Is summer really here?

A couple of really nice days

It was with some disbelief that finally we were about to experience at least two days of summer weather starting on Saturday the 25th May. Friday, the 24 was bright enough, lots of sunshine in our area but the winds were so strong it would have been foolhardy to venture out on a bike, well at my age anyway and it was so cold.

Saturday morning arrived, true to the forecast and the wind was a gentle summer breeze, a little cool early morn but you just knew we would feel the warmth of the sun eventually. 

I went into town on my shopping bike, fixed gear of course, suitably attired in fancy cycling pants and short sleeves, principally I was out to collect my pension, Monday being a bank holiday the post office is closed.

Once in town the sun truly was all that had been promised and I joined the happy shoppers enjoying the warmth of the precinct. Short sleeve tops, summer dresses were abundant and as the morning wore on the happy band of shoppers multiplied. 

By mid day the town hall square was teeming, the town hall steps being utilised as seats by young and old alike, for those able to remember the good old days, it was reminiscent of 'WakesWeek', otherwise known as 'Bolton Holidays'.

I did a bit of shopping, did a bit of reading bike mags in Smiths then I actually purchased one, the new edition of Cycling Plus, I had to buy it, it was in a sealed wrapper, somebody's getting wise.

Eventually my thoughts turned to the 'Giro' so I packed my small panniers with the shopping taking care that the Jelly Babies were not squashed, my plans for Sunday included these sweets as my major sustenance. It seems three jelly babies are equal to one of the modern Gels on offer in a multitude of guises, energy, carbohydrate, protein and recovery. Having read that one gel should be consumed every twenty minutes, a six hour ride could be as expensive as bed and breakfast at £1.00. plus for each gel. At ninety nine pence a pack the jelly babies are indeed more than a childish attraction.

I release my locked bike from the lamp post at the front of Smiths and make my way back home up the Middlebrook trail that by now is quite busy with walkers and bikers, one of whom is Bill McFadden, enjoying this truly first day of summer.
A busy afternoon is ahead, feet up and watch the Giro, well it is busy if you are jumping up and down, and after that a brief outing with the flymo and strimmer attacking the overgrown grass that all the rain encouraged to grow. Sweep up, fill the green bin with cuttings and grass, oh my backache, ouch!!
I hope to recover of course during the evening watching the all German Euro Cup Final, boy what a match that turned out to be, an end to end cliff hanger, as a neutral it was a case of may the best side win, as it turned out they both deserved to win.
Sunday morning arrived in a burst of sunlit glory, one of those good to be alive days when you throw the door open and drag lungfuls of fresh air in then set about preparations to get out on the bike.
Not for me the hills of west Yorkshire, I'll leave that to the lads on the A group ride, though they will certainly have the weather for a very scenic route, bombing round that course will be very hard.
For me will be a nice easy ride out to the coast, Southport, the proud boast of 'Sunny Southport' will live up to the advertising today.
I prepare two bottles for the trip, along with the jelly babies I should have energy to get round ok. Heart rate monitor strap is donned, I'm determined not to burn out by working too hard, I had enough of that last week tackling the hills of Pendle, steady state cycling will be the focus today.
Right dressed and ready to go, into the garage for my steed for the day, the fixed gear On One Pompino. Immediately there's a draw back, I have only one bottle cage, drat! The bag mounted is nothing like my carradice camper, so one bottle will have to do, the bottle won't be wasted as the stuff added is also a recovery mix so it will be handy when I return home, at least I have my jelly babies to supplement my reserves.
In my best beautiful retro Campagnolo red short sleeve merino jersey, Campag emblazoned in a broad white panel on the front, I set forth.
On reaching Chorley New road I am surprised to see Peter Moore heading back toward Bolton, seeing him at the last minute he had passed before contact can be made either by a shout or wave. Strange but obviously a good reason as to why will be found later.
With pulse monitor fixed on the bars and my eyes fixed on it, I start at the steady pace I have set myself and sure enough I become cannon fodder for the cyclists sneaking up from behind, I just have to ignore these challenges, stick to the plan, sod to no pain no gain.
The cool of the morning begins to disperse and as I warm up the going becomes easy, riding fixed gear on your own is a real pleasure, especially on a beautiful sun drenched day like today.
Through Chorley and the going gets even easier as I begin the drop down to Leyland and Worden Park. Worden Park, apart from it's pleasant greenery, has the one thing I cannot pass without a call, the toilets, always a big relief to get here.
Beyond the park are the quiet lanes to Croston, but Croston is a bit busier today as cars head for the same destination as myself, Southport. No matter, I am soon on the lane to the rickety bridge, being a mere farm track peace and quiet is returned.
I shatter the quiet on reaching the rickety bridge, all the wooden sleepers replaced by a metal equivalent, but still a resounding racket is made but now in metallic tenor. I look forward to being with a cycling group crossing the bridge, what a wonderful racket that will be.
At Sollom I ride over the canal bridge remembering the day it became a hanging bridge, Brian Timms was forced from the bridge, bike and all by a motorist in a four wheel drive, luckily Brian was caught up in some plastic webbing by his feet. There he was hanging upside down from the bridge, fortunately there was no harm done, either to Brian or the bike and the ride continued with one topic of discussion all the way to Southport.
At Sollom I enter Green lane and I am struck by the brilliant yellow of the rape seed flowers, vast blocks of brilliant yellow fields set against a clear blue sky. As I head toward the car wash cafe I am on the drops as the openness of the arable land offers no shelter from the strong breeze blowing across, and I am riding into it.
Once across the open ground it's not too bad and I choose the cycle path beside the main road down to Banks, from Banks it's a quiet road down to the Botanical Gardens at Churchtown, another welcome stop for relief.
I decide to take a ten minutes or so break and find an empty seat in the flower gardens, unusually though no flowers have yet been planted, the park is still very nice though especially in the sunshine. A drink and jelly babies are my food for the break, the sweets are being rationed out at three every twenty minutes, just about enough to get me home I reckon. Water bottle replenished I make my way to the other windswept lanes that lead over to Burscough, only now the strong summer breeze will be assisting my passage, I am looking forward to the pleasure of coasting along with minimum effort, this is wonderful cycling.
At Rufford the terrain alters dramatically, no more flat open lanes, just steady rising hedge strewn byways heading slowly up to Wrightington Bar.
Just about half way up to Wrightington at the T junction, Bentley Lane- Barmskin Lane, there is a post box and a nicely situated bench, nice enough for a ten minute break and more jelly babies plus drink.
Sitting in the sun, I gaze at the sign Bentley Lane and muse on the catch phrase of the comedian of old Jimmy Edwards in his 'Take it from here' radio show, 'Gently Bentley'. The saying seems appropriate sitting here getting ready for the two big humps to be tackled on my fixed geared steed.
Break over I begin the ride to the top, I crawl over the first big hump and recover a bit before the final push to the top and onto Tunley lane where I am more than glad to be, now the going will be nice and steady again.
On through Coppull then it's more steady rising roads through Adlington finally cresting at the Millstone pub and the reservoir where a brief stop is taken to capture the scenic view across the water of Rivington Pike and Winter hill beyond. The mast on Winter Hill is poking through fluffy white clouds with a deep blue sky as a backdrop, we are lucky to have all this on our doorstep.
I arrive home with three jelly babies to spare and once the bike is stowed they are greedily eaten, washed down with the bottle I was forced to leave behind in the morning, recovery is wonderful, well it will be when my legs are able to carry me upstairs for a shower.
A perfect end to an almost perfect day come as I watch 'Captain Cavtastic Cavendish' take the final stage of the Giro in a dramatic massive bunch sprint, wow! That was some race. Eventually I read my pulse monitor record, an average of 132 beats per minute, exactly what I had set out to do. As easy as the ride was though, I still felt knackered, not quite as tired as the Pendle event but I certainly knew I had been on a bike ride, a pleasurable one at that.