Don't you just hate rush hour traffic
Your ride today....
- Thread starter gbb
- Start date
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footloose crow
Über Member
- Location
- Cornwall. UK
8 March. A ferry, some hills and quite a lot of blue sky
What do you think about when you are cycling on your own?
I do bits of songs...although it is irritating when the original artist can't get the words right My version is the correct one. For example, 'Ferry across the Fowey'. Not sure how Gerry and the Pacemakers got the location wrong.
I also remember all the things I have done and now regret. Like agreeing to open a village fete, judge the pet competition and then choose the best dressed girl and boy. I was lucky to get out of the village alive. You need the judgement of a seasoned politician and the local knowledge of a pensioner brought up in that village before you start doing this. I am neither. I kept looking at the Chair of the Fete committee to see if he could give me a clue but he remained granite faced throughout. I didn't choose his granddaughter or her frisky springer spaniel and after that it was downhill. I have actually avoided that village for the last twenty years.
The plan for the day was to go west first and then come back (easterly) as the weather forecast said winds from the east until lunchtime and then a 180 degree switch to westerly in the afternoon. So tailwinds all day. How often does that happen?
Blue sky!! Dry lanes! It is still cold though.
After five miles of the ride it occurred to me that muscle memory and a lack of concentration had taken me eastwards on a familiar ride, rather than westwards as originally programmed, so my weather plan was now useless. So, singing Gerry and the Pacemaker songs (I only know two) I headed instead for the Fowey ferry which is actually in Bodinnick, where Daphne du Maurier once lived. The Fowey is wide here and the Channel (or the South Sea as it was known until the 18th century) is just a mile downstream. Fowey is dead posh; lots of people who have made fortunes in London live here and buy yachts which sit on a mooring all summer. They call it 'phow - e' but we call it 'foye' in the way that all locals love to puzzle foreigners from beyond the Tamar.
Ships navigate to just upstream of here and load china clay for export. Cornwall produces a third of the world's china clay. The dock is connected by a private road that used to be a railway branch line but the tracks were torn up and lorries carry the clay instead. Keeps them off the roads which is a good thing as the roads are non too wide hereabouts.
.
The ferry guys said they average two cars an hour at the moment and are losing money.
China Clay dock and the river pilot boats.
There is a steep old hill climbing out of Bodinnick, followed by an undulating road with widespread views across the Fowey valley. Some of the undulations were quite steep. I thought I could try a short cut to avoid a hill and cut left down a tempting lane but it was worse - 13-15% for 200 vertical feet of uphill. The legs were beginning to hurt at this point.
I only stopped to take a photograph....honest. I thought this was halfway but it wasn't even a quarter of the way.
I thought that lane was the last steep bit but I was wrong and after a mad skeltering, brake pad squealing, disc heating descent to Respryn bridge below the National Trust property at Lanhydrock, there was another long ascent which was always at least 10% and went up to 18% briefly. That was 300 vertical feet. Steep enough and long enough for me.
Respryn bridge - apparently very old and totally unsuited to modern traffic although that didn't seem to stop the constant stream of cars. I felt like a WW2 air raid warden..."oi don't you know there is a pandemic on?". Obviously my journey was completely necessary. This is the River Fowey again.
Once at the top of the Lanhydrock estate and feeling somewhat rubbery and tired, I noticed there was a zig zag track for bikes on the right (using the bike park here) which ascended the slope much more easily. I will remember that for the next time! I probably won't actually. I am good at remembering things too late.
From here is is much flatter although still good views as you slowly descend to the village of Roche, which village came as a surprise to me because I thought I was going somewhere else in my mental map of the journey. Then across Goss Moor, which involves a lot of bell ringing as it is a popular path and from here I let the bike choose the most downhill way home. Which it did, choosing a better route than I would have done.
Song fragments, memories of shame and toe curling embarrassments from the last sixty years, muses on the way snowdrops come out at the same time as primroses which seems wrong, cogitations on stem length and saddle set back, attempts to identify trees whilst passing at 20mph, conversations I have had and conversations I wish I had had, speculations on what other people are doing......five hours can pass quite quickly.
I have been retired for four years now and I still feel I am skiving off school when I cycle on a weekday, enjoying that burst of happiness at not being in a classroom, not having to be at someone's beck and call, free to ride when the sun comes out and go where I like. I intend to play truant for as long as I can.
What do you think about when you are cycling on your own?
I do bits of songs...although it is irritating when the original artist can't get the words right My version is the correct one. For example, 'Ferry across the Fowey'. Not sure how Gerry and the Pacemakers got the location wrong.
I also remember all the things I have done and now regret. Like agreeing to open a village fete, judge the pet competition and then choose the best dressed girl and boy. I was lucky to get out of the village alive. You need the judgement of a seasoned politician and the local knowledge of a pensioner brought up in that village before you start doing this. I am neither. I kept looking at the Chair of the Fete committee to see if he could give me a clue but he remained granite faced throughout. I didn't choose his granddaughter or her frisky springer spaniel and after that it was downhill. I have actually avoided that village for the last twenty years.
The plan for the day was to go west first and then come back (easterly) as the weather forecast said winds from the east until lunchtime and then a 180 degree switch to westerly in the afternoon. So tailwinds all day. How often does that happen?
Blue sky!! Dry lanes! It is still cold though.
After five miles of the ride it occurred to me that muscle memory and a lack of concentration had taken me eastwards on a familiar ride, rather than westwards as originally programmed, so my weather plan was now useless. So, singing Gerry and the Pacemaker songs (I only know two) I headed instead for the Fowey ferry which is actually in Bodinnick, where Daphne du Maurier once lived. The Fowey is wide here and the Channel (or the South Sea as it was known until the 18th century) is just a mile downstream. Fowey is dead posh; lots of people who have made fortunes in London live here and buy yachts which sit on a mooring all summer. They call it 'phow - e' but we call it 'foye' in the way that all locals love to puzzle foreigners from beyond the Tamar.
Ships navigate to just upstream of here and load china clay for export. Cornwall produces a third of the world's china clay. The dock is connected by a private road that used to be a railway branch line but the tracks were torn up and lorries carry the clay instead. Keeps them off the roads which is a good thing as the roads are non too wide hereabouts.
.
The ferry guys said they average two cars an hour at the moment and are losing money.
China Clay dock and the river pilot boats.
There is a steep old hill climbing out of Bodinnick, followed by an undulating road with widespread views across the Fowey valley. Some of the undulations were quite steep. I thought I could try a short cut to avoid a hill and cut left down a tempting lane but it was worse - 13-15% for 200 vertical feet of uphill. The legs were beginning to hurt at this point.
I only stopped to take a photograph....honest. I thought this was halfway but it wasn't even a quarter of the way.
I thought that lane was the last steep bit but I was wrong and after a mad skeltering, brake pad squealing, disc heating descent to Respryn bridge below the National Trust property at Lanhydrock, there was another long ascent which was always at least 10% and went up to 18% briefly. That was 300 vertical feet. Steep enough and long enough for me.
Respryn bridge - apparently very old and totally unsuited to modern traffic although that didn't seem to stop the constant stream of cars. I felt like a WW2 air raid warden..."oi don't you know there is a pandemic on?". Obviously my journey was completely necessary. This is the River Fowey again.
Once at the top of the Lanhydrock estate and feeling somewhat rubbery and tired, I noticed there was a zig zag track for bikes on the right (using the bike park here) which ascended the slope much more easily. I will remember that for the next time! I probably won't actually. I am good at remembering things too late.
From here is is much flatter although still good views as you slowly descend to the village of Roche, which village came as a surprise to me because I thought I was going somewhere else in my mental map of the journey. Then across Goss Moor, which involves a lot of bell ringing as it is a popular path and from here I let the bike choose the most downhill way home. Which it did, choosing a better route than I would have done.
Song fragments, memories of shame and toe curling embarrassments from the last sixty years, muses on the way snowdrops come out at the same time as primroses which seems wrong, cogitations on stem length and saddle set back, attempts to identify trees whilst passing at 20mph, conversations I have had and conversations I wish I had had, speculations on what other people are doing......five hours can pass quite quickly.
I have been retired for four years now and I still feel I am skiving off school when I cycle on a weekday, enjoying that burst of happiness at not being in a classroom, not having to be at someone's beck and call, free to ride when the sun comes out and go where I like. I intend to play truant for as long as I can.
Jon George
Mamil and couldn't care less
- Location
- Suffolk an' Good
As others have remarked - the quality of photographs on this thread really encourages a person to get out and ride. It's almost as if there's been some reason for us all to raise our game. 
T.M.H.N.E.T
Rainbows aren't just for world champions
- Location
- Northern Ireland
Snappy one
Then abandoned the bike against a giant plant pot
Then abandoned the bike against a giant plant pot
a.twiddler
Veteran
6/3/21
The Revolution Country Explorer has been looking at me plaintively as it languishes in the corner of the garage and today being sunny but cool I give in to its blandishments. On the way back from my last ride on the Linear I came back along the Weaver Way which I found unexpectedly enjoyable. I decided to follow the stretch from Vale Royal locks to Northwich today as a conventional bike such as this can get through the swinging gates on the route with less ado. Objective: burn off enough calories to justify a Greggs sausage roll at the town centre before returning. Oh! What an exciting life I do lead.
A few checks and squirts of oil and we hit the road.
Out through the back gate, climb aboard and amazingly the bike feels as if I’d never been off it. It fits me so well. The height and having to raise my leg so high to get on is a little disturbing at first but once rolling it is all good. Leaning forward feels restricting as I can’t get such a good side view at the junctions but I manage. I set off for Swanlow lane then right towards the town centre, all downhill from that point to the town centre traffic lights. The bike rolls willingly enough but somehow doesn’t have that joyful edge that the Linear has. As I approach, the left filter arrow is green and then, the green comes for straight across to Grange Lane without me having to stop. It feels easier to gain speed spontaneously on this bike without having to plan ahead for a particular gear.
I enjoy feeling anonymous on this bike. I trundle along Grange Lane, turn right by the tennis courts, still on Grange Lane, through a housing development, past the golf course, down a poorly surfaced dip which encourages me to make my teeth rattle as there is a climb up the other side which calls for a bit of speed, and suddenly there is farmland all about. I pass the long demolished railway bridge which carried the railway which is now the Whitegate Way and where the access ramps rise on either side. Past some isolated houses then the surfaced road ends.
There is a gate here with an access for bridleway traffic at the side but today it is open so I ride through. The surface has been repaired for a short way but then becomes potholed and rutted, though it is dry. The road slopes downhill so I bounce around and weave between the ruts and potholes. I endorse the principle of conservation of momentum so the modest BB5 discs on this bike suit me well. They certainly stop well enough and once set up don’t seem to need much attention.
There is always the little voice in your ear that says, if I like these, wouldn’t BB7s be even better? Maybe they would, but if it ain’t broke I’m not going to fix it.
As I come to the bottom of the downhill it narrows to a footpath and plunges into a wood. A little damp and muddy but it’s rideable. There is a very peaceful ambience with the sound of running water, birdsong, and wind in the treetops. Aah, mindfulness on wheels. I call it contemplative cycling. I stop and take some photos where the Pettypool Brook passes under a bridge, more like a culvert.
A few people with dogs pass by.
I carry on to where it widens out again, and the gate here is open too, so I ride on through. It’s extremely muddy. There is a thin less muddy strip alongside so I follow it to where the tarmac begins. I follow the lane past a row of houses to where it ends at a T junction.
I think about how this lane starts at a set of town centre traffic lights and goes through several transformations in just a few miles before ending in this well to do Cheshire village.
I turn right up a hill then left through a rather select estate. As I turn right uphill at another T junction I notice two women looking at something on a fence and realise it is a blue plaque. I turn back and take a photo.
I am rather put out by the number of cars parked on the hill, and the number of people wandering about. I ride back up the hill on to a track through the woods to Vale Royal golf club, doing my best to avoid the walkers. Over the summit and down into the grounds of the golf course. A buzzing noise from behind announces the arrival of a mountain biker pedalling furiously downhill as he passes me. I carry on freewheeling, avoiding the pedestrians as best I can.
At the far side of the golf course there is a swinging gate. There is a sign on it which says “Danger of tree failure in strong winds” . I have often wondered what a tree does when it fails to be a tree. Does it become an ex tree? Does it sign on for universal credit? Does it train for a new career? What are the opportunities for former trees? Perhaps it branches out.
I start to wheel the bike through and a walker coming the other way pulls the adjacent vehicle gate open. “They’re all unlocked for some reason” he says. I pull the bike back and wheel it through. The next gate along the lane is open too.
I turn off shortly afterwards to Vale Royal locks on the Weaver Navigation. Still a lot of people about, many of them cyclists. I take a few photos.
Vale Royal sluice looking upstream.
Looking downstream past the old gas lamps.
Another view downstream
Then I follow the Weaver Way towards Northwich. A group of about ten young people walk past me in the opposite direction as I pass under the Weaver Viaduct which carries the main West coast line overhead. This is surely taking the mickey! I keep my distance but among the walkers, dog walkers and cyclists who are mostly single or in pairs there is the occasional larger group. There are more dogs than people as some of the dog owners are with more than one dog. The surface is eroded and unpleasantly pitted and I feel the bumps even with the 38C tyres. As I approach the A556 and avoid the last swinging gate by taking a shortcut carved out by mountain bike tyres, to the steep path uphill towards the road then straight down again, the traffic noise from from the bridge high above is intense. It is Saturday afternoon, after all. I debate the wisdom of pressing on to Northwich if it is likely to be as crowded on that stretch. I decide to carry on, then find another way back. Once past the bridge the other path users seem to become more spread out, and no more large groups are encountered. The surface is much better too. It is as I experienced it on my last ride.
The variety of dogs increases, from a waddling overweight chocolate labrador stolidly minding its own business in the middle of the path (“come on Fudge, make some room”) through nervous looking streamlined pooches to a diminutive thing-on-a-string hiding behind its owner’s leg. There are a lot of boxer type dogs about today. None of these dogs are aggressive though they have as much sense as the average dog can be expected to have, ie not much, but we all get by fine.
I roll gently by Northwich Locks and note the pedestrian bridge as a possible link on my return route. I pass a couple whose German Shepherd comes bounding out of the river in a bedraggled state. I anticipate getting an impromptu shower but it doesn’t shake itself dry until I am out of range. I stop to photograph the bike with the railway viaduct and sluice gates in the background.
I continue to where the track runs between the cold legs of the stony giant which is the viaduct, then runs alongside to the light controlled crossing on the A533. I consider taking the quicker route to the town centre by road though the traffic is rather frenetic. A walker with a dog decides for me by pressing the button on the other side and I nip across while the going is good.
I follow the route across the river Dane then through a riverside park. I pass a woman sitting on a bench speaking argumentatively on her mobile in what I take to be Polish. Across a minor road then down the slope to the underpass and the town centre. The route spirals up to ground level and I cycle through the near empty precinct. It’s a sad sight with empty and boarded up shops lining the route. A couple of pedestrians stroll by paying me no attention, a nondescript old geezer on a bike. I come to the pedestrianised Witton Street which is busier with people and functioning shops. I get off and walk in a socially distanced manner to the nearby Greggs, whip my mask on and lock up the bike outside. I see that there are a few sausage rolls left.
A pity to waste them, a voice in my ear suggests. Have two! No! No! Be firm! Resist! Aargh! Oh all right then. I return with two hot sausage rolls in my rack bag through the underpass to the park. Better burn some rubber now, fatso, and hope that takes some calories with it.
The woman is still arguing on her phone on the same bench in a foreign tongue. Two young girls with bikes sitting at a picnic bench, random dog walkers and a family group with small kids wobbling around on the path on tiny bikes. I follow the viaduct, cross the road at the lights, dive under its shadow and follow the path along the river side. It stays dark, and I see that a long low cloud is in front of the sun though the sky is clear blue elsewhere. I swap my shades for clear specs. I reach the pedestrian bridge, cross over to Northwich locks then over the narrow footways with CYCLISTS DISMOUNT signs to the other side of the river. While I stop to get my bearings, two young cyclists, obviously bolder than I, cycle across them. Here there is a linear park. It’s still fairly busy here, a couple of family groups pass by. I head uphill from the river, a bit lost at first but after passing through an estate I come out in Hartford and head for Hartford lights. Left for the A556, across to the cycle path on the other side then left downhill to Hartford Bridge.
I turn right just before it on to a wooded lane which leads to Vale Royal golf course. After about a quarter of a mile I stop and eat the sausage rolls as their plaintive cries of “eat me” have become too loud to resist. I stand next to the bike and eat them. There is nobody about to witness my gluttony, despite a number of cars being parked at the entrance to the lane. Just birds and the wind in the trees. Does this constitute a picnic? Should I turn myself in? They are jolly good, perhaps all the better for being an illicit pleasure. A robin eyeballs me from a nearby tree, maybe hoping for some crumbs after I’ve gone. He doesn’t seem the type to be a stool pigeon. He looks like he could be trusted to remain tight lipped, or beaked.
The surface starts well but deteriorates as I approach a railway viaduct, into a muddy potholed puddled obstacle course. I navigate this safely and it becomes less extreme. I come to a vehicle gate which is open. A couple walking a dog pull well in to the side and I thank them then up ahead the lane fills full width with a crowd of adolescents on mountain bikes. I say, “Good God, what’s this!” and the woman says “It’s like a wolf pack!” They half heartedly single out as they steam by downhill and are gone. I carry, on wondering if I had actually heard one of them call me a cn*t or if they were just talking to each other. Hmm. No matter.
At the entrance to the golf course is another gate which I am just able to pull open and pass through. I go through the grounds and instead of detouring through the woods this time follow the metalled drive to its junction with the road through Whitegate. Just past the church I turn left, then right into Grange Lane, past the row of houses then stop just before it narrows to go through the woods at a churned up muddy patch to take a photo.
This then takes me up the hill and back to the built up area. I begin to feel a few aches and pains now, the sort of thing that I took for granted for years while riding conventional bikes but forgot about while I have been riding the recumbent. In fairness to this bike, it has been unobtrusive up to this point today, and I have always considered it to be a very comfortable bike of its type.
I don’t come across anyone from this point until I turn right at the top for the sports fields. I pass a few walkers and see some playing sports but just carry on to the A frame barrier on the far side. I stick my elbows out and wriggle through then ride up the steep lane as I did last time on the Linear. Up through an estate, left on to Delamere St still full of roadworks, across the A54 roundabout and home via Swanlow Lane. I note that my shoulders, upper arms and neck are a little sore, though perhaps the arms are aching from using unaccustomed muscles to pull and push on the bars which doesn’t happen on the recumbent. My neck is sore from having to look up. Later I also note that my behind is a bit tender too. A contrast to the relatively pain free recumbent experience.
I reflect on my ride today. Although it is good to see people out and about, and most of them were in ones or twos or obvious family groups, there was a disturbing number in large non socially distanced groups too. I wouldn’t be surprised to see a surge in COVID-19 cases particularly with new variants circulating, if this behaviour is common country wide, although I hope that it doesn’t happen.
According to Bike Hike, 17.31 miles, average speed, not a lot, max speed, not enough to blow my hat off.( Must get a replacement for my defunct bike computer).
The Revolution Country Explorer has been looking at me plaintively as it languishes in the corner of the garage and today being sunny but cool I give in to its blandishments. On the way back from my last ride on the Linear I came back along the Weaver Way which I found unexpectedly enjoyable. I decided to follow the stretch from Vale Royal locks to Northwich today as a conventional bike such as this can get through the swinging gates on the route with less ado. Objective: burn off enough calories to justify a Greggs sausage roll at the town centre before returning. Oh! What an exciting life I do lead.
A few checks and squirts of oil and we hit the road.
Out through the back gate, climb aboard and amazingly the bike feels as if I’d never been off it. It fits me so well. The height and having to raise my leg so high to get on is a little disturbing at first but once rolling it is all good. Leaning forward feels restricting as I can’t get such a good side view at the junctions but I manage. I set off for Swanlow lane then right towards the town centre, all downhill from that point to the town centre traffic lights. The bike rolls willingly enough but somehow doesn’t have that joyful edge that the Linear has. As I approach, the left filter arrow is green and then, the green comes for straight across to Grange Lane without me having to stop. It feels easier to gain speed spontaneously on this bike without having to plan ahead for a particular gear.
I enjoy feeling anonymous on this bike. I trundle along Grange Lane, turn right by the tennis courts, still on Grange Lane, through a housing development, past the golf course, down a poorly surfaced dip which encourages me to make my teeth rattle as there is a climb up the other side which calls for a bit of speed, and suddenly there is farmland all about. I pass the long demolished railway bridge which carried the railway which is now the Whitegate Way and where the access ramps rise on either side. Past some isolated houses then the surfaced road ends.
There is a gate here with an access for bridleway traffic at the side but today it is open so I ride through. The surface has been repaired for a short way but then becomes potholed and rutted, though it is dry. The road slopes downhill so I bounce around and weave between the ruts and potholes. I endorse the principle of conservation of momentum so the modest BB5 discs on this bike suit me well. They certainly stop well enough and once set up don’t seem to need much attention.
There is always the little voice in your ear that says, if I like these, wouldn’t BB7s be even better? Maybe they would, but if it ain’t broke I’m not going to fix it.
As I come to the bottom of the downhill it narrows to a footpath and plunges into a wood. A little damp and muddy but it’s rideable. There is a very peaceful ambience with the sound of running water, birdsong, and wind in the treetops. Aah, mindfulness on wheels. I call it contemplative cycling. I stop and take some photos where the Pettypool Brook passes under a bridge, more like a culvert.
A few people with dogs pass by.
I carry on to where it widens out again, and the gate here is open too, so I ride on through. It’s extremely muddy. There is a thin less muddy strip alongside so I follow it to where the tarmac begins. I follow the lane past a row of houses to where it ends at a T junction.
I think about how this lane starts at a set of town centre traffic lights and goes through several transformations in just a few miles before ending in this well to do Cheshire village.
I turn right up a hill then left through a rather select estate. As I turn right uphill at another T junction I notice two women looking at something on a fence and realise it is a blue plaque. I turn back and take a photo.
I am rather put out by the number of cars parked on the hill, and the number of people wandering about. I ride back up the hill on to a track through the woods to Vale Royal golf club, doing my best to avoid the walkers. Over the summit and down into the grounds of the golf course. A buzzing noise from behind announces the arrival of a mountain biker pedalling furiously downhill as he passes me. I carry on freewheeling, avoiding the pedestrians as best I can.
At the far side of the golf course there is a swinging gate. There is a sign on it which says “Danger of tree failure in strong winds” . I have often wondered what a tree does when it fails to be a tree. Does it become an ex tree? Does it sign on for universal credit? Does it train for a new career? What are the opportunities for former trees? Perhaps it branches out.
I start to wheel the bike through and a walker coming the other way pulls the adjacent vehicle gate open. “They’re all unlocked for some reason” he says. I pull the bike back and wheel it through. The next gate along the lane is open too.
I turn off shortly afterwards to Vale Royal locks on the Weaver Navigation. Still a lot of people about, many of them cyclists. I take a few photos.
Vale Royal sluice looking upstream.
Looking downstream past the old gas lamps.
Another view downstream
Then I follow the Weaver Way towards Northwich. A group of about ten young people walk past me in the opposite direction as I pass under the Weaver Viaduct which carries the main West coast line overhead. This is surely taking the mickey! I keep my distance but among the walkers, dog walkers and cyclists who are mostly single or in pairs there is the occasional larger group. There are more dogs than people as some of the dog owners are with more than one dog. The surface is eroded and unpleasantly pitted and I feel the bumps even with the 38C tyres. As I approach the A556 and avoid the last swinging gate by taking a shortcut carved out by mountain bike tyres, to the steep path uphill towards the road then straight down again, the traffic noise from from the bridge high above is intense. It is Saturday afternoon, after all. I debate the wisdom of pressing on to Northwich if it is likely to be as crowded on that stretch. I decide to carry on, then find another way back. Once past the bridge the other path users seem to become more spread out, and no more large groups are encountered. The surface is much better too. It is as I experienced it on my last ride.
The variety of dogs increases, from a waddling overweight chocolate labrador stolidly minding its own business in the middle of the path (“come on Fudge, make some room”) through nervous looking streamlined pooches to a diminutive thing-on-a-string hiding behind its owner’s leg. There are a lot of boxer type dogs about today. None of these dogs are aggressive though they have as much sense as the average dog can be expected to have, ie not much, but we all get by fine.
I roll gently by Northwich Locks and note the pedestrian bridge as a possible link on my return route. I pass a couple whose German Shepherd comes bounding out of the river in a bedraggled state. I anticipate getting an impromptu shower but it doesn’t shake itself dry until I am out of range. I stop to photograph the bike with the railway viaduct and sluice gates in the background.
I continue to where the track runs between the cold legs of the stony giant which is the viaduct, then runs alongside to the light controlled crossing on the A533. I consider taking the quicker route to the town centre by road though the traffic is rather frenetic. A walker with a dog decides for me by pressing the button on the other side and I nip across while the going is good.
I follow the route across the river Dane then through a riverside park. I pass a woman sitting on a bench speaking argumentatively on her mobile in what I take to be Polish. Across a minor road then down the slope to the underpass and the town centre. The route spirals up to ground level and I cycle through the near empty precinct. It’s a sad sight with empty and boarded up shops lining the route. A couple of pedestrians stroll by paying me no attention, a nondescript old geezer on a bike. I come to the pedestrianised Witton Street which is busier with people and functioning shops. I get off and walk in a socially distanced manner to the nearby Greggs, whip my mask on and lock up the bike outside. I see that there are a few sausage rolls left.
A pity to waste them, a voice in my ear suggests. Have two! No! No! Be firm! Resist! Aargh! Oh all right then. I return with two hot sausage rolls in my rack bag through the underpass to the park. Better burn some rubber now, fatso, and hope that takes some calories with it.
The woman is still arguing on her phone on the same bench in a foreign tongue. Two young girls with bikes sitting at a picnic bench, random dog walkers and a family group with small kids wobbling around on the path on tiny bikes. I follow the viaduct, cross the road at the lights, dive under its shadow and follow the path along the river side. It stays dark, and I see that a long low cloud is in front of the sun though the sky is clear blue elsewhere. I swap my shades for clear specs. I reach the pedestrian bridge, cross over to Northwich locks then over the narrow footways with CYCLISTS DISMOUNT signs to the other side of the river. While I stop to get my bearings, two young cyclists, obviously bolder than I, cycle across them. Here there is a linear park. It’s still fairly busy here, a couple of family groups pass by. I head uphill from the river, a bit lost at first but after passing through an estate I come out in Hartford and head for Hartford lights. Left for the A556, across to the cycle path on the other side then left downhill to Hartford Bridge.
I turn right just before it on to a wooded lane which leads to Vale Royal golf course. After about a quarter of a mile I stop and eat the sausage rolls as their plaintive cries of “eat me” have become too loud to resist. I stand next to the bike and eat them. There is nobody about to witness my gluttony, despite a number of cars being parked at the entrance to the lane. Just birds and the wind in the trees. Does this constitute a picnic? Should I turn myself in? They are jolly good, perhaps all the better for being an illicit pleasure. A robin eyeballs me from a nearby tree, maybe hoping for some crumbs after I’ve gone. He doesn’t seem the type to be a stool pigeon. He looks like he could be trusted to remain tight lipped, or beaked.
The surface starts well but deteriorates as I approach a railway viaduct, into a muddy potholed puddled obstacle course. I navigate this safely and it becomes less extreme. I come to a vehicle gate which is open. A couple walking a dog pull well in to the side and I thank them then up ahead the lane fills full width with a crowd of adolescents on mountain bikes. I say, “Good God, what’s this!” and the woman says “It’s like a wolf pack!” They half heartedly single out as they steam by downhill and are gone. I carry, on wondering if I had actually heard one of them call me a cn*t or if they were just talking to each other. Hmm. No matter.
At the entrance to the golf course is another gate which I am just able to pull open and pass through. I go through the grounds and instead of detouring through the woods this time follow the metalled drive to its junction with the road through Whitegate. Just past the church I turn left, then right into Grange Lane, past the row of houses then stop just before it narrows to go through the woods at a churned up muddy patch to take a photo.
This then takes me up the hill and back to the built up area. I begin to feel a few aches and pains now, the sort of thing that I took for granted for years while riding conventional bikes but forgot about while I have been riding the recumbent. In fairness to this bike, it has been unobtrusive up to this point today, and I have always considered it to be a very comfortable bike of its type.
I don’t come across anyone from this point until I turn right at the top for the sports fields. I pass a few walkers and see some playing sports but just carry on to the A frame barrier on the far side. I stick my elbows out and wriggle through then ride up the steep lane as I did last time on the Linear. Up through an estate, left on to Delamere St still full of roadworks, across the A54 roundabout and home via Swanlow Lane. I note that my shoulders, upper arms and neck are a little sore, though perhaps the arms are aching from using unaccustomed muscles to pull and push on the bars which doesn’t happen on the recumbent. My neck is sore from having to look up. Later I also note that my behind is a bit tender too. A contrast to the relatively pain free recumbent experience.
I reflect on my ride today. Although it is good to see people out and about, and most of them were in ones or twos or obvious family groups, there was a disturbing number in large non socially distanced groups too. I wouldn’t be surprised to see a surge in COVID-19 cases particularly with new variants circulating, if this behaviour is common country wide, although I hope that it doesn’t happen.
According to Bike Hike, 17.31 miles, average speed, not a lot, max speed, not enough to blow my hat off.( Must get a replacement for my defunct bike computer).
Total Ascent: | 655 | ft | |
| Total Descent: | 655 | ft | |
| Start Elevation: | 192 | ft | |
| End Elevation: | 192 | ft | |
| Min Elevation: | 46 | ft | |
| Max Elevation: | 220 | ft | |
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Andy in Germany
Guru
- Location
- Freiburg im Breisgau
There was a tractor this morning...
twentysix by twentyfive
Clinging on tightly
- Location
- Over the Hill
Chilly still but dry and reasonably bright. I was looking for my get up and go on this one. I rather hoped I would ride myself in. But it never happened. But I plugged away and enjoyed some wild daffs here and there. Primroses too and celandine. Lots of wildfowl on the Hams at Ashleworth. I could hear the wigeon and teal as well as spy the teal and some pintail. Greylag geese were grazing nearby. I paused in Forthampton to sit on the bench for a bit of a breather. Then headed back by the usual route. Pleasant ride if the "weak as a kitten" is forgotten. 47 smiles
AndreaJ
Veteran
Still a bit chilly this morning so still in a winter jacket. After waiting for the school run traffic to go I set off to Whixall as far as Hollinswood where I turned off to Fenns Wood and Fenns Bank, down the dip to Blackloe, Alkington and across to Tilstock. Turned by the pub back to Hollinswood, Coton, and Coton Wood joining the Whitchurch road at Steele Heath. Turned off by the next pub in Coton to Whixall, Ryebank, Edstaston and back onto the Whitchurch road into Wem which was deserted as usual, went past work to Tilley, Loppington with a bit of a detour to Wolverley and home. Actually warmed up quite a bit so shouldn’t have worn a thick jacket. 32.5 miles, primroses starting to flower now and lots of lambs in the fields.
Jon George
Mamil and couldn't care less
- Location
- Suffolk an' Good
What a difference a day makes!
Glorious sun here in Suffolk, so indulged in a bit of sprint-and-stop-to-take-pic 10 mile (?) ride out towards Levington. This is one of them.
Glorious sun here in Suffolk, so indulged in a bit of sprint-and-stop-to-take-pic 10 mile (?) ride out towards Levington. This is one of them.
The weather is being kind again. Still kind of cold but with enough sun to persuade me to go for a ride. And the Bob Jackson has been stuck in the shed since December, it’s about time I took that one out.
The gearchange took a couple of hundred yards to settle down, or maybe wake up out of hibernation, after that all was well. And didn’t it feel different? The Spa is great, comfortable, does everything well. The Jacko seems to add pzzazz. That’s been in short supply these last months, as we know. So, pedal off with pzzazz, aim for Holbeck. Leave briskly, through Hunslet on the way to John o’ Gaunts and then down to the roundabout at Oulton. Left at the next roundabout and ride through Methley and Methley Junction on the way to Castleford.
This is easy riding, after the climb to John o’ Gaunts. Even the bridge over the River Calder on the outskirts of Castleford does not rise much. I was shown a way, a path along the riverbank, to avoid the next bit of road. But I did not think to use it until I had passed the way to it. Must do better. So along the northern edge of Castleford to Lock Lane and the bridges over adjacent waterways. The road misses Allerton Bywater, not by much and before the hill starts steepening there is a right turn, onto Newton Lane.
There is a lot of water to each side of this road, and the RSPB centre at Fairburn Ings before reaching Fairburn itself. With its very own steep little hill. Turn left. Do you know, I cannot remember this next bit of road at all? But it meets the A63 not far west of Monk Fryston and that bit of road is ‘orrible in the extreme. Fit to rattle your teeth out. Things improve after reaching the Great North Road to and through Micklefield. At the next crossroads turn right, I cannot be this close to the gates at Lotherton Hall and miss them. And then left onto Lotherton Lane.
I am sure there are wheel ruts in the tarmac all the way now. Aberford, Cattle Lane, Barwick and Scholes. It’s a different day, so a different ride. And it must have been playtime at the primary school in Scholes when I passed. Well noisy. Zag and zig from there to the A58 at Red Hall and down all the way to Leeds’ centre. Crown Point Bridge to return to my side of the River Aire and that last couple of miles to home. Thirty eight miles, most of the 1700 feet going up occurred in the final half of the ride, still smiled all the way.
And the geography
The gearchange took a couple of hundred yards to settle down, or maybe wake up out of hibernation, after that all was well. And didn’t it feel different? The Spa is great, comfortable, does everything well. The Jacko seems to add pzzazz. That’s been in short supply these last months, as we know. So, pedal off with pzzazz, aim for Holbeck. Leave briskly, through Hunslet on the way to John o’ Gaunts and then down to the roundabout at Oulton. Left at the next roundabout and ride through Methley and Methley Junction on the way to Castleford.
This is easy riding, after the climb to John o’ Gaunts. Even the bridge over the River Calder on the outskirts of Castleford does not rise much. I was shown a way, a path along the riverbank, to avoid the next bit of road. But I did not think to use it until I had passed the way to it. Must do better. So along the northern edge of Castleford to Lock Lane and the bridges over adjacent waterways. The road misses Allerton Bywater, not by much and before the hill starts steepening there is a right turn, onto Newton Lane.
There is a lot of water to each side of this road, and the RSPB centre at Fairburn Ings before reaching Fairburn itself. With its very own steep little hill. Turn left. Do you know, I cannot remember this next bit of road at all? But it meets the A63 not far west of Monk Fryston and that bit of road is ‘orrible in the extreme. Fit to rattle your teeth out. Things improve after reaching the Great North Road to and through Micklefield. At the next crossroads turn right, I cannot be this close to the gates at Lotherton Hall and miss them. And then left onto Lotherton Lane.
I am sure there are wheel ruts in the tarmac all the way now. Aberford, Cattle Lane, Barwick and Scholes. It’s a different day, so a different ride. And it must have been playtime at the primary school in Scholes when I passed. Well noisy. Zag and zig from there to the A58 at Red Hall and down all the way to Leeds’ centre. Crown Point Bridge to return to my side of the River Aire and that last couple of miles to home. Thirty eight miles, most of the 1700 feet going up occurred in the final half of the ride, still smiled all the way.
And the geography
DCBassman
Guru
- Location
- The lumpy far South West
And part 2, rather later than expected, and £96 lighter of wallet. Not quite so cold, and mostly uphill, so kept warmer anyhow.
Last of the good weather and low wind. Tomorrow looks grim...
Last of the good weather and low wind. Tomorrow looks grim...
Andy in Germany
Guru
- Location
- Freiburg im Breisgau
It was a bit cold this morning...
...so cold in fact, that the cable to the rear derailleur froze. I'd been expecting because it's a weakness of a design created in California, but I can usually pull it and loosen it, but this time it was like a rock...
Thankfully it had warmed up a bit by the afternoon, so I could change gears again...
...so cold in fact, that the cable to the rear derailleur froze. I'd been expecting because it's a weakness of a design created in California, but I can usually pull it and loosen it, but this time it was like a rock...
Thankfully it had warmed up a bit by the afternoon, so I could change gears again...
Donger
Convoi Exceptionnel
- Location
- Quedgeley, Glos.
Chap sur le velo
Über Member
- Location
- @acknee
...has been rained off.
And my ultra moderne, flat, hand held Chrystal Ball, is predicting tomorrows will be blown away....
And my ultra moderne, flat, hand held Chrystal Ball, is predicting tomorrows will be blown away....
