Cleaning the bladder from a hydration back pack is a pain, no bones about it. Getting it dry so it stays non-funky and fresh for the next use now thats hard, especially in a country with not a lot of sunshine.

So the solution and tip for this week is wash the bladder well then throw it in the freezer. No germs can grow in there and it wont start smelling. They thaw in seconds once you run them under the tap as well. Easy.

Remember boil your bidons.

Ride safe.

Well for the first day this I year I got to roll the arm warmers down and work on my ‘cyclist tan‘ on my commute home.  After a winter of ice, injury and illness curtailing my riding the warm sun was very welcome. Resting at home now with a nice Cote de Rhone it’s only my legs that are burning though as it was not that sunny and my ride was not entirely what I had planned.

As daylight savings started last weekend I had a chance to extend my commute what with the extra sunlight available so after pouring over the OS map I decided on a few interesting looking country lanes to take me away from traffic and create a nice circuit home, it’s a shame I didn’t take more notice of the contour lines when I was planning the route. The first couple of miles from work is all gentle downhill, so lots of enthusiastic cranking in the big ring and I’m well on my way and really getting into the ride. After two miles of my normal commute I turn off up the first interesting lane, slightly up hill but the legs are feeling good. so crack on in my big gear. I wind round the lanes through the hedge rows then  cut down the main road briefly to link to the next lane. The road rolling along nicely comes out from between the hedge-rows and opens out to freshly sprouted green fields. My heart fills with the joy of spring and I’m only a sunflower field from a Tour de France stage in the south of France. Ahem.. apart from the grey strip of the M25 on the near horizon. With my imaginary peloton around me I romp along the ridge-line of hills to the bridge that takes me across the M25 and then Woo..hurtling down a 14% grade hill to West Hyde a pretty village on the Grand Union Canal. Now I live not far from an other section of this canal and if I’d been thinking a bit more lateral, or horizontal even, I would have taken the nice flat tow path home. But no, I trickled with the traffic through the village and tight lanes to the other side were, what went down went back up. The road kicked up again (at 14%) of course so I finally succumbed and dropped into the little ring and ground my way up the hill. And it was a long grind up the hill, which I can still feel now in my throbbing thighs. The agony was releaved by some fantastic scenery, which was so great i just had to stop half way up the hill and absorb (the fact my heart was pumping through my chest had nothing to do with the break at all).

I made the hill and Harefield with some of my dignity and some energy left (it was too soon to feel the burn). Passing throught Harefield the road ducks into the woods again as it heads east. Hustling along I came to an other top gear descent which I nailed with pleasure…all though in the back of my mind as always when descending is Beloki’s crash on the  Cote de La Rochette. My abiding memory is of Beloki lying on the road beside his broken bike screaming and sobbing in agony from his multiple fractures his face screwed up in pain. With that in mind I’m in the drops, banging down the hill wondering if the 3 series sucking my wheel is going to try and over take me on the blind corner ahead, which as it opens up reveals a nice large shiny recessed manhole cover in the middle of the corner. Oh Fu.. no time to swear or brake, I’m going too fast to avoid the hazard by tightening my line through the corner, so with heart in mouth I rattle over the thankfully dry manhole cover (wet I would skidded of into the the gully and been fabricating climbing ropes from inner tubes). Without even time to catch my breath or drop into the little ring the road has kicked up again and I’m trying to grind up the steep hill in too high a gear while the BMW takes the opportunity to blast past me and away. Heart back in my chest I shift down and potter up the hill like granny. A few more un-eventfull rolling hills and I’m enjoying the last long descent to home. All in all a great ride and as good a commute as you could get and quite fun despite the hills and I didn’t even get on to the horse blocking the cycle-path near my house (the rider had to reverse out the alley in the end as the horse did not want to go forward).

Now hopping my jelly legs will recover tonight and I can do it all again tomorrow….different route maybe though.