saddling up and cake

so ok here we go, i've got the rain in my face, the sand in my teeth and endorphins pumping round my body. i'm living the poem that is cycling and, in the words of James Brown, i feel good.

i've been at it for a good five years so far. not counting a brief spell as an adolescent following which i was enticed from the true path by romance and alcohol. a little later in life i find my ability to cope with either severely reduced. separately they are tricky, while both together has become a complete no-no. hence my return to the iron steed as i tilt at the vanishing point of the future.

up until now cycling for me has been a private affair. however i must be weakening. consideration of a european sortie lead me to ask for help. i wrote to one of the local cycle clubs and forgot about it.

but i had set the wheels in motion. the cogs had begun to whir and i eventually got a text from martin. we met and chatted. i was given some lowdown, a little inspiration and an invitation to the local Cycle Touring Club's next meeting. 'there'll be a cake competition,' martin said, 'so at least you'll get a slice of that'.

cake competitions and cycling don't sit particularly comfortably in my consciousness. but was i listening right? perhaps this was cycling slang for some arcane initiation ceremony. what the heck, the curiosity was overwhelming. maybe i'd never be the same again but, caution to the wind, i had to go and check it out.

sitting near the door the first thing i noticed was the politics. put two people together and negotiation becomes essential. once you've got half a dozen you can almost spot emergent political parties. cyclists despite their wholesomeness and outdoorsy image are no different.

on this particular night the power struggle was over how rides were flagged up on the local website. although i had started to absorb a new understanding of english the details of the debate were not quite clear to an outsider like myself. the participants however knew exactly what they were tussling over.

and tussle they did, until one side obviously thought they'd won. personally i wasn't convinced that this was going to lead to a lasting peace. the other side looked as if he thought he'd won also. but, however illusory, once all had galloped past the decisive stage the rest of the agenda was swiftly dispatched. then came the cake competition.

up they got, these stalwart peddlers, and headed for the back of the room. 'oh dear,' i thought, 'here come the blindfolds and the cattle prods.' but no, they didn't. what actually emerged were ..... cakes.

it seems that once upon a time one of their number had brought a bara brith to a ride. this had inspired his fellow ciclistas to respond. the upshot was the cake competition.

there were eleven entries. and they weren't poncy little dust-bricks either. these were full on statement cakes none of which were ashamed of their calorie quotient or fat content. the mostly male contestants had gone for flamboyant in a big way. there were fruit cakes with a lot of dried fruit in them. then there were moister fruit cakes with a lot of fresh fruit in them. there were no carrot cakes - too obvious. there were chocolate cakes with double cream to spread and cakes that looked as if covered in custard. there yellow cakes, brown cakes and cakes sporting inch deep fluorescent icing.

in the midst of this cake heaven my obligation dawned. it was judge or be judged. a voting system was adopted and the tasting began. i quickly decided that as a guest i really should play an active roll in the event. fortified with a large cup of hot tea i set to with as much enthusiasm as i could muster. which was loads.

i conscientiously ploughed my way from one end of the table to the other. then, when i had narrowed down the field to the top three or four, i hit the track again and chose my two faves.

i was one of the last to cast my votes. then i finished off my tea.

who won? the club president as it happens. but he had baked good. in fact his cake had been one of my final choices. so i guess it was fair.

but i felt i had more than cake to chew on. this wasn't cycling as i understood it. i even mentioned to one of the few ladies present that i had bought my bike to lose weight. 'you've had that mate,' she said. which left me even more confused.

strangely though i find myself more drawn to a crew who can reconcile rugged outdoorsiness with the stuffing of their faces with cholesterol and carbohydrates on a more or less industrial scale. could this mindset be an example of pluralism in praxis to politicians the world over. maybe cyclists have the answer after all. i will explore further.