13/4/24
Spirit Recumbent to Deeside
It was tempting to go on the Linear Recumbent for the first long ride of this year but it has already proven to be comfortable for long trips and I wanted to evaluate the Spirit. The longest trip it’s done since I’ve had it is 33 miles and I’ve made a few changes since then. I’d been thinking for a while about combining a ride on the Shropshjre Union canal towpath with one on the Chester Greenway and Dee path so as it had rained a little this morning then changed its mind I decided to take the plunge. The weather has been grim recently and I’ve been going stir crazy. Shopping trips have been all very well but I can’t believe that it’s now April and I haven’t got my recumbent legs built up for any tourlets that I might do later this year.
From Home to Egg Bridge
I’d swapped the tools, pump and spare 20” tube over last night, and added my elderly Aldi orange rain jacket. It was spitting a bit, and wasn’t very warm, so I wore it. I left the mean streets behind and headed out into the countryside.
As soon as I left the shelter of the houses a noticeable headwind was in my face. I plodded on. I wasn’t expecting a stellar performance for my first long ride this year. Something didn’t feel quite right though, and I imagined it was just the difference between this bike and the Linear which I’d used a few days ago to nip to the shops. Still, the reach to the bars didn’t feel quite right, and my legs seemed more feeble than usual. I came to the traffic lights at Darnhall Bridge and rolled down the dip with fingers covering the brakes, and magically the lights changed, letting me pedal furiously down the dip and a fair way up the other side before I had to go down through the gears. I felt much better after that, and pushed on steadily against the wind.
Soon I came to the right turn to Hickhurst Lane, then right into King’s Lane. Despite the wind I felt that I was doing better than I usually did here, coming to the beginning of the old brick wall on the right which surrounds Oulton Park. I knew that once I’d got up this last bit of uphill it levelled off, and I could turn right into Rushton Lane for a swoop downhill alongside the wall for a space before going left into Brownhills Road. And so it was. There is a maze of lanes hereabouts but with a bit of local knowledge it is a good through route.
As I was pedalling along Brownhills Road I heard a tractor behind and as I could see the turn off from Rushton Lane in the mirror I kept an eye out, hoping that it would go past. Sure enough, a vast tractor and trailer turned into the lane behind me, filling it. I put on a burst of speed until I could turn into a shallow field gateway so he could pass. It was tight, but he went past. I followed it to the next crossroads which was awkwardly bounded by high hedge banks but got across to Oulton Mill Lane with another swoop through to Cotebrook. Here I crossed the A49 uphill then across another road to Utkinton Lane.
The uphill start was awkward and I didn’t get into gear early enough beforehand. The rear derailleur jumped on starting off, I heaved on the bars, which moved slightly, and I wobbled to a halt in Utkinton Lane. I pushed into a farm entrance to check things out and tighten any loose bolts. I was feeling warm, and expected to get a lot hotter climbing this hill, so as it was now dry I took my rain jacket off. I started off up the hill again, thinking how steep it was, and how much easier it was last time. I’d been riding a lot further and more often the last time I came this way, so I put it down to the state of my legs today. I remembered that I’d stopped a couple of times last time, was not going to stop today. Even though I was in the bottom range of the hub gear, I steadily puffed up the long steep hill. The lane is quite narrow in places, but what little traffic there was gave me plenty of room.
The summit arrived sooner than I’d anticipated, followed by a long dip and a climb again to Utkinton Hall. A short climb, then across a crossroads and welcome cooling downhill into the wind for a few miles, another crossroads then mostly level to Duddon. It seemed to take a long time to reach this point. Straight across the A51 to Duddon Hook Lane, the road to Waverton. Despite being downhill a strong wind caused me to have to pedal steadily, and even more so on the uphill bits. In fact it seemed like hard work. I was ready for a break by the time I reached Egg Bridge at Waverton. Fortunately there were some benches down by the canal which the bridge crosses.
I looked at the map as I nibbled a Kit Kat. Brown Route NCN 45 follows the canal here. Last time I came this way I followed the canal en route to Clotton, finding that the surface became difficult a short distance in that direction. I took a gamble that it would be much better between here and Chester. If not, it wouldn’t be difficult to get on to the A41 to reach the City.
I checked the seat adjustment and found that the recline had gradually increased over a period of weeks while I’d been riding it. I tightened up the quick release then reset it to be more upright which immediately felt more comfortable.
Waverton to Tower Wharf
I repacked my stuff then set off under the bridge towards Christleton. Not too many people about, and the surface was tarmac. It varied in smoothness and width but was perfectly rideable. From Christleton into Chester the surface is particularly good, and I’m told that this continues to the end of the canal at Ellesmere Port.
Bridge near Christleton
At Christleton is the first in a series of locks which lower the canal to the level of the city centre. There are: Christleton, Greenfield, Tarvin, Chemistry, and Hoole Lane locks, between 8ft 3in and 9ft each. Northgate locks give a giddying drop or rise of 32ft. These are staircase type locks, each one leading into the other with no pound in between. Northgate bottom lock is the last one before the basin locks at Ellesmere Port, maybe eight miles by boat. There were originally five locks here, leading directly to the River Dee. The layout changed when the direct link to Ellesmere Port and the Mersey was established.
After the effort of the ride to Egg Bridge the leisurely, level ride with the occasional downhill at the locks was like an unexpected gift.
After passing under the A55 and A41 the buildings of Chester closed in. Crowds of walkers were about, pubs and bistro bars abounded, with pavement tables facing the canal. I was hoping to find a chip shop away from the centre, for better prices, so I trundled on, under low bridges, past increasing crowds of people.
Where the canal meets the city wall, with King Charles' tower prominent in the upper right. It is said that he watched the defeat of his army from there during the English Civil War.
Eventually I left the crowds behind as the canal continued through a man made canyon, shops and cafes high above across the water, the city walls vertically above the towpath. This was originally a moat, part of the city’s defences, entrepreneurially appropriated by the canal company to solve the problem of bringing the canal close to the Dee. It became narrow, with bare rock to the left, water to the right.
I heard a whirring behind me so I went forward to find a place for them to pass. I came out at the top of Northgate Locks, and a Deliveroo rider hurried past.
At Northgate locks a road, a railway, and the canal pass each other at different levels in a confined space.
After bumping downhill to the bottom of the locks I followed the towpath sharp right to Tower Wharf and continued beyond to a bridge where I got on to a road. Although the road access had steps, there was a trough to one side where you could place your bike wheels and climb them while wheeling your bike.
Eventually I failed to find a chippie so made do with a sandwich and some bits and pieces from an Asda Express.
Chester Greenway
I took the supplies and followed a pavement cycle path back to where I’d earlier passed under the Chester Greenway. There was an access ramp which I climbed and headed towards Connah’s Quay. The Greenway was busy with walkers and cyclists, and being quite high up on open ground quite exposed to the wind. I found a sheltered spot and a bench somewhere near Blacon and ate my sandwich. Many cyclists went by while I sat there, many of them women. Most of the traffic was heading west.
Re energised, I continued my battle with the wind, passing the site of Blacon station, then crossing the A550 via a high bridge at the site of the former RAF Sealand. There are several traffic lanes on this road at this point, hence the modern bridge. Many of the distinctive 1930s -expansion era MOD-Georgian buildings of the former RAF base still exist, perhaps having listed building status.
It was very windy on that bridge, and I was glad to get down to ground level again on the other side.
Rolling into the wind, passing walkers, being passed by other cyclists, the Greenway gradually turned left towards the Dee. I kept passing a family group, cycling along with kids who stopped from time to time then passed me before stopping further along.
The Greenway came to Hawarden Bridge Station where the original junction must have been. Trains came and went as I approached. Before reaching Hawarden Bridge the trail branched off to follow the Deeside Way. I noticed that my average speed after all the towpath riding and headwind pushing had dropped to 6.4 mph, and from experience I knew that it would take a long time to push it up to anything respectable again.
Back Along the Dee to Chester
Apart from the occasional bridge this was dead straight for several miles towards Chester. With a strong following wind progress was good, and the few cyclists I met were also bowling along. Nevertheless, the mostly featureless scenery gave the illusion of making no progress. The horizon remained at a point where the trail became a speck. The only changes of scenery were in passing through barriers to cross over a couple of roads to rejoin the trail on the other side.
The Dee was smooth at first but getting closer to Chester waves were visible, some of them breaking white. I saw something light coloured bobbing about in the waves. It turned out to be a mostly submerged seabird, as after a while, first wings, then a body emerged from the crest of a wave and launched itself into the wind. It flew slowly backwards until it had gained height then flew diagonally away. Perhaps it’s a part of a successful fishing strategy.
The trail curved gradually to the left and the buildings of Chester became visible. More features appeared and more walkers.
The trail came to a small park then joined a road. I followed the road until it crossed a stretch of canal. This looked like the Dee arm of the Shropshire Union so I crossed the road to follow it inland. After some climbing and after crossing a bridge I came to Tower Wharf.
Telford's Warehouse, now a pub.
I sat on a bench out of the wind and chilled for a bit. I was feeling rather windswept after my Deeside excursion. There were pigeons everywhere, the males amusingly and irridescently puffing themselves up and strutting about proclaiming, “look at me, I’m so gorgeous” (which they were) and the females studiously pretending to ignore them.
Back to Egg Bridge
My route home was straightforward from here, a mirror of my trip out, mostly downwind, I hoped. Despite a few spots of rain earlier on it had been a dry journey. OK then, next stop Egg Bridge, Waverton.
There were many more people about on the way back, involving a lot more stopping and starting but that suited me as I could conserve my energy for the road part of my ride after Waverton. All the locks were uphill in this direction. Slow but steady progress. Even outside the city, groups of dog walkers abounded, causing me to stop from time to time.
Eventually I reached Egg Bridge and stopped on a bench for a snack.
Waverton to Home
On the road again I made good progress. The downhills were fast, the uphills were pretty good too. I recalled from last time that the climbs were easier from this direction. A stripped down cyclist, no mudguards, passed me saying “Hello again” (must have met him in passing earlier in the day).
I could see clouds darkening in my mirror and I hoped that I could keep ahead of the worst of it. I caught glimpses of a slow flashing high intensity light far behind, slowly getting closer. Who did this guy think he was, a low flying helicopter pilot? The rain caught me before he did, like a bucket of cold water in the back of the neck, then my trousers rapidly becoming a darker shade of grey. I was sizing up a copse of trees on the other side of the road to shelter under and get my rain jacket on when the other rider steamed by. He didn’t look happy. Maybe he’d hoped to beat the rain home. He had a blue puffer gilet on which didn’t look very rainproof. “Hi! How’re you doing?” he said as he went by. “Getting a bit moist” I replied. He went on, muttering to himself, while I dived into a perfectly sized space under some dense trees. The rain came down like a car wash outside while I struggled into my top. It wasn’t too bad under there, so I waited for a while for the worst of it to pass.
I had covered more ground than I'd thought, and was only a mile or so from Duddon. Before long I crossed the A51 into Willington Road. It was slightly downhill then level for a while before the uphill began. I was already getting warm in my rain jacket but as it was still raining I didn’t want to take it off yet. The boil in a bag effect was increasing. I passed one crossroads and knew that it would get steeper before the next one when it would ease off. A stripped down sporty cyclist sped cheekily past, and I stopped to let the breeze cool me a bit. I carried on another mile or so but as the rain had eased I decided to stop and take my jacket off. As I was wrestling to get the damp sleeves over my mitts another cyclist stolidly rode by, saying, “all right?” before disappearing uphill. I felt much better with the jacket off and before I knew it I’d reached the next crossroads.
The slope was much easier after this and soon I was heading downhill to pass Utkinton Hall. Another minor climb then I was at the summit, determined not to touch the brakes until I reached the A49 at Cotebrook.
Once across the A49 I struggled a bit with the slight uphill on Oulton Mill Lane but once across on to Brownhills Road the trend was downhill and downwind. Rushton Lane, King’s Lane, Hickhurst Lane. I could feel myself fading but it was too easy to keep pedalling in high gear, eager to see 50 miles appear on the Garmin for the first time this year, and for the first time on this bike. Press on-itis exemplified. Eventually I stopped in a farm entrance, later than I should have, suffering the dreaded bonk, fishing for a choc bar in my bag, with a sudden onset of aches and pains and weariness. I leaned on the bike with its stand down for a few minutes while the choc bar worked its magic. Only a few miles left to do, feeling a lot better. I carried on steadily to the downhill before Darnhall bridge lights, hoping for the green, to carry some momentum up the other side. I came to a stop in high gear. I wondered if I had enough steam to get up the other side, feeling like a wet lettuce. The lights turned green, so I gave it a go. A rush of speed downhill, then fading away uphill. Down, down through the gears as the slope steepened. I came to a halt. This is always the sting in the tail of any journey, returning in this direction.
The imp of the perverse whispered in my ear, go on, get off and push, nobody’s about to see. I sat for a minute or two. Nobody came by. Then I deployed the ultimate weapon. The ability to change to bottom with a hub gear, at a standstill. It’s nominally got a 16” bottom gear. I tentatively pushed off and got rolling easily. I just carried on, changing up as the slope eased and once I reached the level road the following wind did the rest.
Getting home from there was undramatic. Through the back gate, unload bike, cold drink, shower. An actual half century on this “urban recumbent”. The next one will be easier. This bike is quite well suited to the surfaces encountered today.
Miles 53.38. Max 22.2 mph. Average (including a lot of towpathery) 6.8 mph. According to Garmin. Curiously, the Garmin showed an altitude of minus 80 feet while in Chester. I hope that the other readings are more dependable than that. Ascent 1217 ft. According to Bikehike.
