The club’s cycle workshop at Crofters focused on gear ratios, derailleurs and upgrade choices, with questions and advice flowing from all sides. The homely setting and 25p entry with refreshments gave the evening a friendly, practical feel.

A sunny ride to North Bovey became a tale of mishaps and mud: chains and punctures slowed progress and a flooded exit track tested nerve. Paul Hamlyn-White fell into the icy ford, and later the Newton group watched a helicopter rescue at Haytor—yet the Wrey valley still looked superb.

With a grim forecast, the Bantham Sands plan was dropped for a shorter lane loop and lunch at Gidley Bridge, reaching Crofters just as the rain hit. Dayle, not Paul, ended up with the wet feet, and Michael capped the day by paying £1 to park in Totnes—only to find Sundays were free.

A cosy evening at the Lakeman home in Paignton, with Trivial Pursuit the main draw and refreshments on hand, made for a simple, much‑enjoyed club social.

A sunny start soon turned into a battle with winter on Dartmoor: headwinds to snowy Haytor and later gusts so fierce riders were blown over above Shallowford. A stop at Widecombe’s Green Restaurant added surreal relief: one teapot shared between four and a dog being fed at the table.

Buffeted by icy wind on Babbacombe Downs, then rain, the afternoon became a test of grit, lightened by a short off‑road loop before we cut back through Watcombe and Barton. Ken impressed all, charging up the climbs with young Paul in the trailer; earlier, Jenny turned back with a bad back.

Optimism about reaching Ponsworthy Splash met its limit at Leusdon Common, where fading light forced a split return—half via Dr Blackall’s Drive, the rest down Poundsgate. A restorative stop at Leusdon Lodge and a broken rear axle added drama, yet we were home before dark.

We watched Innerspace, the far-fetched romp where a test pilot is miniaturised and accidentally injected into a hypochondriac shop assistant, then must outwit villains to get out again; slightly unbelievable but entertaining nevertheless. Poor Alan was unwell, so the evening was less fun for him.

Under dark clouds we ground our way towards Ashcombe Tower, only to fail to find it, picnic in the woods and battle a strengthening headwind home. The day’s comic thread was John: falling into a ford at Luton, then later vanishing into the biggest mud pool on the Beaston track.

Our final social of the season gathered at Crofters for board games; four settled to Risk, where Simon was decisively beaten, to general amusement. With that, Friday evening rides now take over for the spring and summer.

Nothing new about the route, but glorious sunshine made our ride to Slapton Sands feel special. We spent two unhurried hours on the beach, then lingered in and around the Sea Shanty restaurant at Torcross.