In a world where travel is restricted, where better to go on Swiss National Day than Little Switzerland, and what better than to take with you a Swiss lady, Sabina. On Saturday while others pedalled along the flat, a group of us with energy to burn left Nonsuch Park to head for the hills. Starting at two, you have to take the shortest route, so we went through Ewell, behind Sainsbury’s at Epsom, and up the hill behind Epsom Hospital. At Ashtead, RobnRuth on the tandem opted for the direct route down the A24 because of the barriers on Otway lane, but the rest of us crossed the M25 on the footbridge near St John’s College and skirted Leatherhead before going down the A24 cycle path and turning east at Mickleham.
Ere long we were in the mountains, lustily singing Valderi, valdera as we glided effortlessly up Juniper Hill, the sounds of cow bells and mountain horns echoing across the valleys like Moses’ Triumph, the draught white wine in the taverns forming a star shape on its surface as the jolly landlord served it. Over to our right the snow-capped peak of Box Hill, above us fluffy white clouds in an azure sky; everywhere we passed there were chaps in lederhosen with feathers in their hats; girls in dirndls peeked from behind impeccably clean lace curtains in cute gabled cottages before returning to the Emmental churns in their squeaky clean barns.
Actually we got pretty strung out, which was to be expected with Jeff enjoying (did I say enjoying?) his first trip outside the house after three months of shielding and Steve W, as ever, itching to sail away and do something more challenging. We all gathered, as arranged, at the green at the top; I counted, I swear I did, six bikes, twelve wheels but when we turned off the Dorking Road up Deans Lane, my back marker, who while the disciplinary case is pending must remain nameless, was riding behind me and we had lost Bernard off the back.
I say lost, but when Steve kindly retraced his steps we did not have to call out the St Bernards or even the Mountain Rescue; Bernard had just caught wind of the words golf course and opted to cycle in to one! Re-united, there were six of us for coffee at Walton on the Hill. But we arrived on the dot of four and the cafe was closing. Call me a complainer if you will, but either small businesses are struggling or they are not; the refusal to serve some ravenous hill-climbers six drinks, a few ice creams and Swiss buns, not to mention Toblerone was made good by the Italian Cafe on the corner opposite the pond, who were only too happy to seat us outside and oblige.
From there we made our separate ways, or we did once I had guided Sabrina and Bernard over the switchback on Epsom Lane North to Tattenham Corner, from where they knew their way. A good, hearty ride and lovely to welcome back Jeff.
Report by Paul
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