A blog I missed out.

100k 2013 , Should I or Shouldn’t I?

The first reliability of the year has arrived but I am in a bit of a quandary, my chest infection has eased off considerably but will I manage to get round the short but quite arduous circuit of the mighty Pendle Hill.

I made up my mind to do it and posted my intention on Facebook whereupon David Bisset, also a chest infection sufferer decided if I could do it, so could he.

On reaching the town hall square early  for the 8.30 am start I found two other early birds, Dave Bisset and Steve Garthwright, like me Steve was a little unsure about riding but as he is undertaking a short tour in June he is looking for an increase in fitness..

Eventually more and more arrive meaning a healthy number up for a certificate, it was also quite obvious there would be at least two distinct groups making the circuit of Pendle, the fast lads and three others.

The three others comprised of myself, Dave Bisset and Steve Garthwright, two chest infections and an unfit wannabe fit.

The selection of the two groups were made as we reached the bottom of the first long drag of the day, Bradshaw to the old pub at the top. The fast group disappeared up the road while we, the ‘liability’ group got together at the bottom with Dave the volunteer pace maker. By the time we got to the top I felt I need a pace maker of a different sort, the one that’s inserted in the chest. The downhill bit to Ramsbottom was more that welcome allowing recovery before the climb up to Greenfield where a little break was taken, and, the first appearance of the ‘Jelly Babies’.

Off again on the Rawtenstall to Burnley leg with nice downhill stretches, particularly the old Bull and Butcher one into Burnley, wow, what speed down here, it would be hair raising if I had any.

Through Burnley and the fast drop down past Barden Mill is suddenly brought almost to a standstill at the sudden rise over the motorway bridge. This hill has nearly brought me to my knees time after time, the annoying thing is it looks so innocuous. Steve battles up a little off the pace but as Dave says we’ll rest ‘til he catches up, the lad’s back with us.

We climb out of Fence up the short climb that demands a sudden effort to get round the bend near the top then it is nice and rolling along the lane before the dramatic drop down to Roughlee. A female jogger with a dog on an extendable lead is coming up as I career downward at speed, the dog sees me as a threat and lunges at the bike, boy, we both had a lucky escape. I think these mobile trip wires should be banned.

A bit more gasping and wheezing and Barley visitor centre is thankfully reached, break time. My huge saddlebag is packed with enough stuff to feed a platoon, apart from the two water bottles on the bike I have packed 3 oven bottoms, with jam, a banana, six chocolate wafer biscuits, two apples, a bar of chocolate, a can of coke, a can of recovery drink, all stowed in with spare gloves waterproof spare folding tyre, and that’s not counting the bulging side pockets of my Carradice long flap camper bag. No wonder I am puffing up the hills.

While at Barley my tight chest remind me I have foolishly left at home my drugs, namely my asthma reliever, gosh and I am about to climb alongside of the mighty Pendle Hill next, the very thought has me out of breath.

After a decent break I hand out the jelly babes again anf off we go, Dave for some reason or other is clock watching, having decided to score the longest time ever doing our 100k perhaps he is having second thoughts.

Leaving Barley we are immediately on the long climb out and just as quickly I engage ‘Granny Ring’, ok fastlads when you get to seventy five you too will be looking for Granny.

Dave is away up ahead while I, despite being at the side of Lancashire’s most beautiful sight see nothing but tarmac, glancing occasionally up the road at more tarmac wondering when the end will be in sight. Steve is behind me content to also engage a manageable low gear. At the top we are together again with another dramatic drop in front of us, the scenery in front of us is equally dramatic, the Ribble Valley and the hills of the Yorkshire Dales unfold before us.

All too soon the view is gone, descending at speed in the direction of Rimmington, another of Lancashire’s famous beauty spots, before we get there however another pig of a climb must be overcome, short but sweet as they say.

Now if you do not pass the white chapel with the sundial on the wall, you have not completed the 100k route, think about it you guys, did you?

After Rimmington comes Downham, truly god’s own village, a sight to be savoured and photographed too. The day may be overcast but the beauty of the village is in no way demeaned and we drink it all in as we take another short break and more jelly babes. As we pose on the ancient village bridge a guy who is a keen runner around here takes a photo of the three of us on the bridge with the attractive church high on the hill in the background.

Next on our Pendle circuit is another Lancashire gem that has hit the headlines recently for all the wrong reasons, without wanting to ‘speak’ about why, Pendleton village is such an attractive place.

The country lanes take us next to Whiswell, pronounced locally as ‘Wizzell’ and from here it is another nice easy downhill stretch to Whalley.

As usual I bomb down the hill with nary a backward glance, save for a quick look behind as we reach the busy main road we have to cross to continue the downward swoop, I am lucky, a break in the traffic allows me to cross safely.

On reaching Whalley I pause at a spot we use to regroup, out of my saddlebag comes the can of coke, very welcome it is too, and I drink while looking back up the road for Dave and Steve, no, they’re missing.

After a while I realise a problem must have arose and continue to wait, while gazing up the road a group of cyclists are heading toward me, are they among this lot. The jerseys begin to look familiar, Bolton clarion tops dominate and I realise that they are the ‘fast lads’, our lot, I am gobsmacked.

With shouts of recognition and cheery arm waving they carry on and I am left to finish my can of coke.

Eventually it is make your mind up time, finish the cokedeposit the can in the dustbin and begin to retrace back through Whalley to search for the lost boys. I have no sooner set off when two cyclists appear heading toward me, we pause again and the tale of the puncture begins, punctuated by the appearance once more of the jelly babes. Dave declares once more ‘it is the law to eat the heads off first’ before devouring the the body in double quick time.

Now we have the long laborious trundle up to Wilpshire after which another easy stretch into Blackburn, beyond then is the dreaded Bull Hill, what purgatory awaits today?

I have been riding all day with my pulse monitor on, the idea being not to over stretch myself on the climbs of the day, that went out of the window early, as early as Tonge Moor actually, never mind we’ll see what happens up the monster.

We are more or less together up to half way, at the cemetery the road kicks up a little more and I change down a gear, I think Dave was waiting for the moment, as my speed dropped he shot past with a whoop, the swear word ‘bastard’ never really left my lips but it was in my head.

I plugged on, ‘wait ‘til my chest infection is over Bisset and I have a few puffs of  salbutomol, I’ll get my own back’. Back to the trudge I check my pulse rate from time to time, jeeze I’m working harder than I do on a time trial and hardly moving, 182, 183, 185, and still rising, bugger it, just keep going. Steve has dropped off again but Dave has waited at the top so we once more celebrate the ascent with another jelly babe, head first of course. Dave pleads with me not to die yet as a bout of coughing besets me, wait until we get into town.

Now for the real excitement, the downhill rush virtually all the way into Bolton, a mere pimple at Dunscar bottom to overcome, as Steve said, in our younger days we would use our momentum and sprint to the top, but then that was a while ago. However it is nice to get over the last bump, the feeling of ‘I’ve done it’ is there even before entering the town hall square. We arrived back at 3.30 pm bang on, six hours after setting off, not bad when you consider all three of us had set out to ‘attempt’ the ride not knowing the outcome due to our own problems, chest infections and general unfitness. Taking stock as well of our leisurely breaks on route, we have done well on our ’Jelly Babe Circuit’

Dave treated us to a Costa Coffee as we recovered on the marble slabs while discussing our problems prior to the ride, we had all arose that morning with a ‘suck it and see’ philosophy, we had all succeeded.          

My year with the clarion, 2013.

So much has happened in the year and added to that is the fact it has passed so quickly.

As usual my year starts with a will to lose weight for the coming year, as usual that resolution fails within a week.

The Christmas festivities are out of the way but the sense of relief is short lived as we now have to look to ‘Presentation Night’, Clubman of the Year, Guest of Honour, certificates for reliability, awards, medals etc.

The advent of social evenings for club members, introduction of ‘Book Night’ lend lease borrow, Fred’s fitness talks, a really positive move even if we have moved into the den of the traditional enemy for our events, the conservative club premises at Bradshaw. This was largely due to Bolton Council’s price hikes for community premises.

Presentation night, it was a pleasure to receive Peter Lickfold and his wife Val along with Bury clarion in our first joint venture. The night was off to a fantastic start with news of Simon Yates winning the World Points Championship, warm applause greeted the entry of John and Sue Yates, proud parents of Simon.

Easter Meet at Scarborough, the annual get together of all clarion sections, a great meet this time, just wish more of our members would attend. The big news this year was the National Clarion membership target for new members was well above expectations reaching some 1200 plus.

After Easter I was beset with what turned out to be a viral chest infection that turned my summer into a bit of a cycling misery, everything falling to bits beginning with the club ‘10’ championship event, not that I had any chance of winning, but the fact of complete loss of any sort of fitness had me worried. A worthy champion emerged in the shape of Dave Owen.

New members have made a huge contribution to the club this year, new look Sunday club rides, Saturday programme, Southport evening ten mile time trials participation. All this and an eagerness to get involved in distance events and sportives, such enthusiasm augers well for the club future.

Sad news did not escape the club, our presentation night guest of honour, Peter Lickfold passed away suddenly and unexpectedly. This was a blow to many northern cyclists, the huge numbers attending his funeral was testament to the sorrow felt at his passing.

There was successful participation in the club reliability events this year, the 100k, 150k, and the tough 200k, despite my viral infection I managed to complete all three, I was hugely reliant on my inhalers, drug abuse? Boy was I glad to see Bolton town hall on completion of the 200k ride. 

Highlights for me came with the eventual demise of my viral chest infection, use of the prescribed nebulisers and relievers no longer needed. I was able to partake in a few time trials, three ten mile events and the obligatory ‘combined clubs 25’. The very fact that I actually finished the 25 was for me a huge relief, it was a precursor to my 76^th birthday ride to Arnside for a hostel weekend. I could now feel comfortable about managing the ride there and back, it was a memorable weekend.

Throughout the year I have kept in touch with John Mann, despite medical setbacks John has battled through and achieved a desire to get back out on the road on his bike. John dedicated himself to getting fit to do so by non stop use of a set rollers, a lesson here to those who decry the use of indoor trainers. Rides to Lymm, Knutsford and Croston, all on nice summer days, were a huge achievement, at eighty three years old this was a fantastic outcome.

The year ended with the usual manic organising of the club Christmas ‘do’. The downhill competition that precedes the Christmas lunch was hugely popular and prayers for good weather were answered with a mainly mild dry day. £100 was raised for Bolton Hospice by the raffle, supported generously by Geoff and Yvonne Smith.

The day ended for a few of us with coffee at the barn, a soaking on the way to the Doffcocker Inn, and a healthy slaking of the thirst getting there. Good beer, good cheer, another good year and here’s wishing the club many more of them.

Finally the members should offer a vote of thanks to the committee, without them we would have no organisation, no club events and no club, but here’s to the members who have made this year a success and helped to secure the club’s future.    

     

clarion track night

Clarion Track Night

(and day)

As usual track night was a hit with the riders, Fred Smith doing a sterling job of coaching again, the complete novices definitely getting the biggest buzz, as always.

For the beginner nothing beats conquering the steep banking with heart in mouth and a feeling of impending doom, then gaining in confidence to such a degree they begin to feel comfortable.

Even those with previous experience, the thrill and rush of adrenalin is ever present.

Fred is ever alert to what is going on as riders circle the magic boards, frequent shouts remind those that need reminding, they are under a watchful eye.

Two groups exchange the track, each having time on their own doing the exercises Fred has planned for them, something for everyone and before the night is out all look forward to the ‘one lap sprint’ as a finale.

One by one the flying lap sprints are taken, the beginners in line watch those completing their lap with great interest, wow, the moment of truth, the moment their induction is put to the test.

Times have been relayed by Fred to John Yates, father of the twins newly signed by top pro team Orica Greenedge. John, from Bury clarion, was down on the night as a spectator but volunteered to assist with the timekeeping and despite my plea for him to deduct five seconds from my actual time, he did not.

A great night as usual, all the thrills without the spills, as it should be but unfortunately not always.

The one disappointment was the low numbers attending, but there is always another day and more members wishing to ride the famous boards where so many international records and world events have taken place.

 Just one final note, as the event drew to a finish, I was collecting money, taking names etc, I found myself in a deserted arena and as I changed, one by one the lights were being switched off. Gosh I’d better be quick before I’m locked in for the night and out I rushed. It was only when I got home I realised that the club banner I had put up before the event, (see pic above) had been forgotten, oh my! Saturday morning saw me back at velodrome at 9.45 am. to retrieve the banner, to my surprise, even at that time of the morning the track was packed out with young riders, dozens of them. What a hit this velodrome has been since opening for the Commonwealth games.

clarion Christmas do

Well we got away weather wise very nicely today, you see I arranged for it to be nice and dry for the downhill competition, after all it was the final act of organising the Bolton clarion festive event. Everything went as planned, even the unplanned puncture of our elder member John Mann, you cannot have a clarion event without a puncture. On arrival at the Cherry Tree all I wanted was a pee, but as I entered the door all hell broke loose, manager, 'we start in five minutes' 'who's having the steak, do they want well done medium rare or rare', where's Chris Roach?, where's Rodney? here's the newsletters, 'we need two seats together for Geoff and Yvonne', after all that I finally made to the loo, ah, relief. I had thoughtfully taken three copies of the members orders so everyone could overlook the short term memory, one exception, Ray who managed a sweet causing the manager great consternation, it was like someone had robbed the bank, all was settled amicably with the production of four one pound coins.

I managed to get round with the rafflle tickets as sweets were being served and the members responded in a magnificent manner resulting in a £100.00 donation for the Bolton Hospice. Twice as hard as selling the raffle tickets is the folding of self same tickets, Mandy came to my rescue taking around half the tickets whilst I tucked into my by now cold Christmas pud. the lads around me also chipped in with the folding of the tickets. Time for the draw, as Bradley Wiggins famously put it on the Tour de France podium.

I pressed Yvonne Smith into drawing the tickets for the generously donated gifts, most of which came from Geoff and Yvonnes's shop, gracious thanks are offered.

Lunch over the party began to break up but a hardy few had plans to extend their Christmas festivities with the annual cycling booze up, traditionally preceded with a trip back to Rivi Barn for coffee.

On to the Doffcocker pub via Chorley old road in by now driving rain but as it was very mild it was not too much of a discomfort, especially for me and Charlie bringing up the rear on the long drag from Horwich to the crest before Johnson Fold from where it was a long freewheel into the pub yard.

Lots of beer and lots of cheer, it was a splendid end to another wonderful Bolton clarion Christmas event. Again, as last year Charlie and I were the last out of the pub, and began our wibbly wobbly ride home. Fortunately for me once onto the ring road I can virtually freewheel home, Charlie has a bit further to go but by now the rain had ceased so the trip was not at all bad.

For me the the headache is over, and reflecting on the day I can truly say it has all been worthwhile, again. Another great occasion, thoroughly enjoyed with a very positive charitable outcome for the Bolton Hospice, our adopted charity. Wishing all our members a very happy Christmas and New Year.

clarion track night

Clarion Track Night

(and day)

As usual track night was a hit with the riders, Fred Smith doing a sterling job of coaching again, the complete novices definitely getting the biggest buzz, as always.

For the beginner nothing beats conquering the steep banking with heart in mouth and a feeling of impending doom, then gaining in confidence to such a degree they begin to feel comfortable.

Even those with previous experience, the thrill and rush of adrenalin is ever present.

Fred is ever alert to what is going on as riders circle the magic boards, frequent shouts remind those that need reminding, they are under a watchful eye.

Two groups exchange the track, each having time on their own doing the exercises Fred has planned for them, something for everyone and before the night is out all look forward to the ‘one lap sprint’ as a finale.

One by one the flying lap sprints are taken, the beginners in line watch those completing their lap with great interest, wow, the moment of truth, the moment their induction is put to the test.

Times have been relayed by Fred to John Yates, father of the twins newly signed by top pro team Orica Greenedge. John, from Bury clarion, was down on the night as a spectator but volunteered to assist with the timekeeping and despite my plea for him to deduct five seconds from my actual time, he did not.

A great night as usual, all the thrills without the spills, as it should be but unfortunately not always.

The one disappointment was the low numbers attending, but there is always another day and more members wishing to ride the famous boards where so many international records and world events have taken place.

 Just one final note, as the event drew to a finish, I was collecting money, taking names etc, I found myself in a deserted arena and as I changed, one by one the lights were being switched off. Gosh I’d better be quick before I’m locked in for the night and out I rushed. It was only when I got home I realised that the club banner I had put up before the event, (see pic above) had been forgotten, oh my! Saturday morning saw me back at velodrome at 9.45 am. to retrieve the banner, to my surprise, even at that time of the morning the track was packed out with young riders, dozens of them. What a hit this velodrome has been since opening for the Commonwealth games.

What's in a menu?

What’s in a Menu?

The heading seems simple enough, what’s in a menu? Well a bit more than I bargained for as I made a bid to begin completing members choices for the extensive menu on offer for Christmas lunch at the Cherry Tree restaurant.

Constant eyeing of the list tells me that despite frequent posting there are still hard to reach members who have not yet indicated their preferences.

Bright idea!

Having printed a few flyers of the menu I decided that I would join the A ride on an easy Cheshire jaunt to Knutsford and hand them out to those who have not yet sent their details. I have in mind Dave Hession and Bob Hodgins, surely these two would take advantage of an easy ride.

I made my way to Four Lane Ends, not wishing to ride from the town centre and suffer the ignominy of grovelling off the back while wending up Derby street and St. Helens road. My recent diet regime has seen my weight soar thereby making anything of an upward inclination an acute aerobic exercise bordering on anaerobic.

 I arrived at the crossroads and was soon joined by Charlie Whittle, on his bike, surprise, surprise, as the night before he was adamant he would not be out on his bike and would only meet me to take a menu.

Soon other A ride participants arrived looking lean and mean, at least the downhill start to Atherton should be easy, well easy ish, as I had chosen to ride a fixed gear steed for the outing.

I had chosen a gear that normally would keep me in touch on an easy ride, high enough to twiddle in comfort and just about low enough to keep the others in sight on hills a fair bit less than steep.

Having chosen the ‘right’ gear I soon found even on the flat my knees were imitating the up and down cadence of a bee’s wings, others around me were pedalling at a far more leisurely gait, ah well, good for the ‘suppleness’, only trouble was I was feeling like I was in time trial mode. So much for easy paced winter tick over effort, much vaunted in the cycling mags.

 We followed the GPS to Knutsford via Little Bollington and Rostherne, taking in Tatton Park, sighting of the red deer with huge antlers adding to the attractiveness of the park.

On a morning that was expected to be foggy and frosty, I had dressed accordingly, lots of merino wool, base layers, other layers, top layers, longs over shorts, neoprene socks over other socks, overshoes and tucked inside of my shoes I had added little ‘hotties’, little sachets that emit warmth for a claimed five hours or so. As it turned out the morning was quite mild for strenuous cycling which meant that attired as I was I arrived at the supermarket cafe well and truly wet with sweat, soaked but warm.

After a nice break we got back on the bikes, as a precaution I had my painkillers and red bull beforehand, dicky knees, despite being well wrapped against the cold are troublesome after an extended stop.

The sight of Bernard and Mike on the front as we left Knutsford was an indication of a hot pace developing and so it proved, no prisoners taken. A couple of cyclists ahead in the lanes proved an irresistible target and the pace was upped accordingly. The cyclists we passed dropped into our wheels but later one of them shot past us then dangled just in front struggling to maintain his momentum, a motorway bridge quickly took his legs and he was back in the pack.

As we dropped down Broomedge at speed I extended my thoughts to Hollins Green, today had given me a more than useful bit of training, I decided to drop off the group and ride home at a more civilised pace, enough’s enough as they say.

I passed the word to Charlie who declared he would drop off with me but the only trouble was he had Danny Leech’s water bottle in his carrier, and Danny was up the road by now. Charlie began to chase and fortune intervened, someone up front had punctured so the group came to a halt, a bottle that may never have been returned was duly delivered.

With a smile on my face at the announcement of puncture, I rode past at a leisurely pace, much better than eye balls out stuff. Charlie joined me and much to my surprise so did Brian Timms then further up the road we were passed by Danny and William Cocker. The latter pair disappeared up Holcroft lane at pace while I sought the shelter of Charlies back wheel.

I made it back to Lovers lane where I left Brian and Charlie, I was on my own, I could now switch off completely. I know not why but when I switch off and ride more slowly, my legs begin to go on strike and I am reduced to a slow crawl, I’m sure this was not on the menu.

At Daisy Hill I decide to make use of the bigger sprocket on the other side of the back hub, surely the going will be easier, it was but only on the flat bits where I rolled along as if just finishing a time trial. Another reason for rolling along was the fact I needed to recover to attack the short but steep Meriden Grove, I have to keep face with neighbours possibly looking on, being on fixed gear of any size requires a monster effort to crest the top.

Phew, made it, and once inside a pint of hot milk from the microwave, wonderful pinnng machines are they, and a collapse into the armchair.

After several drinks of tea, coffee and hot cordial I eventually relieved myself and discovered the reason for my lack of ability to rotate the pedals, dehydration, the peculiar orange dark colour of my pee told the tale.

Though a cold day, the need to drink is still a necessary requirement, being over dressed, over worked and overheated I paid the penalty, knackered, allied to this state is of course, fitness, or lack of.

So you see I bit off a bit more of the menu than was wise, in future the post box may be a wiser option.                 

High-intensity interval training is time-efficient and effective, study suggests

High-intensity interval training is time-efficient and effective, study suggests

(a tale of two skin suits in the combined clubs 25 mile TT.)

Stretched Skin Suits, Stretched Stories.

(a tale of two skin suits in the combined clubs 25 mile TT.)

5 am. and I am groping for the alarm clock, can it really be time to get up, it’s pitch black outside yet and I am sorely tempted to get back in bed but manfully resist the temptation.

I move round like a zombie, I am in need of an urgent shot of caffeine and head for the kitchen and put on the fast boil kettle, ah that’s a bit better, the mug of coffee is doing its work.

I sit immobile in the chair, am I mad, have I really entered a twenty five mile time trial, slowly I begin to feel alive, of course I’m doing the time trial, I’m the carrot for the club members to chase.

I deliberately put my name as first man on the Bolton team, if I just lollop round it will make the others feel good as they pass, good for the morale to pass someone on a time trial, as opposed to being passed by anyone and everyone. Today I am the morale booster.

We have a good entry this year, nine in total, and as it is also our club 25 championship it should be an interesting event.

We’ll get to that later, I need my porridge now, boost the carbohydrates, follow it with my daily aspirin and a second mug of coffee then on to my ablutions.

Check bag, all packed and nothing forgotten, hopefully, load the car up, bike, turbo trainer and bag. I am now fully awake and ready to go.

The weather is fine but with a rising wind, the direction of which would seem to be favourable for the circuit, a tail wind across an exposed section that is normally a grovel into the prevailing westerlies. The course is not a bad one if you discount the terrible road surface in one particular section, the problem being it is a circuit and it’s two times round the block so to speak.

On the motorway I have time to plan my ride, just to get round the full 25 miles will seem like an achievement after a summer dogged by a chest infection that seemed at times to be endless.

Right, no heroics, just a steady pace that guarantees a start and a finish, ignore the fly by boys, enter the ‘zone’ and stay there.

The HQ car park is empty bar two cars as I reach Catterall and I notice with dismay the hall is not yet open, I am desperate for a wc, and getting more desperate by the minute. More cars arrive, the Bury clarion boys arrive, turbo trainers are set up then eventually the doors to the hall open  and I am first to dash in and pounce on the loo, ah relief!

Ian Littlewood arrives dressed in the same attire as myself, the red yellow and black skin suits of a few years ago, it is apparent that lycra has a wonderful ability to stretch, and stretch and stretch, Mr Blobby and son have arrived.

       

Albert Winstanley remembered.

What a fantastic day to remember Albert and his local 

favourite haunts. This year more cyclists beyond the 

clarion turned out to remember a local cycling legend. A 

mix of Bolton clarion, Lancashire road club and 

representation from a favourite organisation of Albert's, 

the Rough Stuff Fellowship, to whom much of Albert's 

archive was donated. The weather was all we could 

wish for, the crystal clear views from Affetside across 

the moors were stunning, the previous year was an 

absolute opposite with heavy rain drowning the event, 

but did little to dampen the spirit of Albert's memory. 

The route took in local lanes through Harwood Affetside 

and Edgeworth. In keeping with Albert's passion for off 

road tracks the rough stuff lane down to the back of

 Turton Tower was a highlight for some but not to the 

liking of some of the strictly tarmac boys. The event 

went well with a tea and coffee break at the cafe on the 

crossroads in Edgworth, here we had the unusual event 

of the proprietor taking photos of our happy band. A 

final teapot stop was taken at Turton tower, this was in 

keeping with Albert's memory rather than of necessity, 

the tower was one of his favourites. From Turton the 

group made their own way home after a really 

successful event.

 John Mann managed to add a real thrill to the ride 

dropping down at speed into Bromley Cross he 

developed a speed wobble that gave him a huge fright, 

he will strictly adhere now to 20 mph maximum when 

freewheeling.

Albert's memorial ride.

                                   Following Albert.

A nice easy ride round Albert's local favourite haunts, a friendly social ride that anyone can join in, you don't have to be a club member. Just turn up, you can be assured of a friendly greeting. 

albert winstanley memorial ride

Albert Winstanley Memorial Ride Bank Holiday Monday 26th August

Bolton clarion cycling club will be celebrating the life of Bolton’s celebrated cycling author, Albert Winstanley who passed away last year. Albert’s books were treasured by cyclists worldwide, his enquiring mind constantly delving into historical events and local history and linking what he unearthed to his lifelong passion for cycling. Albert was also a prolific contributor to the countries cycling magazines, his monthly articles sought and collected by touring cyclist eager to follow his travels. The Yorkshire Dales and the Lake district intrigued him greatly but he also had a passion for the emerald green of Ireland.

Living all his married life in Bradshaw also allowed him to enjoy much of Bolton’s surrounding countryside which he continued to do so until into his early nineties.

Bolton clarion invite local cyclists to enjoy a short cycle ride taking in one or two of Albert’s favourite places of interest.

Meeting at the front of Canon Slade school, (Albert lived opposite the school) from where the ride will commence at 10.am. the ride will progress through Harwood, on to Tottington road and resting a while by the Affetside memorial. A coffee break at Edgeworth will be enjoyed followed by a trip across the reservoirs, the Strawberry Duck inn bisecting the Wayoh and Entwistle waters. The ride will visit Turton Tower, much loved by Albert, after which the ride will conclude back at Bradshaw via Bromley Cross.

Attending the ride will be John Mann, a constant cycling companion of Albert’s for many years, John also featured in the many illustrations that accompanied the articles Albert so graphically described.

   

 On the back of the photo in Albert's own hand is written, 'Sir Richard Bernard Cuthbert-De Hoghton, the 14th Baronet of Hoghton holds my bicycle in the courtyard of Hoghton Tower'. This is testament to Albert's affable nature and being able to communicate with practically anyone.

Bolton clarion 200 k reliability 2013

Club 200 kilometre Reliability Ride.

The day of the club reliability ride was getting close, would I wouldn’t I make a final attempt to complete what has to be a supreme way of explaining the true meaning of ‘self flaggelation’.

For a week I mused, have I done enough miles, no. Have I got the fitness, no. Am I fit enough, no. What about the weather, it’s been very changeable lately with lots of breezy days and lots of rain.

I studied the local forecast daily and Sunday appeared to be favourable weather wise, with one big exception, the wind. Wind direction, and strength is a crucial component on this, our challenging reliability ride. Wind strength from a westerly direction read 20 mph, wow, add to that expected gusts of 30-35 mph. All this was expected to be at the strongest just as the stretch from Hellifield to Slaidburn was to be tackled. Past experience tells me it is going to be hard.

The first part of the ride should be partly wind assisted, Bolton to Pendle though is quite hard so any assistance is welcome.

I bade farewell to our super fit band of happy members at the beginning of the long sweat inducing climb from Bradshaw over to Hawkshaw, these days I am happy to do so. My own pace is much slower than theirs and I have only one thing to prove these days, can I still at seventy five complete the 200 k.

A few showers were of little consequence as the ride through Rawtenstall and Burnley proceeded and to my joy the wind direction was indeed of great assistance.

Barley visitor centre was reached and I looked for a water tap to fill my bottle, to my dismay the tap on the toilet wall had disappeared. Having another bottle as yet untouched I decided to push on and try again at Bolton by Bowland toilets. At this time the other Clarion lads began to vacate the cafe at the visitor centre, I wasn’t that far behind them yet, and was greeted with the question, ‘have you seen Chris ?’ It seems Chris having dropped off the back on the long haul up to Fence, a real toughie that one, arrived at the T junction and was nonplussed as to which way to go next, he guessed wrong.

I set off to tackle the next lung buster up the side of the mighty Pendle, all of a sudden a ferocious downpour of rain came lashing down, pain and rain on Pendle, boy, just what we need.

One by one the fellow club members passed me but as they regrouped at the top I carried on my merry way thankful of the swoop down to Downham, the prettiest village in Lancashire, thankful also that the rain had just as suddenly ceased.

With a fair wind still on the left shoulder the leg from Chatburn to Hellifield  was quite comfortable, a selection of a nice low gear and a steady plod was enough to surmount the steady climb. I paused only to fill my bottle at the toilet block in Bolton by Bowland, disappointed only in that half of the ‘white powder’ in one of the number of plastic bags secreted in my saddlebag , finished up on the floor .

Wigglesworth was reached and by now the dreaded wind direction was becoming apparent, I was heading into purgatory.

Purgatory began as I reached the open moorland, ok the steep bits were also hard, but I’ll struggle on them regardless of wind direction, the predicted thirty mph gusts were not far off the mark.

The war of attrition against the wind was briefly interrupted at Slaidburn, the sheltered valley which the village nestles was by now bathed in warm sunshine with visitors enjoying the country delights. Less delightful was the fact that the toilet block still has no running water, even the outside taps for washing hikers boots have now been disabled, I need a refill for my bottle and therefore left Slaidburn a little disgruntled.

Matters were put to right further up the road at Dunsop Bridge where the toilets have all facilities up and running including an outside tap ideal for filling bottles.

Bottles filled and suspicious white powder added, again with copious amounts of it finishing on the pavement, I sought the comfort of a bench on the village green to take a well earned break. I was just finishing a Snickers bar and watching a crowd of noisy ducks being fed when from the Puddleducks cafe streamed a full compliment of Clarion jerseys, Bolton clarion ones at that. Surprise, surprise, I thought they would have been in Chorley by now, service must still be slow at the cafe.

As I left Dunsop Bridge I passed the community centre and was surprised at the lack of custom at the tea room, even the car park was empty and just one bicycle propped outside.

As I began the rolling road that culminates with the dreaded pass of the ‘Trough’ something even more dreaded happened, cramp, oh no, as if the ride has not been hard enough. Getting out of the saddle and stretching the hamstrings seemed to alleviate it to some degree but effort back in the saddle brought it on again. A series of in and out of the saddle eventually led to it subsiding and I continued with my conquest of the Trough.

I use the term ‘conquest’ advisedly as the use of ‘shank’s pony’ in deference to ‘granny ring’ was brought into play for the second time today.

The swoop down the other side, headwind or no was sheer heaven and the next few miles were also enjoyed even if they brought me closer to the next big misery and delight of the day, talk about the agony and the ecstasy, the tower on the hill, Jubilee Tower.

Another short shank’s pony up the 20% start to the final ascent then it was a low geared crawl to the summit. There was a little more to see by now than the tarmac in front of me, the afternoon was indeed glorious, blue sky and fluffy white clouds that moved across the sky a good deal quicker than I was moving. Views across the Fylde in stunning clarity were beheld and as I did as a kid, inwardly declared, ‘I can see Blackpool Tower’.

My preference though at this time was a close up view of Jubilee Tower bringing to an end the ‘agony and the ecstasy’.        

A brief stop at the tower where I talked a lady into snapping me as proof I made it this far before the helter skelter descent to Quernmore cross road, where again a by now for me, a traditional resting and eating place before the final much easier leg of the ride. Incidentally, the husband of the lady expressed amazement at the fact I was from Bolton, so too were they, in the comfort of a car though.

Time to move my weary bones toward Bolton via the lap of the Fylde, despite the suffering of the mega hills being behind me, the knowledge that a blustery outward leg of the Fylde circuit may be life threatening, I was content to face it.

The Garage at the end of the Fylde circuit made a welcome stop to again refill water bottles and as refreshment, a litre of milk, a grand mix of carbs and protein. A couple of muesli bars and two thirds of the milk later I began the last leg of the epic adventure down the old familiar A6.

A final brief stop in the lea of the Morman church at Chorley before the easy drop into town had me thinking I was as good as home. As good as the nice easy drop into Chorley was it did not compare to the rapturous feeling I had when flying down Chorley New road at over twenty mph and hardly touching the pedals. Triumph over adversity never felt better, to top it all, the town hall clock gave me a big bong as I approached the town hall square signalling the quarter hour.

So eleven and three quarters of an hour after setting off in the morning I was back where I started, in a considerably worse state though, but after 126 miles taking on a route deliberately designed to live up to the title of, Bolton Clarion 200 kilomtre Reliability Ride,  it was hardly surprising.. Next year ?  

A return to Tarleton TT course.

A long while ago, around 1990, I rode two ten mile time trials at Tarleton, well I started but never actually finished either. First one I arrived at the last minute and the timekeeper allowed me to start, how far behind the guy in front of me I’ll never know. I reached what I assumed to be the turn but being no marshals I was confused, I did however spot a cyclist walking away from the island and shouted, ‘is this the turn?’ the guy looked more confused than me before eventually nodding his head.

I returned to the finish area not knowing exactly where it was but I rode past a group of cyclists but no timekeeper so I carried on. Eventually I realised I was whistling in the wind and returned to my van in despair.

My next outing on this course resulted in my finishing up in Preston’s accident and emergency unit having been wiped out by a car crossing the dual carriageway, little wonder it is more than fourteen years since I ventured back to Tarleton.

Back to my latest venture at Tarleton, the recent hot weather must have addle my brain as I for some unaccountable reason decided to have another go at the ten mile time trial based here. I was at least a little more familiar this time as I attended an earlier one, though not as a competitor, in support of our members having a go for the first time.

Dave Owen, Chris Roach and William Cocker all rode putting our club colours on show to great effect while I rode up and down the course to familiarise myself with it. As I was still suffering a long lasting viral chest infection, competing was out of the question.  

I arrived early to the signing on HQ but even so was allotted number twenty four so my start time was almost an hour and a half away.

Number one rule for doing time trials is preparation, methodically pack everything needed, having in the past managed to arrive without shorts, take heart rate monitor but not the chest strap, also vice versa to that, no cycling shoes, no cycling top. I as usual prepared methodically, bike, wheels, helmet, mitts, shoes, (matching the pedals this time) heart rate monitor plus belt, shorts, turbo trainer for warm up, boy I was doing well and set off for Tarleton with great confidence.

Having signed on, set up the turbo and began my warm up it wasn’t long before a heavy sweat required the towel from my bag, see I have everything, err, not quite. While getting the towel I noticed my club jersey was not in the bag, Jeeze, here we go again. After a rummage round the car it was again a case of , oh no not again. Fortunately I did have a cotton tee shirt, the one with the photo of Dave Bisset with swinging onions printed on the front, it would have to do, at least it had a club connection.

It was a very warm evening so riding in a cotton tee would be quite cooling riding in the light breeze.

Five four three two one and go, all thought of everything beforehand gone, me against the clock, as Dave Bisset often says, ‘I may beat the hour’. My thoughts were would I get round, as long as I kept my eye on my heart rate monitor to control my effort all would be well. Again fate conspired to defeat my intentions, in order for the wireless cadence to be picked up I had place the computer on the top tube just behind the stem, when in the tri bar position I found to my dismay I could not see it, I was flying blind. In the normal hands on hoods position the monitor was clearly visible and that was all I thought about, so much again for methodical preparation.

No matter, just get on with it, and so I did and let my legs dictate how I managed the pain. All was going well, no one passed me until just before the far turn, I point out that the far turn is not the half way point, though I was feeling as if it should have been. Once round the large roundabout I was at least on the return leg and one by one every man and his dog overtook me, either I was dying or they were flying, I manfully struggled on determined at least to finish and beat the hour.

The finish is down a series of lanes with three left hand turns at junctions, all well marshalled, and it was on one of these short straights I managed to find the only ‘big’ pothole on the course. ‘S aitch one tee’ I shouted loudly as the front of the tri bars went down on impact while at the same time I was passed by another competitor, either he was lucky or I was unlucky, the latter situation fits me like a glove.

Eventually the purgatory was over and it was with great relief I engaged the small chain ring, I had punched the heart rate monitor just after the finish, and back on the hooks I was able to see the damn thing though the reading was now of little interest as I ambled back to my car. I was joined by a rider who was quite pleased with his time, another PB, little did he know I was more pleased than him just to have finished. The couple of miles back to the car in a low gear allowed a feeling of pleasure to return, my legs were beginning to thank me for the wonderful respite.

Everything back in the car I now turned my attention to what I may have recorded on my invisible heart rate monitor, I was in for a shock, well two at least.

First was I actually finished under thirty minutes, I would have settled for forty five to be honest. Second, and this was a real surprise, average heart rate, 181 beats per minute, maximum heart rate reached, 189 beats per minute, little wonder when I got off the bike I was coughing, and coughing, and coughing. Had I been able to see the monitor while riding I would have settled for a heart rate of around 170, at that I should have been able to get round in comfort, well relative comfort. Little wonder I felt so much relief when riding back to the car. On reflection I think I must have been mad to enter but then again I suspect many cyclist are considered a little mad by others so I am in good company. If weather permits I may have another go, but next time I will make sure my monitor is visible, highly visible.

  

Chilly Ilkley - Mike Singleton Ride Report 4 August 13

4th August 2013 ‘A’ ride to Ilkley 7 of us set off for the ride to Ilkley with a slight chill in the air but that was soon alleviated as we ascended Bradshaw Road. The clouds looked ominous as we headed towards Burnley but we were hoping that the forecasted rain would leave us alone until 3.00pm by which time we expected to be well on our way home. Summiting the hill just before Burnley Karl appeared to be struggling a little so we asked if he was okay to continue as there was a tough days cycling in store, Karl assured us he would be okay & true to his word he managed the ride in stile. We passed through Burnley conscious of our white, Bolton emblazoned, shirts being spotted by the natives in the town where the Wanderers had left with a point in yesterday’s first match of the season, but we escaped without incident; maybe the townsfolk where still slumbering (or practicing their banjo’s). Leaving the town in our wake the sun appeared by the time we got to Colne & we were beginning to feel the heat, our route kept us on the main road, rather than the hillier route towards Lothersdale (the planned route had enough hills in it without adding more) & over the steady climb to Crosshills where we veered left then crossed the busy A629. This is where the real hills began, initially a short but steep rise up Priest Bank Rd, crossing the Leeds & Liverpool canal, then a very pleasant ride along Skipton Rd, with its gently rolling hills & magnificent vistas. We then passed through Silsden which also has a short but steep hill, before crossing Bolton Rd. onto Brown Bank Road which has yet another steep hill, this time of much longer duration. We waited briefly at the summit taking in the impressive views whilst we waited for all our gang to join us before making the long & fast descent to the main A65 Rd. into Ilkley. We plumped for the popular cyclist’s café in the small square in Ilkley; we knew it was the popular cyclist’s café because it was full of cyclist’s! There wasn’t enough space in the cafe for us all to sit down but this wasn’t a problem as the sun was now baking hot & the outside tables offered an alfresco brunch for 4 of our group. With bellies full & tales of our days ride exchanged with our fellow cyclist’s from Harrogate, who seemed rather impressed how far we had ridden, we did a short tour of this rather pretty & upmarket town before retracing our route out of Ilkley. The A65 is a rather busy road so to alleviate the traffic we opted for the very quiet lane that runs parallel to it (actually it’s a road… Ilkley Rd.), then through Addingham, followed by a right turn then up another steep hill before rejoining the A65, still busy with traffic but offering superb views of the surrounding Yorkshire countryside. This whisked us into the centre of Skipton which was buzzing with people, the main road closed to all traffic as it was filled with market stalls & I spotted another event taking place alongside the canal, again thronging with people. Skipton is a town that really has found the magic formulae for attracting people, it’s attractive, has lots of individual rather than nationwide stores & holds frequent weekend events making it a thriving town in these days when so many towns are in steep decline. Out of Skipton & onto more busy roads until we reached Thornton in Craven, where we turned right to Barnoldswick rather than continue to the previously visited Burnley (They were sure to be out on the streets by now). This route is really rather special, great lanes & fantastic scenery, but there are hills & lots of them, they might be relatively short but they’re steep, out of the saddle steep & the accumulated days climbing was beginning to take its toll, the descents are also rather technical ensuring that great care be taken at each & every twist & turn. Although our hoped for rain deadline had by now very pleasingly passed, the skies were beginning to accumulate clouds so we knew it was on its way. We were heading for Whalley where we were all looking forward to a refreshing cup of tea/coffee & a slice of cake but at one junction, where we turned right towards Barley, Pete expressed some concern that we were heading back to Burnley & all those hills we had just climbed were in vain. Uh oh, had the illegitimate device (GPS) struck again? Would we end up ploughing our way through a farmers field? Would we end up back in Burnley? ….. where I would now be more fearful of my companions anger rather that the Burnley hordes. I have to report that….. the illegitimate one is a little less illegitimate today . Through Downham, up more hills, then drop down into Whalley where we were undecided whether to go to the café on the main road or the usual Abbey, we plumped for the Abbey but once there discovered it was closed for the day. So, back to the café, which is now an Italian Restaurant! And they don’t do cakes but do expensive desserts. They do coffee, but it’s in very small cups, not cyclist’s sizes, & they charge extra for hot milk, me thinks we won’t be going there again. Anyway it was JUST enough to re-energise us for the climb home; as we left Whalley it was just after 4.00pm & we had still only seen the very odd flurry of rain so we were very pleased with the day’s weather, it didn’t in fact rain properly until we reached Blackburn & it had stopped by the time we reached Darwen. At this point Richard decided to take a short rest & head home afterwards at his own pace, a tough day for all but more so for Richard who has only recently rejoined our ‘A’ rides… well done Richard. The rest of us continued up Bull hill & down Blackburn Rd., where it began to rain again, heavily, we then gradually all went our separate ways, I rode alongside the Iron men for half a mile along Chorley Old Rd. (I don’t think the crowd were cheering me) as I neared my turn-off. 101 miles recorded, 6,660 feet ascended which now holds the record for the hilliest Clarion route during my membership. A cracking days cycling, great scenery, LOTS of hills, smashing company, fantastic weather, what more could you ask for?

A Cheshire jaunt with John Mann.

Had a ride out to Cheshire with John Mann today and it turned out to be a great relaxing few hours. A strong breeze favoured a ride into it and so dictating an easy ride on the return leg. The forecast was for a nice mixed day but to expect sudden heavy showers here and there, fortunately for us, none came our way. The lanes were a delight and as we neared Bollington it was decided to carry on and visit Tatton Park entering via the Knutsford entrance. What we did not know was today was the first day of the Tatton Flower Show and we were soon engulfed in standing traffic queues. We took great delight in passing standing and slow moving cars, overtaking them with great aplomb. We reached the Knutsford end with no difficulty at all and again whizzed passed cars queuing for the car parks. We left the park at the Rostherne exit and found the village was out of bounds to the show traffic so we rolled along at leisure enjoying traffic free lanes back to Agden and Bollington. The weather was just perfect, sunny and warm with enough broken cloud set in deep blue skies to accentuate the lush greenery of the Cheshire landscape. We went down to Bollington past The Swan with Two Nicks pub and Bollington Mill crossing the tight narrow footbridge over a rapid flowing river, the water rushing over the weir indicating someone had had heavy rain overnight.
Passing Dunham Massey Park gates we took the next left and headed for Red House Farm tea room, this was a first for John, he had only ever seen it mentioned on club runs lists. I on the other hand have frequented the place many times and had a reason for wanting to visit again. The cream teas, wow, they are just devine here, nice scones, nice jam, and served with delicious genuine clotted cream, I salivate as I write, mmm.

Back on the way home from here I promised John another treat, a rare experience, so rare it defeats short term memory loss we oldies are prone to. The big treat is, a strong tail wind up the normally fatiguing 'Holcroft Lane', the scene of many " Leave me, I'm dying" scenarios. And what a treat it was, rolling along almost without effort resisting the urge to engage the 'big ring', not that I could have done anyway being on a low fixed gear. I was content to twiddle along as was John also in a comfortable gear, two contented old codgers enjoying a day in Cheshre.