SUNDAY 21ST AUGUST 2011
The forecast was good, especially for a long ride, an all day affair by most standards. 200 kilometres of hard riding, reading the route, for those that know the areas covered, would be enough to put most people off attempting the ride altogether.
In truth I was hoping for just such a thing, a number of members had already found reasons, or excuses, not to be there on the day, so many in fact that I was fairly confident I would be on the town hall square on my own. A faint chance that someone may just venture out had me preparing maps and route sheets, not a lot, if not used they will serve for next year.
Being consciencous, I dutifully arrived on the square, good no one here, I can go home if no one turns up, five minutes to go and Brian Timms arrives followed by Bernard Nicholson on his stripped down carbon fibre bike. I look at the two bikes of Brian and Bernard, then look at mine, the pair of them probably weighed less than my saddlebag, a long flap camper full to the top.
Ahh well, we will not be riding together for long, Bradshaw would be the last I would see of them, from behind I must say.
Why oh why am I doing this, I must be mad, well you’re committed now, get on with it.
At Rawtenstall my front tyre develops a wobble, a brasted carcass causing the tyre to bump bump every revolution.
Out of my bulging saddlebag comes the spare tyre, a new continental folder that I have difficulty fitting, a very tight fit indeed. As I struggle with it a guy comes out of a house opposite carrying a track pump and a baby! It turns out he’s a cyclist roped in for babysitting duties, reluctantly it seems. Tyre fitted I use the pump so generously offered, a Blackburn, and it is so good the tyre is up in a matter of half a dozen strokes.
On my way again I climb over to Burnley and on to Fence and Barley where water bottle is filled and white powder added, secret stuff designed to keep you going. A morello cherry barm and a couple of fig biscuits are washed down and I am off to tackle the long ascent by the side of the mighty Pendle hill. The dizzy descent to Downham follows and I pass through the most beautiful village in England with nary a glance, not time to tarry, a long way to go.
Chatburn, Bolton by Bowland, and Hellifield are the next markers on route, Hellifield being the turning point from north back south. The real hard stuff starts here, Wigglesworth to Slaidburn, if theres a head wind it will be a killer. Fortunately the wind is rather docile, unlike previous years, but the terrain is still demanding. Tosside arrives just before Slaidburn and I notice the small monument in the village centre is dedicated to Queen Victoria’s jubilee.
At Slaidburn I meet a former club member, Peter Ingham, he was a sad loss to our membership was Peter, a real good social secretary. He now rides a motor bike, a sensible option in this district. A young cyclist listening in on our conversation was in awe of my route from here back to Bolton as I described, Dunsop Bridge, Trough of Bowland Quernmore via Jubilee Tower, a lap of the Fylde then the A6 back through Preston and Chorley. ‘Have you got lights’ he enquired.
I left Slaidburn fearful of the hill over to Newton, Bernard gave an account of Brian Timm’s legs burning here, mine were downright painful with the front wheel lifting on the steepest bit, the sign says 1 in 6 but I think it is steeper.
In to the Trough and I have to switch off my mind to the pain as I plug my way up the final push, even in my lowest gear, a very low gear I am reduced to less than walking pace.
Once over the top it is a madcap downhill rush to the valley bottom, at last I can appreciate the colour of the purple heather as opposed to looking down at tarmac, fearful of seeing how far away the top of the climb is.
The next challenge after a nice respite is the long slog up to the Jubilee Tower, at the foot of the climb is a very painful bit, I only found out today why it has always been so hard, a new sign declares the hill to be 1 in 5, no wonder I always find it hard, I thought it was because I was getting knackered.
Again the wind is quite benign, not as bad as expected and at time according to the twisting road, helpful.
Another helter skelter drop down from the tower brings me to my resting place, Quernmore, a nice handy bench allows me some comfort as I tuck into my packed lunch. Corned beef, fig biscuits (again) and a large banana, washed down this time with a bottle of chocolate milk shake, now you know why my saddlebag was bulging.
Suitably refreshed I set off down toward the flatland of the Fylde, the drop off the Lancashire fells being enjoyed immensely in the afternoon sun, a nice break in a fairly clouded sky rather welcome.
The Fylde loop presented no problems, again the wind that can blight this section was kind and even kinder as I reached the A6.
At this point I was going well and pleased with myself setting a good average speed down to Preston but all good things come to an end.
Walton le Dale was where my problems began, the stiff climb up to Bamber Bridge suddenly draining me, it didn’t help when a kid on a squeaky little mountain bike decided to race me, I hate kids on squeaky mountain bikes.
My next intended break was the bus shelter under the Morman Church at the top of the drop into Chorley. Another choc milk shake, another corned beef and tomato barm cake, and more fig biscuits. The rest had a negative effect on me, rather than being refreshed, as I got back on the bike, my knees, untroubled even on the severe hills on route, suddenly began to hurt, and I was going downhill. Boy did they hurt and I had no painkillers left, perhaps the pain will go when I warm up again.
He pain did ease a little but getting out of the saddle to climb was out of the question, head down and grit teeth and bear it, only a few more miles back to Bolton.
I made it to the town hall square, 6.55.pm. done it, another 200 k under the belt, considering that I decided four years ago never again, to have done it twice since is something of an achievement, after all I am pushing seventy four in six weeks.
By the time I get home I will have done around 130 miles and I know about it, a pint and half of milk two mugs of tea a snooze on the settee and I can’t get up, crawling upstairs I vow this really is the last time I do the club 200 kilometre reliability ride, any bets?
Report by Tony Bowles
