing plectrums and mic leads with compulsory searches of everyone's bags that were leaving. " I can't play NY without a mic lead" he was heard to repeat over and over.

Lead located, tantrum reduced to manageable and we head back to Pat and Wendy's where we exchange gifts and count at least $200 in further donations in addition to what Tom had earlier given.

A great night in a great town with great people.

Nos da

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Harrisburg, Pennsylvania

Momo's BBQ Bar, Harrisburg, Penn

Too late to get to the proposed open mic night, the boys decide to hit the Karaoke.

Columbus, Ohio

Columbus Ohio

14th March 2012 Chicago - New York (Day 4 in the saddle)

We wake early and BFGUL advises that he's not going to overdo it at the breakfast counter this morning as he's still digesting his Hoaggie and the half of my family size calzone or (Joe Calzagi in a pasty as its referred to). He comes back to the table with 6 egg mini omelettes and a mountain of sausage patties all dripping in a mix of ketchup and yellow mustard so as to provide a gravy of sorts. He piles through it at pace in between hasty phone calls back to his agent in Pencoed who's Birthday it is.

We are all ready to go by 6.30am leaving Pittsburgh in the RV to get to some quieter roads.

Teddy and I are on our bikes and at first it feels a bit chilly particularly on the decent's. The joy of downhill riding is all too soon forgotten and the first long slow climb of the day begins. During the first leg near a town called Portage I call the support team to advise them on directions. I get a load of yeahh, yeahh, yeahhs from Munchkin Mono Brow Jones. After 10 or so hot climbing miles up towards the crest of the Great Eastern Continental Divide Teddy is asking "where are the boys then", then the mobile in my jersey starts ringing. "Uhhuhhh, uhhhhuhh we've taken a wrong turn but we think we're on the right road now and we'll come find you".

We take a break and then it's back on it. It's sweltering but we have a downhill section and then more hills... We're both in pain and suffering.

We climb through some hillbilly areas with some real oddballs looking on at us and me wearing a pink TFC jersey. The big man try's to read a sign in a window of a shack but can only read the first part which says TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT. "what does the second part say he asks". "SURVIVORS WILL BE SODOMISED" I Reply. I then add that I have visions of F troop getting in to trouble in a place like this that we passed through earlier and the pair of them having to reason their way out of a situation with BFGUL nervously hrrggh, hrrgghing and avoiding all eye contact and NIK NAK whittering on nonsensical yeah yeah yeah's to some big nasty mountain dude and his hound which has him wetting himself nearly while trying to cycle up a killer hill.

We do another few 10 mile legs and meet shaggy and scooby in the time machine near an old property in New Grenada where we have 10 mins break and take some photos.

We're back on again and our second climb of the day. The name of the road should have been an early warning "Broad Top Mountain Rd". It was hell.

We stopped for some food at a gas station and did another couple of legs towards Gettysburg but not before BFGUL decided we should call Aunty Fran and do an impromptu 4 part harmonising acapella Happy Birthday on load speaker. Not sure again what the locals made of us but at least Lyndon refrained from giving it the jazz hands and a big finish.

We then hit a busy road and had to jump into the van for a few miles. Uncle Lyndon was at the helm and seemed to have morphed in to Mr Sulu from Star Trek and seemed to insist on driving our lumbering wobbling RV at warp speed through all the twisty turns he could find, it was truly terrifying.

We cycled into Gettysburg to the area and memorial where the first artillery was fired from it was quite spectacular.

Then it was onto Harrisburg for the night. We followed the un-trustworthy Sat Nav that Chris had given to us. The Geth had programmed it and we followed all the way into another 'hod'. What appeared to be 'business ladies' hanging on street corners and more dodgy fellas looking at us in our still shinny RV with smiley kids on the side...no sign of any comfort inns. We pulled over and tried ringing but no luck, we were starting to sweat...

We decided to drive back pass the ladies and fellas and ask at somewhere safe. We found a cop and he gave us some directions which thankfully got us home safely.

Not sure what we're doing for food but there's no pool or jacuzzi so it's queue time for the shower and listen to the various grunts and groans from behind the door while you wait your turn.