Clarion Easter Meet
Scarborough 2013
Easter Meet time and I ready
myself for a trip over to Scarborough for the first time
since eight years ago, also a clarion meet.
As we were facing the coldest
March on record, plus visiting the east coast, a place renowned for being cold
at the height of summer, preparation was of the utmost importance.
The first consideration was
thermal underwear, as a callow youth I would only have tee shirts and a crew
neck pullover and a brave face, but advancing years have brought a little
sense.
Unsure of what activity would
be most prominent, pub, cycling or socialising, the number of items of clothing
being taken just grew and grew. Whatever the activity one thing was certain, my
collection of merino wool vests would outnumber anything else, some of which I
thank ‘Aldi’ for.
Socks, ski socks, thermal
socks, thin socks, wool socks added to these were my little hotty toe warmers,
cycling boots and overshoes.
With the accent on warmth
sorted the rest was easy, lightweight trousers, posh shirt, and an assortment
of tees and finally a waterproof.
A request from the ‘Meet’
organisers for the loan of our club time trial numbers and high viz jackets
added another huge bag to the pile I had already assembled, Would there be room
in Dave’s car for this lot? The answer to that last question was yes, Steve
Menhams had taken the courageous decision to ride all the way to Scarborough on his bike, what
a guy!
Dave arrived at one o’clock and the bike and stuff went into the back of the car
quite comfortably, but even so thoughts of the return with three of us and
luggage meant a bit of squeezing.
We are off.
Onto the M62 and heading east
in good weather we seemed set fair for a trouble free trip across the country
to Scarborough, before too many miles however the outlook was
decidedly taking on a bleak appearance. Flashing motorway signs were indicating
a problem ahead, delays from junction 23 to 25, ah well just a minor delay we
thought. As the build up continued we were down to a crawl and finally a full
stop, the motorway was now closed from junction 23.
The best way of dealing with
this was to have a picnic, I rooted out a pack of four Mars bars and a box of
twelve Easter eggs from one of my bags, chocolate is said to be for comfort
eaters and we needed comforting right now, if I’d known we were to take a
break, Kit Kats would perhaps have been more appropriate.
After a couple of hours of
stop start due to three packed motorway lanes being funnelled into a single
exit lane we eventually left the motorway and sought a detour beyond the
supposedly clear junction 25, a good move as it turned out. Eventually we
joined a fast moving road and made good progress to the A64 leading straight to
Scarborough, it was like having shackles removed.
Reaching Scarborough we had only to
find the hotel, as neither I nor Dave had thought to bring a copy of the Boots
and Spurs giving details we were lost.
After a good deal of driving
round with not a policeman in sight we eventually spotted a car hire place,
good thinking, they are bound to know. After a friendly driver said he knew,
and offering to take us for £4.60. before he realised we were in a car, he did
point us in the right direction, with an added, ask again when over the bridge,
the ‘bridge’ being a famous local landmark.
A very friendly receptionist
at one hotel actually came out on the street and gave us precise directions,
spot on, and in a couple of minutes we were there, the feeling of relief was
almost overwhelming. By now it was around seven pm and the first room
sought was the little one marked, ‘Men’, as I said, overwhelming relief.
Handshakes and greetings to
familiar faces then up the never ending flights of stairs with luggage to the
room, arriving at the door in a state of collapse, thank god, we’ve made it.
The evening begins with a bit
of socialising and a drink or two, it’s good to see the Mayoress taking the
time to seek out all clarion members and engage them in conversation, usually
the local dignitaries are cornered barely meeting anyone other than a few. It’s
not hard to spot clarion members, they were all wearing the ‘Scarborough meet ribbon’.
Among the members is one from London who never ceases
to amaze, Martin Perfect, he made the trip over on his bike, a mere two hundred
and forty mile marathon. Martin did the ride over three days and in doing so
won the award for most miles covered cycling to the meet.
Our own hero, Steve Menhams,
also chose to ride from Bolton to Scarborough, in one day. Steve
covered one hundred and thirty three miles into the strong bitterly cold east
headwind, arriving at the hotel around nine pm, understandably after stowing
the bike, unpacking his huge panniers and showering he retired to bed. We saw
him at breakfast the following morning looking non the worse for his leg weary
journey, and to think Dave and I were legless just climbing the multi
stairways.
Saturday morning begins in
bright sunshine but the bitter east wind persisted, not that it trouble us much
as the morning is going to be taken up by the National Clarion Annual
Conference, sounds grand but a real turn off for those wishing to get out and
ride their bikes.
As usual the meeting gets
underway with the hope that due to a reduced agenda business will be over and
done with allowing those present, time to a bit of sightseeing and cycling.
Dave and I look forward to a bit of cycling on the Saturday but as Dave is
Chair at the conference the whole morning goes by without a pedal being turned.
However, also as usual time
drags on, and as usual you have the member addressing the meeting with the
classic, ‘ Mr Chairman, I can sum the resolution up in one sentence’ and sits
down fifteen minutes later.
The meeting does draw to a
close but already I have one eye on the clock, we have the responsibility of
getting the Bolton clarion numbers and high viz
jackets over to the time trial HQ. We had been hopeful of getting there, HQ was
about twelve miles out, but there was no one to take the kit over so Dave and I
drove over. Any one who has run or been to a time trial HQ will be aware that
no matter how early the organiser gets there he is beaten by eager contestants wanting
to sign on and get a number on their back.
We arrived and sure enough
plenty were awaiting the arrival of the numbers in the village hall scented
with the all too familiar smell of embrocation, I swear horse liniment is in
use today, and with a cold wind blowing liberal amounts were being applied to
shaven legs.
Me and Dave were stuck on a
crossroad about four miles from the finish as marshals, a cold draughty corner
but fortunately the almost cloudless skies meant plenty of sunshine that
struggled to lift the temperature by a degree or two, where o where would the
sport be without suffering volunteers.
For us the event was underway
when the first rider came into view, whizzed past, as Dave ticked the number
off the list. The crossroad was at the bottom of a hill and as the riders had a
tail wind on this section they took great advantage of it, carbon aero wheels
and disc wheels shwishing and rumbling by at great speed. Nick Hall (Bury) went
screaming past on his drops, I shouted to him, ‘get on your tri bars’ not
realising as I found out later, he had non fitted to his bike, a bit odd for a
man fancied to win the clarion event. As the last man, number seventy screamed
past at warp factor one, we just had to hang around a bit to collect numbers of
those yet to pass though a few of the missing numbers were obviously
‘permanently ’missing, one of whom was our mile eating Martin. After his
marathon ride he was down to compete in the ten mile time trial.
On returning to the HQ I made
a hot tea and cakes my priority before turning my attention to the result board,
as yet incomplete but would soon contain a bigger surprise than the time of the
winner.
The course was described as
‘sporting’, a bit of an understatement in my opinion as a pig of a long long
climb at the start was made even more difficult by the strong headwind, such a
course would have been considered suicidal by me.
The results began to trickle
in and of course being a clarion event we eagerly awaited the results of our
fellow members and for a long time a clarion member was the overall leader, not
only that, despite generous handicapping, he was leading that as scratch man,
it was some ride by Mathew Ball coming all the way from West Lothian.
Martin provided a bigger
comment as he recorded a really decent time despite being seen only by the
start timekeeper and the finish timekeeper, perhaps he had passed us, and other
marshals, at warp factor three and therefore invisible. He was unfortunately
removed from the result board, Martin accepted the verdict with a smile, nice
one.
The outright winner was a
local lad who posted a fantastic time, a onetime national junior champ, well
clear of the next man but there was little between the second and third places,
Mathew taking a very creditable third.
As the result board provided
crowded interest I took advantage of the quiet tea bar with another two cups of
tea and cakes, it’s hard work marshalling.
Back at the Easter Meet HQ we
relaxed again and took details of the evening event organised by Chris Goode,
who along with fellow east coast members had taken responsibility for the whole
weekend, and a very good job they did too. The event was being held in a church
hall, an evening of Ceili dancing. Interestingly it was a ‘bring your own
beer’, being a church hall of course it was soft drinks only provided. Now
Ceili dancing is not every ones cup of tea but bear with it, prepare to be
entertained.
Dave and I walked over to the
event by a coastal path that was animated by waves crashing over the sea walls
then along the front with its penny arcades and souvenir shops prompting Dave
to pick up a couple of fridge magnets depicting the town. Fish and chips from a
branch of the famous Harry Ramsden chain were ravenously enjoyed along the way
to the dance. Our knowledge of the town had been greatly enhanced by an hour of
being lost the day before and the hand written notes Dave had thoughtfully
scribed before we left HQ.
All we needed now was an off
licence to take on board the ‘booze’. As we wandered in our quest we were asked
the directions of a particular bus service by a young lady with a broad
scottish accent made even more brusque by inebriation. As we had no idea where
we were other than in Scarborough we were of no help, the young lady rather
loudly confronted other passers by with the question, ’are ye on an adventure ?’,
obviously sorting tourist from local. Eventually the young lady and her male
companion drifted away in the distance in their unusual quest.
We neared our destination and
lo and behold came across a local Aldi store, how good and fortunate was that,
we had been looking for an off licence and here we were with one of the best.
Ten bottles of Belgian lager
plus plastic carrier at less than the price of a pint back at HQ highlights
just what good value the store offers, Dave with his alcoholic ginger beer and
cans of ‘Murphy’s’ was equally sorted.
Entering the church hall it
was immediately obvious that we were the first one there, apart from the band,
who were busy setting up and tuning on the stage. What struck me was the fact
that all the band, with possibly one exception, were older than me, imagine
that!
Some preparation had been made
by someone as the evenings buffet had been nicely laid out and very good it
looked too.
Dave and I sat like two lost
souls sat there with drinks awaiting the party to start. Eventually the guests began to arrive and
despite not everyone being present yet the band struck up and an enthusiastic
leader soon had volunteers on the floor, strictly come dancing it was not. For
a start Dave was unexpectedly one of the volunteers. Since not many had much
idea of ceili and country dancing a good deal of explaining and rehearsing the
moves soon had hoots of laughter, audience participation was superb.
As more arrived, more were
encouraged on to the dance floor, first man up for every dance was Dave, now if
you thought cycling was energetic, forget it, the sight of Dave careering up
and down the hall, doing doe si doe etc. Intervals between dances were very
brief, just long enough to get into the next can of Murphy’s , a wiping of
sweat with his jumper and Dave was up again. Believe me, Mr. Chairman is a man
of unplumbed depths. The bravery of the ladies was to be respected also, how
would you cope with the sight of a very large man careering toward you with
little chance of pulling up? It was a good job Dave had the Murphy’s to replace
lost minerals, I have never seen anyone in such a lather, it was all good fun.
Despite lots of cajoling, I took no part in the dancing though I enjoyed it
immensely along with my Belgian beer.
We had a welcome interval
during which the buffet was started, it was indeed an excellent buffet and very
plentiful, so much so that at the end of the evening pleas were made for people
to take home a doggy bag.
In the chill of late night we
unerringly found our way back to HQ where the warmth was very welcome, a cup of
tea would have been a welcome nightcap but the room was bereft of the usual tea
and coffee facilities, or so I thought.
Sunday morning was the day of
the social rides, two of, one short easy pace, one long at a more brisk rate,
but first came the Annual Photo Shoot, a grouping of the sections from around
the country, a colourful occasion with each sections colours proudly worn.
Standing out above the rest of course were the Bolton clarion jerseys of Steve
and myself, oddly Dave posed as best he could in the old red yellow and black
but non the less a colourful figure who can stand out anywhere. The photos were
taken against the backdrop of Scarborough harbour and
cloudless blue sky, what a picture, what stunning scenery, almost as stunning
as the cyclist in the foreground. Photo shoot done, there was a general melee as
route sheets, signing on sheets, maps were handed out in return of a one pound
coin, wow, how cheap is that for an organised ride, I use the word organised
advisedly. We were even given an official card to be stamped at the half way
point.
Having breakfasted well I was
ready to go, as were loads of other impatient cyclists eager to be off. At last
the organiser stowed his saddlebag with remaining paperwork and to a loud cheer
threw his leg over the crossbar and engaged the pedals and toe clips, we were
off.
The rides were a sociable A
ride and a sociable B ride, the A being the longer ride to Flamborough Head,
while we who had opted for the B headed for the now familiar HQ village used
for the previous days time trial. The village is a typical lovely place so
fittingly situated in the East Yorkshire Wolds, a fine area for cycle touring
with a lot to offer.
The village has a very nice
tea room and it is there that we are making for via some beautiful rolling
lanes.
The two rides left Scarborough
together with a separation point about three miles out of town, despite the so
called easy social group ride, the separation came a little early for some, my
heart and lungs conveyed to me that someone must be off the back as I clung to
the wheels of the first half dozen riders. The fast lads and ladies up near the
front were just pedalling in their comfort zone whilst putting a few of us
older guys distinctly out of theirs. Every now and again some up front would
ask, ‘are we altogether?’, a positive shout from the back led them to believe
it was so, it wasn’t.
Finally we reached the point
of separation, the B ride regrouped and I was thankful of the break.
Interestingly one who was troubled least by the earlier pace was the youngest
rider with us, Alex Ball, a mere slip of a lad still in the infant school by
the look of him, nine years old I think, son of Mathew from West Lothian, he
was riding fantastically strong. Ian Clarke correctly pointed out that the
oldest and the youngest clarion riders of the day were almost side by side.
During the re grouping it was
discovered that Dave was missing along with two young ladies, well from my
perspective they were young, one of whom happened to be Ian Clarke’s mother in
law, mother of Jayne. It was decided , after a delay that Dave’s ability to
read the map provided, would allow them to find the cafe stop, we would meet
them there.
With young Alex showing
everyone a good turn of speed the rendezvous was reached and an eager bunch of
cyclists crowded in. As I went to the counter a young lady thrust a signing on
sheet and a punch machine into my hands, I was now in charge of booking
everyone in and out, plus punching the cards with a musical note.
Later Dave appeared along with
the two ladies and gave a long and detailed explanation of what went wrong, all
could have been condensed into, ‘we got lost’. However they had made it and we
were glad to see them, being the b group on their own now, no one would be left
on the return to Scarborough.
The cafe was a pleasant stop
and like a true club run there was much milling around in the now pleasant
sunshine as we made ready for the off, being only one wc the off was much
delayed allowing plenty of photo shoots.
The route back was practically
all in quiet lanes, some would describe them as rolling, others would say
hilly, but as we stopped at the top of every climb no one flagged or
complained, this was a real social ride. The ride was so social we even stopped
at the bottom of a very steep hill as one clarion rider took the unusual
decision to ‘walk’ down the hill, how cool is that for social riding. The ride
also gave pleasure to young Alex as he just romped up every hill, another
couple of years and he will give Mathew, a more than capable rider, a real run
for his money. My money will be on Alex.
A couple of miles from the HQ
we were back on busier roads but still not bad and still together in one group,
also it was still early afternoon, plenty of time to make for the nominated pub
in town that was showing the ‘Tour of Flanders’. The bike race would turn out
to be just one of the afternoon’s attractions.
We found the pub in question
without much difficulty, ‘The Cask’, and rather surprisingly Martin Perfect was
already sat outside, it seems he had prior knowledge and made good use of it.
We settled into a crowded pub
finding a table right in front of the tele showing the race and with about
twenty five miles left to race we had timed it nicely.
It wasn’t long before another
attraction, (or distraction) divided attention among the customers, the arrival
of a noisy hen party, a bevy of busty , high heeled, hatted young and not so
young ladies, dressed to kill in a variety of mini and super mini dresses. The
odd one or two in tight trousers looked like they had been painted on, all this
as a determined bunch of cyclists pounded the cobbles of Belgium for all they were
worth, now where would you rather be.
As we sat with eyes flirting
from tele to man trouble, the drinks flowed freely and the noisy hen party was
interspersed with frequent hysterical laughter, perhaps it was the sight of
‘men in tights’ gazing at them with intent that brought the hilarity about, who
knows.
Eventually a mini bus arrived
to carry the mini skirted bevy of ladies to the next port of call on their pub
crawl, the quiet on their dispersal was sudden, the race on the cobbles was now
centre stage. The culmination of the race brought home just how strong and fit
the pro’s are, Cancellara in particular, but unlike his two previous classics
wins he had to dig deep as Sep Vanmarkek took him all the way to a fantastic
sprint out on the velodrome finish. Cancellara won but boy was it close.
Race over the drinks
continued awhile longer, as did the tv
entertainment, the Oxford v Cambridge boat. After the
excitement of the bike race the boat race seemed quite tame, to us anyway,
though the spectators on the banks of the Thames were very raucous
as usual. Oxford won by the way. Eventually we had to leave the warmth of the
cosy pub and get back to HQ for the big occasion, the National Clarion Awards
Night.
We rode back to HQ a little un
steadier than we left for the pub but all went well and without incident.
Showered and shaved we were
ready to join the party when I began to look for something in drawers and
cupboards and to my surprise found the tea and coffee making equipment stowed
away in a cupboard, I was flabbergasted. I make a point of taking or buying
extra tea and coffee, as well as milk when staying in hotels, this time I had
taken a good supply including the milk. Ah well, you live and learn, I
certainly did as I found the milk to be well and truly curdled.
The dinner went well and most
notable for me was the superbly delicious steak, after the afternoon ride in
bracing sea air, the entertainment at the pub, I was more than ready to dine.
After dinner we had a rather
unusual after dinner guest speaker, a man well known locally as a road safety
officer, recognised for his work with children and cycling safety. He commenced
to give one of his safety lectures using raw eggs, dropped from a height, some
in protective cardboard , others without. No doubt you will have guessed what
the message was all about, the great never ending helmet question, to save the
cranium or not save the cranium. Needless to say, opinion was divided..
Finally the awards ceremony
took place, interestingly the north was again prominent with Bury, Stockport and West Lothian gaining a fair
share of awards. Nottingham though took home most of the
major trophies including team awards. With trophies for all disciplines, road,
time trial, track, cyclo cross and mountain biking, you can see there is
something for all, including non competitive and social awards, it’s a while
since Bolton made the awards but perhaps
we can do something this year.
The night was drawn to a close
with the event that all cycling clubs are famous for, even Bradley Wiggins
alluded to it when being acclaimed winner of the Tour de France on the podium,
it is of course the raffle. Bolton couldn’t even win
at that, me Steve and Dave drew a blank despite many prizes being raffled.
After an early excellent
breakfast it was time to stow the bikes and baggage into Dave’s car, this time Steve’s baggage was included
which made for a very heavily laden vehicle.
Dave had a bit more clarion
business to complete, the dual role of chairman and treasurer requiring a bit
of tidying up, cheques etc, then we were off.
Wishing not for a repeat
performance of our motorway to Scarborough, Dave chose a more
traditional route across to Bolton hoping to avoid
the mass exit from holiday resorts, we certainly did that.
The journey across Yorkshire went very well, Harrogate and Skipton were
reached quite comfortably but once at Skipton things began to unravel.
Skipton was so busy, people
were thronging to the ever popular outdoor market that runs all the way down
the main street, quite unique, if you have never been I can recommend it but go
on a bike, you’ll be lucky to get on a car park. So it was with us as Dave sought
a parking spot with a cafe stop in mind, up to now we had made do with the Mars
bars and easter eggs for a snack. The search for a parking spot was fruitless
as we circled the car park along with others also intent on a stay in Skipton,
eventually Dave decided to hit the road again in the direction of Clitheroe.
Leaving the town heading for
the bypass Dave took my advice and turned into the lane to the Thomas the Tank
village, Embsay. Dave’s nickname for me has been the human satnav, but today
sunspots seriously disrupted the magnetic field. I will say now, that the
clanger I was about to drop would be the most beautiful clanger ever dropped.
‘Turn left here’ Dave
dutifully did so, and why not, I had got us out of a tight spot on the way to
York, the left turn brought us into a very narrow lane, one with ‘passing
places’ denoting just how narrow. A main road loomed at a tee junction, ‘which
way’ take a right , we’ll head for Hellifield, my wires were well and truly
crossed.
After a while, the road looked
distinctly familiar as did the road signs that definitely disagreed with the
direction we were allegedly heading, Grassington brought an exclamation from
Dave, as did the sight of a very familiar landmark, Kilnsey Crag. On a nice
summer day rock climbers can be seen tackling this famous overhang, but not
today. God how had we finished up here. ‘Take the next left Dave, it leads to
Settle, I promise’
The next left does indeed take
us to Settle via Arncliffe and the beautiful Littondale, I swear that if you
ever come down it to Grassington on a summers day the memory will live with you
forever, it is that beautiful. As I said earlier it was a beautiful clanger,
Steve Menhams whole heartedly agreed, even if it was with a chuckle, Dave
remained non committal.
Dropping down from the top of
the climb out of Littondale we are dwarfed on the right by the huge icon that
epitomises the Yorkshire Dales, Wherneside, this area is known as the ‘Gateway
to the Dales’. Dropping down to Stainforth it is amusing to see standing
outside remote dwellings and farms the ubiquitous wheelie bin, despite the
narrow lanes made still narrower by stubborn snowdrifts, collections are still
being made.
We arrive in Settle and within
minutes the option of fish and chips in the old market place chippy is taken,
and almost as quickly the delicious meals were devoured, after all, the detour
had delayed by some degree, lunchtime.
Suitably satisfied we took a
stroll round he small compact market centre where Dave looked for more fridge
magnets as a reminder of the Easter weekend, thankfully there were none
illustrating ‘clangers’. Steve’s
interest in a merino wool ‘Buff’ quickly waned when learning from the
shop assistant they had a price tag of £36.00. and just as quickly he came out
of the shop.
Back in the car we are now on
our last leg of an ‘interesting’ journey home but still with interest along the
way, Rathmell, Flass Farm, memories of the tea room there, and summer rides
down the Ribble valley.
With no further ‘detours’ on
the default route back to Bolton we arrived with just doorstep drop offs left,
first Steve then me, Dave must have let out a great gasp of relief as he left
my doorstep, the hugely delayed journey home was almost over.
I put my weekend notes by the
computer, so much had happened in four days, should I curtail the story and
condense it to a few lines or do I write a mini novel, it had indeed been a
novel weekend.
Having found it difficult to
stop writing, members will have to forgive me for being long winded, but if just
a couple of you are inspired to enjoy a weekend with the National Clarion on an
Easter Meet, I will be well pleased, cheers.
