I took my carradice off my bike and put it in the ginnel thinking, I'd better not forget to pick that up - won't that be annoying.
I loaded my bike in the van, \TSK arrived with his and we struggled to get that one in then loaded the kit bags and set off up the hill.
As I drove up the road in the driving rain, I thought, "Shit, I forgot to pack my waterproof trousers". Still, I wasn't going to turn us back now, I'd just struggle through the day in my rain legs. The rain legs serve to keep the wet off thighs - the important bits and the bits that get the wettest in the rain. They do not keep the rain off the shins when riding through puddles, but I'd cope.
After 25 minutes of driving, I suddenly realised I had left my Carradice in the ginnel - as I predicted. It contained my rain legs, waterproof coat and my wallet and phone - not only everything I needed but also everything I did not want to leave in the alley way for the day, right next to the pavement. Without hesitation but with a lot of swearing, I turned back.
"Is this rain going to last all day?" I asked, using my error as a reason to seek my waterproof trousers whilst also trying to convince myself that more time driving in the rain now would equal less time riding in the rain later.
All I got in reply was "Yes," then a hopeful, "Do you want to sack this off?".
I thought about the four rides I've done so far, how lucky I have been with winter weather (The Dean excepted), the prospect of starting again and the prospect of finishing next winter. No, absolutely not.
Waterproof trousers and Carradice acquired, we headed back into the driving rain turning to sleet and then snow the further we went over the Snake pass. Happily at least we wouldn't be riding in that down in Cheshire!
We drove a lap of Handforth to park the car and as we did the rain came to a dignified stop. We dressed then headed over to the petrol station to start our ride from its designated start point.
To compliment my food stash I bought the obligatory salty crisp-based snack, opting for "Fish n Chips" as a small package to stuff in my bag for later. No point in double-bagging my receipts and buying my emergency mars bar here - I could use that particular token later. We both used the facilities and TSK got his receipt in the form of flapjacks.
As an excellent start, I was almost reversed into by a car as I fiddled with my Garmin then, Garmin still loading, proceeded to turn completely the wrong way.
We finally started our ride around 5 minutes after the clock on account of it suddenly being rush hour in Dean Row.
30 miles of fairly main roads went next - Cheshire main roads though. This part of the route is designed to get riders to a destination far away early in the day when the traffic is light so that they can conclude the day milling around on pleasant country lanes to get home. On any other weekend, we may not have been so lucky with our late start but with a lot of people away on holiday, even Saturday late morning traffic was not at all bad, plus we had a tasty tail wind.
Our first control was at the Hall Farm Cafe in Radway Green near Alsager.
Had we started at the normal time, this would have been a quick cup of tea and a scone and away but with our delayed start, we arrived in time for lunch and with oatcakes on the menu, who was I to argue?
Unfortunately the oat-cakes, though delicious and packed with fresh, tangy cheddar and mushrooms, were under-sized and under-accompanied by any further sustenance. We had more cake to bolster the experience and though our receipts put us in time, we left a little behind time.
Although for now we didn't realise it and rode lightly. We sniggered through Woore (arguing it should be forever twinned with Ware) and Ireland's Cross (gross political understatement) and Pipe Gate (parliamentary scandal involving underground services).
Through the crossover of our figure of 8 at Mucklestone and down through the lanes to Wales at last with our Newport stop 20 miles later, still a little hungry and needing a sit down from the romping pace the tail wind had pushed us to. We locked our bikes up and whilst I got out cash to furnish my receipt, TSK went in to purchase fruity cereal / yoghurt affairs and more coffee for his receipt.
We munched on, looked at our watches and, after a customer toilet stop, set off on our way again, confused as to why we were riding the line of the cut-offs, despite some roaring tail winds. To be honest, we'd not been trying too hard so damn that "morning" cafe lunch stop
We put down the hammer a bit now.
The hills were coming, the floods (run off from earlier rain) were growing and our long coffee stop in the morning had us struggling for time - and we were now riding into the head wind.
Floods are inevitably at the bottom of roaring descents right before turning back up hill. In the interests of dry feet, we stopped to almost nothing to minimise splashing and make sure no motorists were approaching to try and drown us in spray. Mostly it worked although TSK did have to face-off an Audi driver who wasn't going to relent with a quick swerve right into his path to stop him approaching any closer.
What it didn't do was help with the hill climb effort in the slightest and every climb was started from around 3 mph.
In Wheaton Aston it was time to deploy my emergency Mars Bar purchase then wait for TSK to do the rounds of the shop making decisions. I still ate some of the banana he procured though didn't I? I must've needed it because it didn't come back to talk to me again.
We'd made up a little bit of time but the struggle continued as I became determined to make enough time to cover a puncture or any other mechanical mishap that might put an end to my game. It was 35 miles to Wrenbury and finally the lanes improved. They were drier, less flooded and less covered in mud and gravel.
Whilst my inner cyclo-cross rider had loved it, TSK was struggling on his skinny carbon fibre bike. Even I had a minor breakdown when one particular pothole did for my stash of dried fruit and nuts and left the majority of the packet strewn across the road in the mud whilst I scrambled to dump the remaining contents of the muddy packet into my bike bag without spilling any or pouring in any drips of muddy puddle.
TSK went quiet at the back so we broke things up with a water stop in Audlem and then I single-handedly neglected to drink the water, instead opting to carry it over all the hills.
There was celebration as we passed the highest point on the ride (not very high) and then we rolled into the village of Wrenbury. A voice behind me said, "There's a beast in Wrenbury if you fancy a brew". He said Bistro but the Beast of Wrenbury stuck.
There were coffee tables and chairs outside the Spar / Post office so we went in there instead to pick up our receipt from the dedicated stop point. There was a coffee machine and hot sausage rolls which we consumed standing up indoors to warm up whilst chatting to the shopkeeper who had a quiet day due to everyone being out at the Jazz festival in Nantwich. At 7:30pm our hot sausage roll went some way to persuading my body I'd had dinner.
We were back on the bikes with good time in the bag now - almost an hour as I recall. It was a good job because on the first hill I suddenly realised my hill climbing legs were over for the day. The best I could do now was limp home and draft TSK for a while. I checked the route elevation to realise that I was at the bottom of a generally trending upward curve towards Wilmslow. Bollocks, this was going to be tough.
Of course, a ride in Cheshire is never as steep as it looks on a Garmin file and with the lights on in the fading background light, I hardly noticed most of the easy climbing as it was concentrated in a beam of silver/grey light and I spent most of the ride concentrated on a massive shadow of my ass / Carradice, projected by TSKs infinitely more powerful and aptly named Moon light.
Middlewich came and went in close company but without incident. Then back onto back-lanes through Church Minshul - routes we have done before and TSK knows quite well but me, not so much.
Most of this section of the ride was taken up by the intense concentration of attempting to eat my "Fish n Chips" crisps from my bike bag with gloves on - a feat I mostly accomplished including regularly sucking the salty grains off my gloved fingers not really trying to think too hard about where those gloves had been.
We got close enough to the finish for me to know that we'd done 120 miles (somewhere near) but I didn't have the logic to work out how far that was and look out for potholes at the same time so I relied instead on the ever-present glow of Manchester and the presence of low-flying aircraft which cheered me up a little and distracted me from my backside - now painfully suffering from a flat day of sitting down a lot and my toes, punched to pieces by regular pothole-related impact with shoes. Now how far was it from Ollerton to Wilmslow?
We passed through Alderley edge and onto the back-lanes to Wilmslow which I do not know as, when I lived in Manchester, the main road between Alderley Edge and Wilmslow was pleasant and traffic-free enough to still be able to enjoy and feel safe on a bike - oh how times have changed for that road is now full of four-by-four wielding clueless rich people who see cyclists as impoverished targets who need to be put out of their misery - if they notice them at all.
I wish I'd ridden those back lanes more in my youth as I would have known where I was instead of being spit out unceremoniously at the roundabout on the edge of Wilmslow right adjacent to the petrol station in a mixed jubilation of "We've finished!" and "I always wondered where that came out".
We hopped off our bikes and bought out various treats for the drive home - mostly involving chocolate milk and more salt-based snacks. As the local police parked up to pop inside for their evening feed, TSK and I packed our haul into Carradices for the short ride back to the Mercu where shelter from the wind and dry clothing awaited.
All eyes were on us as we set off down the road. Whether it was that age-old suspicion of cyclists or the awe that we were still out, riding at 9:23 pm... I hopped on my bike and promptly tried to shove my foot in my moving front wheel - much to the audible hilarity of the entire shop. "Jesus Christ", said TSK, "Don't get us arrested now!".
Further offences may have included public indecency as I replaced all clothing items for the drive home. Not to mention a lack of care and attention as I snaked us back to Sheffield full of the joys of spring and gobsmacked that, except for the odd drop of drizzle we had remained dry and happy all day. The only thing I can be dismayed about is the effort spent in taking all my waterproofs out for a lovely ride around Cheshire, Shropshire and Wales but then, can you imagine the consequences if I hadn't?
Lessons learned:
- saving the TT bars for the headwinds - I ran out of shoulders later in the day.
- Whilst spinning up hills is efficient, I still need to balance it with some standing to avoid 120 mile bum.
Split analysis:
- 23.16 mile 13.5 mph HR 132
- 1 hour cafe break!
- 27.76 mile 14.2 mph HR 140 Lots of smaller hills to be blown up
- 32 mins Waitrose
- 8.9 mile 13.7 mph HR 143
- 7 mins shop stop
- 27.7 miles 12.3 mph into a headwind now & the big hill HR 146
- Audlem water stop 7:56
- 6 miles 11.5 mph HR 141
- Wrenbury post office 19 minutes of warming up
- 34.8 miles 12.1 mph HR 135
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