StuAff
Silencing his legs regularly
- Location
- Portsmouth
Guildford's one-way system, which I have negotiated with some frequency in the last year or so, is certainly not endearing. Better than Basingstoke though...
FNRttC Manchester to Morecambe June 8th
- Thread starter dellzeqq
- Start date
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Guildford's one-way system, which I have negotiated with some frequency in the last year or so, is certainly not endearing. Better than Basingstoke though...
benborp
Guru
- Location
- further from Penge
Back in Donegal and about to get out of my shorts and into a bath.
Kim, the Garmin seems to have done the standard just out of warranty, spontaneous death that they're renowned for. I think water had little to do with it. I'll embark on a series of increasingly brutal resets when I have access to my laptop.
Kim, the Garmin seems to have done the standard just out of warranty, spontaneous death that they're renowned for. I think water had little to do with it. I'll embark on a series of increasingly brutal resets when I have access to my laptop.
Mice
Guru
The amount of times I checked and rechecked that I had my train tickets to Manchester/Lancaster and not Cardiff/Swansea defies belief!
I decided to take no notice of references to what the sky was planning on doing.
The problem with weather forecasts is that they are always right until it matters when you are outside in the middle of the night hundreds of miles from home with the wrong amount of clothing. To counterbalance this I filled all my jacket pockets with armwarmers, extra gloves, extra socks, extra tops x 2 and a selection of healthy snacks - flapjacks, oat biscuits, peanuts, raisins - reshaping my torso completely. It was less Haute Couture and more Oat Couture.
I met the train driver who helped me put my bicycle on the train. I then logged onto Cycle Chat and nearly had myself thrown out of the Quiet Carriage whilst listening to Rebecca Olds' link to Luka Bloom - De Roma - Acoustic Motorbike! Kylie's Spinning Around stayed in my mind instead.
Manchester Piccadilly station was full of life. The competition between Assos and "showing your ass off" with female Mancunians, Boltonites and Burynettes tottering around on 10" heels wearing skirts that were only 5" long. I'll swear that some of them were already in their jimjams. Although their eau de nuit was definitely 100% proof! But I could hardly talk. I was sober but I mean what did I look like?!
Soon all our trains had arrived and we made our way towards the station exit. It turned out that the noise Benborp had tried to convince me was a steam engine, was in fact very hard rain landing on the station roof. Out we went into it. We slithered our way to a Church where we found more of our party including Martin235 who had completed his mammoth Nelson ride. Excellent! Shortly thereafter we were complete. Although we were missing The Claud and Adrian to name but two supreme FNRttCers not doing this ride which was a big shame. By the time we left we were all soaked to the skin.
The cheers and shouts from foot stragglers and people hanging out of car windows is (nearly!) always amusing. The rain drizzled and drizzled. The wayfarers lead by Andrew Br guided us out of the city. I kept thinking I was going to warm up in a minute. I didn't. On we went, spinning a la ttcycle school all the way. After a while we regrouped under a railway bridge. I put on another layer.
We went up hills and down hills. The urban route showed no suitable Pstopsies. Eventually and thankfully DZ found a garage. When someone told me we had cycled 16 miles I could hardly believe it. I thought it must be at least 30. This was tough and it became tougher and tougher.
Out into the darkness, the rain hammering down, my glasses reducing visibility, the mist, the spray, the darkness of the sky at night, the cold and a full-faced-full-bodied headwind, I couldn't see anyone ahead or behind. It was the grimmest bit of cycling I have ever done. Then - sunshine - in the form of Susie arrived. Susie rode alongside me saying something like "well, these are the worst riding conditions I have ever ridden in. Isn't it horrendous? LonJoG isn't going to be like this". I immediately cheered up at hearing her voice, the realisation I was not alone and the confirmation that actually it really was tough. We just started chatting about stuff and I completely forgot about the wind and the rain. I actually started enjoying the ride again. Thank you Susie, that was completely selfless and exactly why FNRttCs are what they are. After a while we regrouped and I realised that my emergency banana was still on my handlebars a la User10571 and that this is the reason I put it there, energy levels had been reduced to nothing. I ate it and the ride was really back on track, retaining its FNRttC spectacular glory.
After Blackburn (there was an after Blackburn this time - hoorayyyyy!) the route to Ribchester was lovely as was the Stopsies. We weaved our way westwards, the red sky in the morning lit up the landscape and the countryside all the way to Morecambe was breathtaking. There was a narrow lane with high hedgerows that had a nosey brown cow gawping at us in amazement. Only its head was visible amongst the foliage. Either side of the fields on rolling hills, grazing sheep and cattle. Hamlets of houses, a mini Henley, the canals and old mills showing a reminder of times gone by. It was all so pretty it was breathtaking.
We made our way to the statue of Eric Morecambe for photo opportunities. A group of caterers started waving at us to guide us to their cafe where breakfast was waiting. Nothing was too much trouble for them. They even created a roped-off space for our bicycles. Thank you!
A trip back to Lancaster to be nearer the station meant we could take advantage of the cycling paths. We were on one for a little longer than expected - the P!"$"!£!"£ Fairy decided to take on a TEC. I don't think I'll mention any more about this (am just smiling, knowingly though FD....!!!)
Into a bar for a bit then the train home. I managed to stay awake long enough to deflate both tyres and remove at least 30 if not 40 small pieces of glass and stones from both wheels. I then (hello Ianrauk!) cleaned my bike. There was practically a hedge under the front brake caliper that was so big it meant I had to actually remove the wheel to extract it. My bike was absolutely disgusting.
I didn't have my camera so only my phone took this pics (they are even more rubbish than usual). I am about to start playing with my Garmin Etrex now that Kim has told me what to do so I may have some facts of my own!! If my camera had been working I would have tried to capture Landslide riding no hands along the canal path. It is quite spectacular as he seems to separate his legs from his body. At one point he leant sideways making his shoulders nearly parallel with his hips and he just kept going. If I seem jealous it is perhaps because I am! Not something I'm likely to try any time soon!
It was a great FNRttC - made so by the peeps who so willingly volunteer help, smiles and great banter. But especially by DZ and Susie who in terms of fantastic cycling experiences continue to raise the bar (and leave some suitably and hilariously under it at the end!!)
Rubbish pics here https://picasaweb.google.com/108733...=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCM3Li66Atuhb&feat=directlink
Mice
I decided to take no notice of references to what the sky was planning on doing.
The problem with weather forecasts is that they are always right until it matters when you are outside in the middle of the night hundreds of miles from home with the wrong amount of clothing. To counterbalance this I filled all my jacket pockets with armwarmers, extra gloves, extra socks, extra tops x 2 and a selection of healthy snacks - flapjacks, oat biscuits, peanuts, raisins - reshaping my torso completely. It was less Haute Couture and more Oat Couture.I met the train driver who helped me put my bicycle on the train. I then logged onto Cycle Chat and nearly had myself thrown out of the Quiet Carriage whilst listening to Rebecca Olds' link to Luka Bloom - De Roma - Acoustic Motorbike! Kylie's Spinning Around stayed in my mind instead.
Manchester Piccadilly station was full of life. The competition between Assos and "showing your ass off" with female Mancunians, Boltonites and Burynettes tottering around on 10" heels wearing skirts that were only 5" long. I'll swear that some of them were already in their jimjams. Although their eau de nuit was definitely 100% proof! But I could hardly talk. I was sober but I mean what did I look like?!
Soon all our trains had arrived and we made our way towards the station exit. It turned out that the noise Benborp had tried to convince me was a steam engine, was in fact very hard rain landing on the station roof. Out we went into it. We slithered our way to a Church where we found more of our party including Martin235 who had completed his mammoth Nelson ride. Excellent! Shortly thereafter we were complete. Although we were missing The Claud and Adrian to name but two supreme FNRttCers not doing this ride which was a big shame. By the time we left we were all soaked to the skin.
The cheers and shouts from foot stragglers and people hanging out of car windows is (nearly!) always amusing. The rain drizzled and drizzled. The wayfarers lead by Andrew Br guided us out of the city. I kept thinking I was going to warm up in a minute. I didn't. On we went, spinning a la ttcycle school all the way. After a while we regrouped under a railway bridge. I put on another layer.
We went up hills and down hills. The urban route showed no suitable Pstopsies. Eventually and thankfully DZ found a garage. When someone told me we had cycled 16 miles I could hardly believe it. I thought it must be at least 30. This was tough and it became tougher and tougher.
Out into the darkness, the rain hammering down, my glasses reducing visibility, the mist, the spray, the darkness of the sky at night, the cold and a full-faced-full-bodied headwind, I couldn't see anyone ahead or behind. It was the grimmest bit of cycling I have ever done. Then - sunshine - in the form of Susie arrived. Susie rode alongside me saying something like "well, these are the worst riding conditions I have ever ridden in. Isn't it horrendous? LonJoG isn't going to be like this". I immediately cheered up at hearing her voice, the realisation I was not alone and the confirmation that actually it really was tough. We just started chatting about stuff and I completely forgot about the wind and the rain. I actually started enjoying the ride again. Thank you Susie, that was completely selfless and exactly why FNRttCs are what they are. After a while we regrouped and I realised that my emergency banana was still on my handlebars a la User10571 and that this is the reason I put it there, energy levels had been reduced to nothing. I ate it and the ride was really back on track, retaining its FNRttC spectacular glory.
After Blackburn (there was an after Blackburn this time - hoorayyyyy!) the route to Ribchester was lovely as was the Stopsies. We weaved our way westwards, the red sky in the morning lit up the landscape and the countryside all the way to Morecambe was breathtaking. There was a narrow lane with high hedgerows that had a nosey brown cow gawping at us in amazement. Only its head was visible amongst the foliage. Either side of the fields on rolling hills, grazing sheep and cattle. Hamlets of houses, a mini Henley, the canals and old mills showing a reminder of times gone by. It was all so pretty it was breathtaking.
We made our way to the statue of Eric Morecambe for photo opportunities. A group of caterers started waving at us to guide us to their cafe where breakfast was waiting. Nothing was too much trouble for them. They even created a roped-off space for our bicycles. Thank you!
A trip back to Lancaster to be nearer the station meant we could take advantage of the cycling paths. We were on one for a little longer than expected - the P!"$"!£!"£ Fairy decided to take on a TEC. I don't think I'll mention any more about this (am just smiling, knowingly though FD....!!!)
Into a bar for a bit then the train home. I managed to stay awake long enough to deflate both tyres and remove at least 30 if not 40 small pieces of glass and stones from both wheels. I then (hello Ianrauk!) cleaned my bike. There was practically a hedge under the front brake caliper that was so big it meant I had to actually remove the wheel to extract it. My bike was absolutely disgusting.
I didn't have my camera so only my phone took this pics (they are even more rubbish than usual). I am about to start playing with my Garmin Etrex now that Kim has told me what to do so I may have some facts of my own!! If my camera had been working I would have tried to capture Landslide riding no hands along the canal path. It is quite spectacular as he seems to separate his legs from his body. At one point he leant sideways making his shoulders nearly parallel with his hips and he just kept going. If I seem jealous it is perhaps because I am! Not something I'm likely to try any time soon!
It was a great FNRttC - made so by the peeps who so willingly volunteer help, smiles and great banter. But especially by DZ and Susie who in terms of fantastic cycling experiences continue to raise the bar (and leave some suitably and hilariously under it at the end!!)
Rubbish pics here https://picasaweb.google.com/108733...=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCM3Li66Atuhb&feat=directlink
Mice
Attachments
gerwinium
Well-Known Member
- Location
- Greenwich, London
Thought I should sign up some time... Apart from the brakes, my Ixon had a failure as well in that it conked out around the halfway stop. As it was getting light anyway it was no big disaster. My (not so smart!) phone happily stayed in its ziplock bag and survived the journey without damage. I have a wallet full of soggy receipts and bank notes though...
Thanks for the great ride. I have to admit that I was pondering an early exit climbing up the hill after Bolton, but am glad I persevered and got to see the great descent into Ribchester. I also broke my cycling altitude record
.
clarion
Guru
- Location
- Exiled from Hyperborea
I was pretty much unconscious when Butterfly arrived home last night. Dopey this morning, but rode up with her to Covent Garden, bimbled around central London to Embankment cafe, which called me for lunch, then I went home via the stupidmarket (isn't it depressing that £100 of pretty basic shopping can fit in two panniers?). Just 50km in all. Now I'm absolutely knackered again. Lancashire was hard work, but I feel I got a reward for every bit of effort, not least cheating Longridge Fell. Last time I was there, I was riding along it, completely exhausted, and running out of gears on every one of the several climbs. This time, tickling round the end to Chipping felt like knocking a heavyweight boxer over with a feather.
Thanks are owed to various people, not least His Dellness, Andrew, Charlie, Martin and ttcycle, who wasn't there, but who has transformed Mice's climbing and confidence.
Thanks are owed to various people, not least His Dellness, Andrew, Charlie, Martin and ttcycle, who wasn't there, but who has transformed Mice's climbing and confidence.
Nothing, and I mean nothing one way system wise compares to the complete roadway abortion of the Grays Essex one way system.. none I tell thee.. none at all. It's hellish..a road to nowhere. d'ya get the picture?
not forgetting the level crossing.
Susie, Claudine and I went round the Magic Roundabout in Swindon last week. It really is called the Magic Roundabout. It is more confusing than Hemel Hempstead and that wierd item at the bottom of the A130. I just pootled on through and my companions trusted my judgement. Oops!
Landslide
Rare Migrant
- Location
- Called to the bar
Cycling is an adversarial sport.
Every time you saddle up, you're fighting, be it against gravity, the wind, pain, or that extra large measure of whisky. On Friday we fought the rain.
Offering up prayers of thanks to the gods of new waterproof jackets* and full-length mudguards**, I took a perverse pleasure in battling through the first couple of hours, as we were subjected to pretty much every available angle of precipitation. Had the ride finished at 2am, I'd have taken a bullish pride in having faced up to the elements and seen off their challenge. Unfortunately, rain has a way of forcing you into extra-time, and the next four hours turned into Chinese water torture***.
Despite all this, and bouyed by tea, butties and flapjacks, as dawn broke it brought the kind of pastoral sights that make these jaunts so worthwhile - hares lolloping across fields, pheasants peering through gates and a shelduck dabbling for breakfast. All part of a private showing, only available to those who turn up long before the rest of the world has groggily flailed at the snooze button. These moments of serenity also afford an opportunity to discuss matters such as the insanity required to ride through nights such as this, or the new X-ray optional extra fitted to new Audis****.
As we reached Lancaster, pain receded, rain became but a fleeting memory, and the cycle path to Morecambe was no farcility, but a road to redemption in the form of coffee and fried breakfast. Unfortunately I had to wolf this down and scarper back to Yorkshire quick-smart, with the result that I missed out on the beers, but despite the enforced sobriety this is a ride filled with memories that I will treasure. I'll be back for next year's edition.
Oh, and I'd just like to reiterate: Rule #9.
*I heartily recommend the Endura Helium in this regard.
**Cue Dell screaming; "Burn the heretic!!!"
***If the Chinese made a habit of making their victims wear sopping wet gloves and socks.
****On the upside, they allow drivers to see round blind corners, however due to limitations of Audi fuse boxes, this function isn't available in conjunction with indicators.
Every time you saddle up, you're fighting, be it against gravity, the wind, pain, or that extra large measure of whisky. On Friday we fought the rain.
Offering up prayers of thanks to the gods of new waterproof jackets* and full-length mudguards**, I took a perverse pleasure in battling through the first couple of hours, as we were subjected to pretty much every available angle of precipitation. Had the ride finished at 2am, I'd have taken a bullish pride in having faced up to the elements and seen off their challenge. Unfortunately, rain has a way of forcing you into extra-time, and the next four hours turned into Chinese water torture***.
Despite all this, and bouyed by tea, butties and flapjacks, as dawn broke it brought the kind of pastoral sights that make these jaunts so worthwhile - hares lolloping across fields, pheasants peering through gates and a shelduck dabbling for breakfast. All part of a private showing, only available to those who turn up long before the rest of the world has groggily flailed at the snooze button. These moments of serenity also afford an opportunity to discuss matters such as the insanity required to ride through nights such as this, or the new X-ray optional extra fitted to new Audis****.
As we reached Lancaster, pain receded, rain became but a fleeting memory, and the cycle path to Morecambe was no farcility, but a road to redemption in the form of coffee and fried breakfast. Unfortunately I had to wolf this down and scarper back to Yorkshire quick-smart, with the result that I missed out on the beers, but despite the enforced sobriety this is a ride filled with memories that I will treasure. I'll be back for next year's edition.
Oh, and I'd just like to reiterate: Rule #9.
*I heartily recommend the Endura Helium in this regard.
**Cue Dell screaming; "Burn the heretic!!!"
***If the Chinese made a habit of making their victims wear sopping wet gloves and socks.
****On the upside, they allow drivers to see round blind corners, however due to limitations of Audi fuse boxes, this function isn't available in conjunction with indicators.
StuAff
Silencing his legs regularly
- Location
- Portsmouth
Agreed it's awful, but I'm not prepared to go back to Basingstoke any time soon to see if it's worse or not....
redfalo
known as Olaf in real life
- Location
- Brexit Boomtown
Well, that ride was really something else.
But it was really worth it. I learned a lot on the ride (always carry some dry socks, who was Eric Morecambe) and especially liked the warm welcome by the staff of the Welcome Café in Morecambe who picked us up at the coast line.
(The only downside of the ride was that I left the pub right after Germany's lucky win against Portugal, to the big surprise of my friends....)
The GPS track of the ride is here.
But it was really worth it. I learned a lot on the ride (always carry some dry socks, who was Eric Morecambe) and especially liked the warm welcome by the staff of the Welcome Café in Morecambe who picked us up at the coast line.
(The only downside of the ride was that I left the pub right after Germany's lucky win against Portugal, to the big surprise of my friends....)
The GPS track of the ride is here.
Butterfly
Veteran
- Location
- Near Kidderminster
Although, to be fair, it was 3 a.m. so it was fairly understandable!
Mice
Guru
Thank you DZ and Clarion for your kind words. I thank my lucky stars that I have met such an awesome group of cyclists who through generosity of skill, time and spirit have made such a difference to my cycling. ttcycle's lesson on gears and spinning was fantastic - the absolute icing on the cake. It really has transformed my cycling and my gratitude for that is indeed immense.
I am stunned to read that you Mr DZ were ill and yet all the while guiding and encouraging us through what was in parts such a hard ride - including a hailstorm. Your level of selflessness is on a par with that of Susie's -and far, far higher than mine could ever be. I hope you are feeling better.
On a separate note do you think that the late, great Eric Morecambe was having a joke of his own with his "Bring me Sunshine" song the moment we headed to his home town..... "Not on your Van Nelly Mate...."!!
Mice
Flying Dodo
It'll soon be summer
The last time I went to Manchester was over 20 years ago, to see someone die in hospital, so I figured any return visit had to be better than that. And I wasn't disappointed.
The stack of bikes accumulating at the station grew slowly bigger as more trains from London (and other places) arrived, disgorging heavily padded cyclists, waddling like ducks. Which was a handy thing bearing in mind the volume of water we encountered later on. In fact, on the train up, whilst I was slumming it in 1st Class, eating my complementary food, drinking my free drinks, and flicking through the Guardian, I had noticed the intensity of the rain as it hammered on the roof whilst we were stopped in Crewe. The fact that everyone else in the station seemed to be half naked was a good omen I thought, as clearly it couldn't be raining outside. As we set off for the Town Hall (not a church, Mice), it was only drizzling, and I said (for what was the first of many occasions, to Ben's exasperation), that it must be clearing up. Oh how wrong I was.
The Town Hall in Manchester, as well as being the epicentre of the first nuclear free zone in 1980 (according to the plaque placed 15 feet up a wall near the entrance, despite the existence of a small reactor in the University apparently....) is of course a magnificent example of Victorian architecture. In fact the whole of the area is of similar epic proportions. To be fair, it is somewhat let down at ground level, with the garish nightclubs, full of the previously mentioned half naked people.
Anyway, off we went, weaving around the taxis, heading in a vaguely northerly direction. This part of the world is unknown to me, and I hadn't bothered to closely look at the map beforehand. Although it seemed like a lot of built up area up to Bury, it was (mainly) interesting looking buildings, and weird exotic types of fast food places, no doubt selling deep fried Northern specialities. The rain was slowly growing in intensity, or more accurately, increasing in its wetness.
After forsaking the delights of Bury town centre, we deviated away onto the A58 towards Bolton. At some point the rain changed tactics and became hail, but then it changed back to biblical proportions of falling wet stuff. There were rivers of water gushing down the sides of the roads, spray flying everywhere. At times I felt like Moses, parting the Red Sea with the volume of water being displaced by my tyres, so I was glad of my mudguards. Although I had 3 powerful lights on the bike, their light output seemed to be sucked up by the water bouncing around. However, tucked up in my Night Vision jacket, Altura waterproof leggings, overshoes AND most importantly of all, with my mudguards on the bike, throughout it all, I was smiling away. Because, as mentioned in a prediction several pages earlier, it was beautiful weather. Just because it wasn't a balmy hot night doesn't negate the sheer majesty of the weather we encountered. However, I did feel sorry for poor Simon, shivering away in his shorts, with only a thin jacket. Of course if he'd had mudguards on, I'm sure his back wouldn't have had the splattering it got.
After swooshing through Bolton, we then turned onto the A666, rather than go onto the backroads. I'm not sure such a road number is a good idea, as at around 2.30 am (I think), we finally got completely out into the open, when we passed a sign for the West Pennine Moors, and then we were truly in wild country, with the mist closing in. I did think of the advice for the travellers in the American Werewolf in London film at this point...... Although we had been climbing a bit and it got a bit undulating, there didn't seem to be any long drags uphill, so I was surprised (but pleased) to be able to fly down massive long stretches of downhill, such as 1.5 miles marked at 10% down - which was nice. By the time we got to Blackburn, I commented again that the rain seemed to be easing up, which it was, oddly enough. After 34 miles we reached the small village of Ribchester and the warm oasis of the half way stop. Although the rain had penetrated my jacket slightly around my chest, and my toes felt a bit damp, I'm sure without the mudguards, I would have been much wetter.
Setting off again, after 4 am, it was now daylight, and we could now start to see the glorious countryside. The tops of the hills were shrouded in mist/low cloud, but everywhere was a bright, verdant green. Being such a small group, we were never too spread out, so it was possible to zoom up the small inclines and then savour the descents, without worrying about loosing the tail end.
We edged closer to Lancaster and its magnificent castle towering over the town, running parallel to a canal which changed from being below us, to being above us. The castle grew closer, and then we zig-zagged through the streets of Lancaster, which is a very attractive town (in fact we got so attached to it later on, we zoomed round the ring road a number of times), before we crossed on the Lune Millennium Bridge, which was a very striking design, swooping or undulating along its length. On the other side, then there was about 4 miles of probably Sustran's finest work, being a paved cyclepath to Morecambe (which in fact is part of NCN 6 which also goes through my home town of Luton). It was along this stretch that I heard a "swish swish" sound which I felt was a small air leak whenever that portion of the tyre went through water on the ground. However it seemed to stop, and someone else thought it might just have been my rear mudguard rubbing slightly. All of a sudden, we were at the promenade, and although the tide was out, it was a wondrous sight, to see the vast acres of sand. The section of sand behind Eric's statue was even combed or brushed, although it's debatable how many visitors would have enjoyed it, bearing in mind how overcast it was. As mentioned above, the Welcome Café was very welcoming, and for a full English breakfast including tea or coffee for £4.50, was a welcome bargain as well.
Heading off again around 10 am, it was back on the cycle path when I heard a familiar "swish swish" sound, only this time it carried on, and my tyre started getting soft. I quickly dropped my bike to the ground (which it turns out I should have done more gently) and Simon helped me change the tube, although I hadn't realised that one of the tubes I'd picked up to take with me was in fact one from my "to be repaired" pile. Oops. So off the tyre went again, and this time the second tube was fine. However, in my haste in originally dropping the bike, I'd bent one of the mudguard stays, so the rear of the mudguard was now rubbing on the tyre. Thanks to Andrew and his adjustable spanner, this problem was then solved, and we could head off for a (mis) guided tour of Lancaster and an open Weatherspoon's pub. Brown beer ranged in price from £1.45 to £2.10 per pint. To avoid problems from Lager Louts, they sensibly price stuff like Heineken at £2.99! After staying there for a while, all too soon, we had to find our way to the station and London bound trains, and so ended a truly epic FNRttC.
For the sheer variation of urban bits and countryside, the views, the ambiance, the friendliness of the locals, even the quality and quantity of the water, I think this route is one of the best. In addition, we seemed to have far more downhill than uphill. It's just a shame that not more of the locals could be persuaded to come along.
Many thanks to Simon and everyone else.
PS Just for Kim, my SatMap GPS also suffered with the rain. The display stopped tracking at Ribchester. It could still display the map, and I could move the map to show elsewhere, just it refused to want to leave the cafe - which is understandable, as I guess it was afraid it would carry on raining.
The stack of bikes accumulating at the station grew slowly bigger as more trains from London (and other places) arrived, disgorging heavily padded cyclists, waddling like ducks. Which was a handy thing bearing in mind the volume of water we encountered later on. In fact, on the train up, whilst I was slumming it in 1st Class, eating my complementary food, drinking my free drinks, and flicking through the Guardian, I had noticed the intensity of the rain as it hammered on the roof whilst we were stopped in Crewe. The fact that everyone else in the station seemed to be half naked was a good omen I thought, as clearly it couldn't be raining outside. As we set off for the Town Hall (not a church, Mice), it was only drizzling, and I said (for what was the first of many occasions, to Ben's exasperation), that it must be clearing up. Oh how wrong I was.
The Town Hall in Manchester, as well as being the epicentre of the first nuclear free zone in 1980 (according to the plaque placed 15 feet up a wall near the entrance, despite the existence of a small reactor in the University apparently....) is of course a magnificent example of Victorian architecture. In fact the whole of the area is of similar epic proportions. To be fair, it is somewhat let down at ground level, with the garish nightclubs, full of the previously mentioned half naked people.
Anyway, off we went, weaving around the taxis, heading in a vaguely northerly direction. This part of the world is unknown to me, and I hadn't bothered to closely look at the map beforehand. Although it seemed like a lot of built up area up to Bury, it was (mainly) interesting looking buildings, and weird exotic types of fast food places, no doubt selling deep fried Northern specialities. The rain was slowly growing in intensity, or more accurately, increasing in its wetness.
After forsaking the delights of Bury town centre, we deviated away onto the A58 towards Bolton. At some point the rain changed tactics and became hail, but then it changed back to biblical proportions of falling wet stuff. There were rivers of water gushing down the sides of the roads, spray flying everywhere. At times I felt like Moses, parting the Red Sea with the volume of water being displaced by my tyres, so I was glad of my mudguards. Although I had 3 powerful lights on the bike, their light output seemed to be sucked up by the water bouncing around. However, tucked up in my Night Vision jacket, Altura waterproof leggings, overshoes AND most importantly of all, with my mudguards on the bike, throughout it all, I was smiling away. Because, as mentioned in a prediction several pages earlier, it was beautiful weather. Just because it wasn't a balmy hot night doesn't negate the sheer majesty of the weather we encountered. However, I did feel sorry for poor Simon, shivering away in his shorts, with only a thin jacket. Of course if he'd had mudguards on, I'm sure his back wouldn't have had the splattering it got.
After swooshing through Bolton, we then turned onto the A666, rather than go onto the backroads. I'm not sure such a road number is a good idea, as at around 2.30 am (I think), we finally got completely out into the open, when we passed a sign for the West Pennine Moors, and then we were truly in wild country, with the mist closing in. I did think of the advice for the travellers in the American Werewolf in London film at this point...... Although we had been climbing a bit and it got a bit undulating, there didn't seem to be any long drags uphill, so I was surprised (but pleased) to be able to fly down massive long stretches of downhill, such as 1.5 miles marked at 10% down - which was nice. By the time we got to Blackburn, I commented again that the rain seemed to be easing up, which it was, oddly enough. After 34 miles we reached the small village of Ribchester and the warm oasis of the half way stop. Although the rain had penetrated my jacket slightly around my chest, and my toes felt a bit damp, I'm sure without the mudguards, I would have been much wetter.
Setting off again, after 4 am, it was now daylight, and we could now start to see the glorious countryside. The tops of the hills were shrouded in mist/low cloud, but everywhere was a bright, verdant green. Being such a small group, we were never too spread out, so it was possible to zoom up the small inclines and then savour the descents, without worrying about loosing the tail end.
We edged closer to Lancaster and its magnificent castle towering over the town, running parallel to a canal which changed from being below us, to being above us. The castle grew closer, and then we zig-zagged through the streets of Lancaster, which is a very attractive town (in fact we got so attached to it later on, we zoomed round the ring road a number of times), before we crossed on the Lune Millennium Bridge, which was a very striking design, swooping or undulating along its length. On the other side, then there was about 4 miles of probably Sustran's finest work, being a paved cyclepath to Morecambe (which in fact is part of NCN 6 which also goes through my home town of Luton). It was along this stretch that I heard a "swish swish" sound which I felt was a small air leak whenever that portion of the tyre went through water on the ground. However it seemed to stop, and someone else thought it might just have been my rear mudguard rubbing slightly. All of a sudden, we were at the promenade, and although the tide was out, it was a wondrous sight, to see the vast acres of sand. The section of sand behind Eric's statue was even combed or brushed, although it's debatable how many visitors would have enjoyed it, bearing in mind how overcast it was. As mentioned above, the Welcome Café was very welcoming, and for a full English breakfast including tea or coffee for £4.50, was a welcome bargain as well.
Heading off again around 10 am, it was back on the cycle path when I heard a familiar "swish swish" sound, only this time it carried on, and my tyre started getting soft. I quickly dropped my bike to the ground (which it turns out I should have done more gently) and Simon helped me change the tube, although I hadn't realised that one of the tubes I'd picked up to take with me was in fact one from my "to be repaired" pile. Oops. So off the tyre went again, and this time the second tube was fine. However, in my haste in originally dropping the bike, I'd bent one of the mudguard stays, so the rear of the mudguard was now rubbing on the tyre. Thanks to Andrew and his adjustable spanner, this problem was then solved, and we could head off for a (mis) guided tour of Lancaster and an open Weatherspoon's pub. Brown beer ranged in price from £1.45 to £2.10 per pint. To avoid problems from Lager Louts, they sensibly price stuff like Heineken at £2.99! After staying there for a while, all too soon, we had to find our way to the station and London bound trains, and so ended a truly epic FNRttC.
For the sheer variation of urban bits and countryside, the views, the ambiance, the friendliness of the locals, even the quality and quantity of the water, I think this route is one of the best. In addition, we seemed to have far more downhill than uphill. It's just a shame that not more of the locals could be persuaded to come along.
Many thanks to Simon and everyone else.
PS Just for Kim, my SatMap GPS also suffered with the rain. The display stopped tracking at Ribchester. It could still display the map, and I could move the map to show elsewhere, just it refused to want to leave the cafe - which is understandable, as I guess it was afraid it would carry on raining.
