Four moderate riders assembled in the now-named ‘Castle Bistro’
in Church Street, Chirk: Keith, Trevor, Bob and myself. The morning had started
poorly with rain and low cloud on the hills. However by the time we were ready
to leave, the rain was ceasing, although the day would remain murky and the
lanes wet and muddy. Our destination was
the Bradford Arms in Llanymynech.
We took a common route out from Chirk, crossing the A5
roundabout and making for Hindford. Before we made it to Welsh Frankton, the
long dormant curse of ‘Puncture Bob’ struck, and we stopped while he fixed his
rear tyre. While this was happening we
watched several tractors pulling slurry tanks that were far too wide for the
lanes pass by. Next we saw a white
builder's van speed towards us and stop. “Have
you seen a silver car?” they asked. Apparently the car had clipped their wing
mirror and they were trying to chase it down. We couldn’t help them, though as
we resumed our ride, we met them in their search again. I think we were all grateful not to be the
subject of their ire. We continued onwards through West Felton and Maesbrook,
before joining the road into Llanymynech and cautiously driving through some fresh
hedge cuttings.
Llanymynech is on the England Wales border. If the old Lion
Pub had still been open we could have chosen between two bars in England and
one in Wales. When many Welsh counties were “dry” on Sundays, you could always
get served in the “wet” English bars. We
however were after a very much open pub.
We have visited the Bradford Arms several times before and were settled
comfortably besides an open fire, while we all tucked into fish and chips. For
some reason the conversation focussed on the energy industry – oil, nuclear and
solar.
Soon it was time to leave and we tracked back through the
hedge cuttings before heading north to Maesbury and approaching Oswestry
through quiet lanes from the east. For
once we were ahead of school closing times and the traffic was light. As we passed by the old hill fort, several
riders remembered the altercation with the angry old man who tried to run us
off the road on this year’s long ride. No such problems today, as we make our
way towards Weston Rhyn. A few miles out
from the village, the curse strikes again, this time in the front tyre. Trevor
leaves us to catch his train while repairs are made. We exit Weston Rhyn via the High Street which
takes us down to the Ceriog valley and a much more pleasant return to Chirk
than the main road.
We head straight to the car park, where we meet the
returning brisk riders. A good ride in reasonable conditions: 20 miles before
lunch and 16 after.
SH
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