with Mark Davison
Rykas, Box Hill, Mickleham
W HILE out on a spin in the glorious Surrey countryside the other afternoon, I decided to stop off for a cuppa and a bite to eat at the foot of Box Hill.
Warm spring sunshine was bathing the downs and woodlands and people were feeling upbeat after weeks of endless rain during the winter.
The last time I had been in the vicinity of Rykas – the well-known "bikers' café" was on Christmas Eve when floodwater from the River Mole had surged through the premises and turned the parkland gardens outside into a sea of muddy water.
Today could not have been more different to that dramatic scene.
Daffodils were nodding gently in the March breeze, a low sunshine was bursting through the bare trees and people were sitting outside eating burgers, relaxing as birds sang cheerily above them.
I took a seat at one of the picnic benches.
On the next table was a group of leather-clad bikers who had been out for a ride.
"We used to tear up to London. It was good fun," said one.
I wandered into the servery and saw that the café had been completely refurbished since my last visit inside a year or so ago.
The man behind the counter said: "We were flooded. We were closed for five weeks."
I commented how fresh and new the place looked and he thanked me for my favourable remarks.
I noticed that the large framed montage of photographs showing groups of customers over the years with their silver machines was missing. It had hung by the front door for years.
"Oh, we've still got it," said mine host. "It's just that we do not know where to put it yet."
I scoured the menu and couldn't decide.
"Oh, I'll have an egg and bacon burger, please".
I also selected a chocolate flapjack for afters, and a latte coffee.
"Do you still call out the number over the speakers?" I enquired.
"Yes we do," said the assistant.
I ambled back to my picnic table outside and sat and enjoyed the ambience.
There was a scent of freshly-mown grass.
The chap on the next table told his pal: "I've got 15 pairs and I've been flogging them for 20 quid a pair."
Above the muffled roar of the A24 traffic, the bird continued to sing merrily in the branches of the tree overhead.
I glanced towards the Burford Bridge Hotel, which was so badly flooded just before Christmas.
A huge restoration and renovation programme is under way by the Mercure hotel group but the venue will not be open until the start of September.
Waist-high water got into the hotel on Christmas Eve and on two occasions later in the winter, floods again inundated part of the hotel at the Tithe Barn Restaurant end.
It seemed hard to imagine how the weather was so clement.
Hardly a leaf moved and barely was there a could in the blue sky.
Suddenly, there was the loud revving of a bike starting up and a customer set off for home. I'm not sure why he had to make so much racket. As the bike disappeared from view as it merged into the late afternoon traffic, the revving could again be heard in the distance.
I tucked into the burger enthusiastically.
More bikes arrived during my visit but in smaller numbers. The riders on the next table got up to go home. An elderly rambler sauntered past. He had grey hair and a ruddy complexion and carried a small rucksack on his back. He was probably returning from a walk over Box Hill and had caught the sun.
A teenaged motorcyclist, looking a little bashful, also strolled past my table.
I munched on my delicious flapjack, savouring every bite.
I spotted in the distance a bouquet of flowers placed near the hedge by the A24 and came to the sad conclusion it must be marking the scene of a tragedy.
"Come on you two!" said a voice out of the blue. I looked up and saw the command was directed at two tired dogs. A middle-aged man was trying to get them to quicken their pace as they headed towards his motor car.
