Runcorn was gridlocked. Unbeknown to us, a lorry had overturned on the M56 and traffic had been piling up for some time. Our first challenge was just to extract ourselves from Runcorn away from the motorway and cross the River Weaver somewhere else. To cut a long story short, Keith in his Volvo and Steve Tan and I in my Berlingo arrived forty minutes later than intended. There was a good turnout of riders given the forecast of wild weather likely to reach us by mid-afternoon.
I had two
planned routes, one of about twenty-three miles and another with a seven miles longer
return from somewhere south-west of Malpas. The idea was to avoid stopping for
lunch and to get back to Alison’s sometime before the predicted bad weather. We
headed for Chowley and turned down Dog Lane. Despite ringing both Alison’s and the
Wind Whisperer the day before and receiving largely positive messages about the
condition of the local lanes, we were on the alert for any lingering snow and
ice.
I had a mishap at Barton when my shoelace
caught in my pedal on a short stretch of uphill main road. I couldn’t pedal and
couldn’t stop because I couldn’t get my foot down. Fortunately, I just keeled over
onto the soft grassy verge. Three of the troops came back to untangle me as I
lay with my leg raised and firmly attached to my bike. I did notice that Ray
was just drumming his fingers waiting at The Cock O’Barton; at least he wasn’t splitting
his sides laughing like the others. It was a good job that Keith had the
strength to help haul up a 15 stone plus old person who was being careful to protect
his new hip. That’s the last time I ask the missus to help me with my laces. I think she’s after my life insurance money. My
new bike shoes are lace less, thank goodness.
Our next stop was Tilston and on to Shocklach
where I turned left down Soughans Lane just before the familiar B5069. This
part of the route was a first for most, as we wriggled down to Cuddington Green,
passing Cuddington Hall south of the ‘B’ road before turning east on Dog Lane.
We were soon passing my Renault Sport garage at Oldcastle Heath and heading into
Malpas. Having confirmed that we would still prefer to save time and have lunch
on our return to Alison’s, we started to climb through Malpas. A surprising thing
happened as we approached The Old Fire Station Café: Clive came to the kerbside
and asked me if I recognised this guy with a dog. It was Graeme Campbell.
Evidently, Graham had mentioned my name to Clive’s group who were inside the
café. Graham was a popular member of our club for a while before deciding it
was a bit too much for him. Some of you may have met him eighteen months ago at Audlem Marina
with a group of electric bikers from around Malpas. After someone had caused him to fall off, he
has now called it a day as a cyclist, but was in good spirits, and it was a pleasure
to briefly talk to him once more.
At Hampton Heath we needed to make another
decision to go long via Bickerton, Peckforton and Beeston, or straight up to
Broxton Old Hall and down and up to Bolesworth Castle. Our late start and
Alison’s limited food offer after 2p.m. had to be factored in. Also, Trevor was
cycling back to Guilden Sutton from Tattenhall. The decision was to take the short
route via Brown Knowl. Trevor was feeling a loss of fitness having not cycled for
a few weeks, and although I was feeling fine, I wasn’t exactly van der Poel -like
pegging uphill. Steve would make impressive bursts of speed from time to time
in a vain attempt to stay warm. We arrived in good time at Tattenhall. The food
was appetising and the service friendly at a busy Alison’s. Trevor had an early
sausage roll and Clive appeared for a short chat. Ray regaled us once more with
the delights of holiday cruises, and interrogated Steve about his imminent luxury
cruise to South East Asia, where he will meet relatives whilst there. Like last
week, Steve was shivering heavily and his neck was very painful due to the cold.
I am sure that we all wish that he has a relaxing, warm and relatively pain
free time on holiday. Apart from being
rather cool the weather and road surfaces had not been a problem all day. I,
for one, thoroughly enjoyed the quiet, scenic lanes, and everybody should have
returned home dry, including Trevor and Clive. A short 24 miles covered, with
an extra twenty for Trevor.
DH
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