9/7/26
Recumbent Ride
On the Rans Stratus to Thurstaston
Not what I’d originally planned as I’d wanted to try in the other direction on the Wirral Circular Trail to suss it out towards Hooton Station, maybe to Eastham Ferry or further to Birkenhead if time allowed.
The Plan was to eventually join up the bits I’d done so that I can at some time do the whole Wirral Circular Trail in one ride with less time wasted in getting lost.
So, out I went full of plans at 09:20 into a day that promised to become uncomfortably hot later.
I’d not done a long ride with the MKS GR9 platform pedals since I’d fitted them so brought along the old ones as belt and braces. Initially I didn’t even think about them as I just stuck out my foot and got rolling with no drama.
Since this was going to be my first proper long ride this year I planned to conserve my energy at first. Left into a headwind, bright and sunny but not too hot to begin with. I was wearing my gilet for the useful pockets but would slip it over the seat back later when it warmed up a bit.
Down the dip at Darnhall Bridge, up the climb on the other side, and some steady trundling before the gradual climb began for Eaton on Hickhurst Lane. I estimated about an hour to Tiverton from home and was a little behind by the time I stopped in a layby at Four Lane Ends just before my turn off for a glug of water and to put the gilet on the seat back.
Downhill to turn right for Tiverton, and after a short climb I knew there was a downhill trend to Huxley so was going to make the most of the opportunities for freewheeling.
There were many road works on this stretch with traffic lights, some short enough to see traffic coming at the other end. I tended to carry on if I could see the way was clear, pulling in between the cones if someone came the other way. A woman on a bike caught me up, and her presence caused me to become Mr Law-Abiding, resulting in a long wait at a couple of lights. As I came to Huxley another group caught me up. Here there were three way lights with some heavy work going on.
It was a long wait, but when the lights changed I noticed that the freewheeling ability of the Rans made me have to brake where the others had to pedal down a slight downhill. They went straight on while I turned left. I was a bit irritated by the long wait. If not for the others, I might have just taken my chances. Last time I came this way, the lights weren’t green for long enough for a cyclist to get through before they changed.
I was beginning to find that my right foot tended to move outwards on the pedal over a period of time, needing me to consciously move it back inwards every so often. Also, my left foot was beginning to become painful. I’m prone to foot pain, but this usually happens after about 40 miles, and usually coincides with the need for a break. I’d only done about 15 miles so far. My first stop was due at Net’s Cafe after Burton Marsh at about 30 miles. I had a feeling that I was going to have to put my original pedals back on. They had more pronounced serrations which helped to locate my feet while the current ones were fairly smooth.
I pressed on, going fairly well, over the tall canal bridge which crosses the Shropshire Union, to Waverton, straight on across Eggbridge Lane to join the Whitchurch road at Rowton to turn right rowards Chester.
Not long afterwards someone shouted, “Effing something unintelligible” from a van going the other way. Charming. Then a truck coming up behind gave a loud blast on his horn, though as he was towing a long trailer maybe he was just giving me a warning so I wouldn’t be taken by surprise.
After that things were pretty uneventful until I reached the roundabout before Chester. As traffic didn’t seem so bad I just went across on the lights to Boughton Road.
Taking it steady I came to the traffic lights to turn right on to Hoole lane, crossed a canal and railway bridge then left at a roundabout to a road which brought me to Hoole Road. Straight across c/o a courteous driver who flashed to let me go then under a railway bridge to turn left into an access to the Chester Greenway. A good few miles with no chance of getting lost. I passed above the town centre, crossed the Shropshire Union Canal and very soon was passing through Blacon old station. I was passed by many cyclists, overtook one or two, and many more came the other way.
A mountain biker gradually loomed in my mirror but couldn’t quite overtake. I turned up the revs a bit and he fell behind, but was always a presence. I found that I was actually going quite well, despite a persistent headwind so I pushed on and he disappeared. Perhaps I just needed an incentive to improve my average speed a bit. I kept it up to the steep bridge at Sealand. I thought that he’d reappear as I windmilled up the slope but I flew down the other side without seeing him. I eased off to give my feet a rest and he was there again. I was turning off to Neston soon so I took it easy through some shady woodland. A couple of other cyclists came past and I followed them at the turn off to Neston.
Through an industrial estate well supplied with cycle facilities, alongside and under a dual carriageway, passing some barriers without stopping, and under some more bridges then through more barriers, up a ramp on to the path through Burton Marsh reserve. Looking forward to a break now, having passed into Wales some way back and coming to a “Welcome to England” sign at the entrance to Burton Marsh.
The boardwalks through the Marsh seemed louder and squeakier than last year and there were signs relating to “Deterioration in boardwalks -can you help?” I got across a couple of cattle grids then rode alongside a sheep farm. Finally through a sort of airlock for sheep with two gates. Not so difficult in this direction on a recumbent, with gravity in your favour, maybe tricky coming back. There were a lot of biting flies about this year, perhaps kept at bay by my long trousers on previous occasions, but now unable to resist the lure of my succulent tender legs revealed by my shorts.
Finally after bumping over some speed humps I turned into Net’s Cafe. I parked in a shady spot. About three hours from home. After a cheese and ham toastie and a cold drink I swopped the pedals over. Since I’d only recently fitted them it was a fairly easy job with an Allen key and didn’t take long. Then, an ice cream, an inspection of the plumbing, and time to hit the road for Neston.
I immediately felt a difference with the pedals. They are slightly wider than the platform ones, and the serrations certainly help to keep your feet in place. Not so smooth running, and a bit plasticky, but they do the job.
Denhall Lane is narrow with signs indicating for cyclists and pedestrians only. In case you were in any doubt, there were regular short sharp speed humps to rattle your bones.
Finally I came out in Old Quay which has a lot of Mediterranean -reminiscent houses facing seaward. Finally, the road turns right and uphill. Although I know that there is a route up and over this hill which eventually brings you out on the Wirral Way towards Hooton, I still felt that I ought to be able to access it from nearer to hand, and work out how I missed it previously.
So, I followed the signs and after winding about some estate roads came to a path across Flint Meadow and on to a path under a low railway bridge.
Now if I could just get up there and turn left surely this is the Wirral Way to Hooton? I asked a handy pedestrian if this was indeed the way to Amarillo er, Hooton and he said er, yes. So I pushed the Rans up a steep path which local walkers had obviously made while getting up there. Across the bridge, quickly to another one on top of a rise with a post in the middle and a steep drop to a car park. This was where I ended up after my first foray up the Wirral Way to West Kirby and back. There was a multi armed sign post in black with gold lettering which seemed to suggest that the Wirral Way in the direction I wanted was through a skate park. The entrance to the park had an impressive triple barrier that would stop most cycles, let alone me. Alternatively, the Wirral Way to Neston was back the way I’d come, and in the other direction, uphill towards a T junction, it just said “Cycleway”. I’d gone that way last time, and got lost, so I just went to the end of the road to see if I’d missed something. There was a sign with information on the site of Neston South station, some photos and a map.
That didn’t help me, so I decided I’d lost enough time and headed back the way I’d come so that I could at least reach Thurstaston before heading for home. Hooton and other points Merseyward would have to wait until next time.
Back along the route, up the steep ramp, over the first bridge, then the low bridge and along the dusty rail trail until I came out in Parkgate. Right up a slight hill then left on to the trail proper.
The trail duplicates itself in places, with a narrow path running alongside and sometimes a better surfaced version alongside. In other places it’s rather narrow and overgrown.
I passed through Gayton. It seemed to take a long time to reach the point where the trail swerves to the left past a group of picnic benches at Heswall, to join a road where the trackbed has been used to build houses on. I stopped here to have a drink as it was shady. There was a group of older cyclists who showed an interest in the bike, though seemed sceptical as to its benefits. Fortunately they were about to go, so I could enjoy the shade and my drink in peace.
There was an information board by the exit, so I took a photo.
I got on to the road and climbed a hump, then down the other side and before long turned back on to the trail. After a couple more miles the distinctive outline of a tadpole trike appeared ahead, and the woman riding it said, “Hi” as she went past, and I waved in return. The gritty trail continued, and finally I saw a gate ahead. The trail veered off to the left then after a few hundred yards became centred between two platforms. I’d arrived at Thurstaston old station. I turned round at the far end of the platform under the station bridge and rode up the platform ramp, then sharp right to the cafe behind. A swift trip to the toilets, picked up a couple of fresh cold drinks then back to the platform. Drank one sitting on a shady bench, kept one for later.
Making the most of the following wind now, on the way back. Right on the uneven trail until it returned to the line of the main trail, onward until I came up behind a slow moving dog walker with three dogs. I slowed down behind him until the trail unexpectedly opened out on to the road at Heswall. Up a slope, down the other side and back on to the main line of the trail past the shady picnic benches.
Straightforward steady pedalling now with some uphills and downhills at former bridges and crossings. Passing groups of people and random cyclists, the trail trending downhill as Parkgate drew near. Finally out on the road. Since I’d come from the right earlier I went left uphill with less risk of getting off the route. A long hill, but with many attractive older buildings to enjoy on the way. Finally I turned right at a well signed turning and began my downhill roll. I soon came to the low bridge near which I’d got on to the trail earlier. Following the signs, I came to Flint Meadow and had a look at the information board before rolling on. Through some estate roads then out on the downhill to the right to Old Wharf.
Following the road round to the left, then on to Denhall Lane and eventually arriving at the entrance to Burton Marsh where no doubt the biting flies were preparing for their second helping of me on the way back. I endeavoured not to stop, but the following wind gave the flies assistance too. As I neared the far exit a balaclava’d, hooded illegal motorcycle rider flew past in the opposite direction no doubt splattering a few flies on the way. Then came a solitary sporty cyclist. “There’s a big barrier ahead”, he said. “Well of course, I thought. This is not my first Rodeo, you know”.
So I passed through the barrier, under a couple of bridges and out to turn left on to a lane, then immediately right through another barrier, under a dual carriageway, then left alongside it to zig zag through an industrial estate on to the route for Chester Greenway. I was heading for Hawarden Station to access the Wales Coast Path.
As I turned for Hawarden Bridge a sporty cyclist bombed past. Not much chance of catching him I though, then a woman sailed past too. Well, no excuse there. I’m just a slow old fart. Though perhaps the fact that I’d just done 60 miles might be taken into consideration, M’lud.
I got onto the Wales Coast Path and headed for the first bench for a break. After having a cold drink and a Kit Kat to the accompaniment of various cyclists, both electric and with muscle power that I could only dream of, hurtling by in both directions I gathered myself together. There was a serious following wind in my favour with nothing to stop it between here and Chester.
I crossed the road at the first bridge then wriggled through the barriers of the next one nearby and despite myself found my speed gradually rising, having to change up until at one stage I was cruising at 15 mph. That is remarkable for me. At times I dropped to around 10mph but soon got near 15mph again. My hopes rose that I would be passing through Chester sooner than expected. Not many cyclists overtook me, the most notable being a time trialist with tri bars, head down and bum in the air who I heard long before he hurtled past. Then two sporty riders obviously taking turns to slipstream each other. Then a rather upright woman with a basket in front, with a shiny silver motor hub at the rear who casually sailed past in a waft of fragrance putting to shame my aroma of Armpit for Men which I’d been cultivating since this morning. Just before I reached the third bridge the time triallist in training passed me on his way back to Hawarden Bridge.
Although the tide had been coming in earlier it had turned and I could smell the mud as I did the last stretch into Chester, passing various Wales Coast Path markers.
I came to some path repairs with pedestrian traffic lights and barriers. A large group of cyclists came the other way, then I went. Through a park then on to a shared path on Sealand Road. I passed the canal access to the Dee, still with missing lock gates. Another cyclist came up behind while I was looking for the turn off for the bike path by the Dee, then he’d disappeared. He’d obviously found it. I continued along the pavement path which then disappeared. I gingerly continued along the pavement as I could see the railway arches by the racecourse ahead.
I wheeled the bike on the narrow pavement under the arches then turned on to the bike path between the arches and racecourse.
I got going and after slowing for some walkers just spotted the cyclist from earlier joining the path from underneath the arches on the right. By the time I reached that point he was well ahead on the path between the racecourse and the river. I made a note of it to follow the path to see where it came out next time, if I was less pressed for time.
Continuing on the path alongside the racecourse, under the Grosvenor Bridge, alongside the Roodee car park until I came to the Old Dee Bridge. There was a great crowd of young people in running gear on the other side of the road. They were quite noisy. Some university related event? I wheeled the bike carefully through the crowd and carried on along the riverside. I stopped to watch some canoeists on the weir. Someone called out “watch out behind” and the crowd of runners pattered past. I noticed that it was 7pm. I followed on behind
and fortunately the group poured on to the footbridge across the Dee leaving the way clear for me to carry straight on.
The route turned left uphill on Dee Lane. I turned right on to the pavement near the top and crossed the main road to turn right then head for Broughton. I passed the Hoole Lane traffic lights where I’d turned this morning, and finally felt I was on the home stretch.
I turned right at the next lights then left for Whitchurch Road. After a mile or so a cycle lane appeared on the pavement on the left and this took me to the big roundabout for the A41. I used the pedestrian crossing this time as the traffic was a bit intense. Then a cycle lane alongside the Whitchurch Road made life a bit more pleasant. After crossing a railway bridge I was able to turn left over the Shropshire Union canal on to a series of narrow lanes. First Pepper St, then right into Faulkners’s Lane, straight on to Quarry Lane, and right on to Rowton Bridge Road leading to a left turn on to Whitchurch Road
again for a short stretch before turning on to Moors Road which led to a straight run through Waverton to the turn off for Huxley.
Once up the hill to Huxley, I had to run the gauntlet of the numerous road works with traffic lights on the route to Tiverton. I had time to stop and take a photo of Beeston Castle framed in a gateway behind the bike before pressing on.
With the following wind I arrived in Tiverton in good time and had a drink before continuing up the hill on a path alongside the A49. Thankfully, someone had trimmed the shrubbery here as on previous occasions it had made the path rather narrow.
On to the road where it levelled before Four Lane Ends to wait at the lights before the last series of climbs and dips to Eaton. The last climb felt tough but I just dug in and ground up it. Fortunately there was little traffic.
Finally in Eaton, I was able to turn right on to Hickhurst Lane. Down a steep dip, getting up speed to charge the last climb before a few miles of downhill and easy pedalling.
I passed a farm on the way and saw a couple of motor bikes parked with the riders having a conversation.
A few miles further on I heard distant engine noises as someone was giving a bike the beans through the gears and shortly afterwards it flew past me like a projectile on a long straight. No sign of his mate.
More screaming engine sounds were audible as he disappeared, and still could be heard on and off for several minutes more. I don’t think any of that was for my benefit, as some road users’ actions sometimes are. He was just out enjoying (and possibly frightening) himself.
I turned left into Winsford Road, then Hall Lane, and stopped for a procession of cows that were crossing the road.
Soon I was on the downhill to Darnhall Bridge lights, rolling slowly until the lights changed then getting up speed as best I could for the charge up the other side. I slowed down far too soon, of course, and found myself growling and mentally willing the summit closer. Short rides, long rides, this is always the sting in the tail coming back from this direction.
Once over the summit, gradually going up the gears for gentle pedalling for the few miles remaining to home.
The red legged recumbentist, despite plenty of sun block on my legs. An unexpected effect of riding these dusty rail trails in shorts has been that the dust glued itself to the sun block on my legs and stayed there until my post ride shower.
Another unfortunate effect of my first long ride in shorts was that I was bitten by horse flies on the legs while passing through Burton Marsh. While delightfully cool and airy at the time, having itchy, blotchy legs for several days afterwards rather spoils the pleasure. Back to long trousers next time, methinks.
The front Marathon Greenguard has worked well on this combination of tarmac and rail trail, quite loose and gritty in places.
Anyway, This was a trip from Cheshire through part of Wales, visiting Flintshire and Merseyside, managing a metric century + (for those who like to measure in km), and cycling more than my age in miles for the first time this year.
Distance 79.06 miles. Max speed 25.8 Average 8 mph . According to Cateye Velo 7.
Ascent 1479ft. According to Bikehike.
