A cool and breezy ride

A cool and breezy ride.

Having looked at the local weather forecast from the Met Office on Monday, using the five day format, Wednesday looked quite good for a ride with John to Red House Farm for one of their delicious cream teas, home made scone, genuine clotted cream, butter and Jam, mmm!

John had been unable to make it earlier in the week due to domestic commitments so we settled on Wednesday, Thursday looked very unsettled with heavy rain forecast.

John rang on Tuesday with reservations about rain for the outing but I still had faith in my local outlook and a meet was arranged.

The odd thing here is we both arose on the morning around the same time, I looked out from the landing window and saw dry roads, good. John on the other hand heard heavy rain pelting down on his outhouse roof, so heavy he almost rang me to postpone the ride. How strange that a mere three to four miles apart, heavy rain in Hindley, none at Lostock.

I set off completely unaware of rain over in Hindley and soon was on the easy run down to the bottom of Schofield lane, legs swiftly moving, in keeping with the low fixed gear. John was already there as I approached.

I commented on the Beeb’s comment on Sahara sand and slow moving the problem was because there was no wind, no wind? Why then were the trees bending so.

John then related how the heavy rain led to him donning his waterproof over trousers, he had just removed them prior to my arrival.

We then had a small wager of fifty pence, I backed no rain, John having already been in it backed more rain.

Off we set taking the default route to Hollins Green pausing only for a toilet stop on my behalf at Bents Garden centre, I recommend this convenience to all.

Once over Warburton Bridge we coasted along to Lymm greatly assisted by the Beeb’s ‘no wind’.

The Poplar lined lane by the upper dam was as impressive as ever and at the top end I found out just why the poplars around here are such a landmark.

The bridge at the top of the lane though looking a little dilapidated now was once obviously a resplendent work of grandiose.

I spotted an information board placed on the bridge and we paused to glean the information it held.

Being from Bolton it was natural to be aware of the name Lord Leverhulme, the man who’s industrial empire spread worldwide, a man who also divorced himself from Bolton after the burning down of his bungalow at Rivington.

It seems the lord had, in the 1920’s, planned a purpose built workers village behind the impressive church on the hill overlooking the dam. A road and the bridge we were on were already built and in place but the village was never commenced, why not it does not say. However the bridge and the poplar lined lanes are a legacy of the village that never was. On the information board is an air photo of the planned site, again taken in the ‘20’s.

We took the wooded path along the top of the dam leading out at the back of the church by the community centre then into the narrow lanes leading to Broomedge.

From Broomedge the lanes then take us to Agden and Little Bollington. Crossing the narrow footbridge at Bollington mill we are impressed at the volume of water tumbling down the weir, it seems John was not the only one to have suffered heavy rain.. We paused to admire the heavy sluice gate that once controlled the water course feeding the water wheel at the mill. John was in wonder of how many apartments the mill now housed.

Not too far now from our destination, passing the Lavender farm cafe that our A ride called at the previous Sunday, only to be told that it would be an hour before they would be served. It was a busy sunny afternoon, and the lads had to reluctantly withdraw and leave without a sought after snack. It was very quiet today.

Red House Farm was reached and the well filled car park told John it was busy, fortunately the visitors were not all in the cafe and soon we were served with the delicious fare that we so much enjoy.       

The service was quick and pleasant, we were even told we could book a table and cream tea by phone on expected busy days.

The cream teas arrived and I used my video camera to record the occasion, I am not yet fully conversant with how it works but I did get something to share on the club’s facebook page.

Fifteen minutes of sheer indulgence later we were ready to start our return home and once on the go John remarked how great it was to have the strong wind on our back.

We again made use of the short bit of Trans Pennine way, much smoother going actually than the potholed lanes, to gain Heatley and the well trod route back to Warburton Bridge.

After the bridge we experienced a mix of head, side wind tail wind as the road twisted and turned, the headwind sections were a bit troublesome for John.

John declared he could ride all day with a tail wind, couldn’t we all, but the wind could not be beaten when heading into it.

Holcroft lane was a bit of a mix, side wind, side rear, but proved not to be too hard Though John was nearly blown off by the back draft of a huge lorry going at speed in the opposite direction.

We parted company at Daisy hill after a reflection on the delights of Cheshire lanes and cream teas, plus the fact we had no rain despite a mixed forecast. I playfully demanded the fifty pence from our morning wager, ‘what bet was that’ grinned John in response.

It’s nice to ride for the sheer pleasure of riding the bike, no rush, no push, when the clock and minutes do not rule, a bit like leaning on the five barred gate with a piece straw in the mouth. One thing is for sure, riding out with John is indeed a pleasure.