Boxing day blues

It should not have, but did.

Boxing Day, you know, the day after Christmas Day, well it wasn’t as it was supposed to be.

The NLTTA decided to we needed a ten mile time trial to spice up the festive season and so the event was set. As it was a ‘sign on the line’ event no entry forms were required. Since the event was posted I had long thought, yes, I’ll do it, as long as there’s no snow, no ice and no rain.

Dave Bisset had long since supported the event volunteering to marshal, push off or whatever was required so Bolton clarion would at least be involved one way or another. Now if I entered we, Bolton clarion would be on the official start sheet of the first NLTTA Christmas ‘10’

All I needed was the assurance of a nice summery day for the time trial, and sure enough the good old Met Office duly obliged with a superb forecast for the day.

Wall to wall sunshine, wintery sunshine with early frost, right that’ll do me, I’m going.

Christmas night and the starry skies predicted were not in sight, in fact it was raining, ah well perhaps it will clear during the early hours of morning, it didn’t.

I got up early and began to get my stuff ready even though the clear skies had still not put in an appearance, at least there will be no frost and ice, so what if the clear skies had not yet appeared, they are telling me on the breakfast telly it’s going to be a dry day.

Having been stuffed with turkey, mash, sausage, sprouts, carrots, stuffing, gravy, then topped up with Christmas pudding covered by an unhealthy jugful of cream the day before, breakfast was not really an option, coffee, just coffee.

Car loaded I was off, 9 am with car lights on as it was still dark, not even a chink of light in the darkness overhead, well it’ll be ok, they said so on the telly.

Signing on was 10 am onwards and I was obviously keen as I arrived early enough to claim number one spot at 9.45. A Berlingo told me Dave Bisset had arrived and according to the organiser was already scouting the course, what for I’m not sure, however he was scouting.

Still under a dark grey canopy I optimistically set up the turbo trainer and my bike, ably assisted by a now returned Dave Bisset, who enthusiastically admired my new time trial bike. When I say ‘new’ it is merely the new construction of parts already in my possession hung on to a ‘new’ time trial frame Geoff Smith has been trying to sell me for ten years.

Turbo set up, bike mounted to it, and a few revs to check gears etc are working ok, it was fine but would probably need fine tuning after the first ride over ten miles. Ten minutes into this trial of gears etc it started to rain, I covered the seat with a plastic shopping bag and sat in the car awaiting the dry all day ‘day’ to appear. As I sat there the rain began to absolutely pour down, I looked at the jersey with the number ‘fifteen’ pinned to it, looked through the water cascading down the windscreen at the even darker slow moving clouds, no way I thought, the number would have to be returned and my name added to the dreaded capitals, DNS.

I constantly looked at my watch, the start time was getting ever closer, a few brave souls began to get their bikes out to warm up, warm up, it was cold and very wet. Former Bolton member Sean Warren was one of the first to make a move, is he mad, surely he’s not going to warm up in this heavy rain, he was.

Suddenly the rain stopped, should I or shouldn’t I, that was the question, mad or what?

By now it was too late to start warming up on the turbo trainer so it was packed away and the bike readied for the off. The rain may have stopped but the roads were awash, it was not going to be the comfortable ride the Met had forecast.

At least I was suitably attired for the cold wet stuff, Aldi merino long johns and vest, Aldi waterproof socks, some little comfort was gained by the prospect of dry warm feet even if the other 95% was going to be sodden as I made my way to the start.

Normally I like to get the 77 year old legs moving with a warm up of at least 45 minutes but today it was not to be but the biggest problem would be my breathing, and so it proved. I had been stupid enough, again, to take my inhaler but not use it and I was seven miles into the ten before I could even partially control the gasping, by which time the legs were wondering whether or not to give up. Well it’s only a Christmas festivity ride, enjoy it, it’s only half an hour or so of suffering and think of the calories you will burn off.

The finish line approaches, that’s it, all over, I’ve survived, time? Don’t even think about it, after all it’s only an enjoyable Christmas ride.   

Bolton Clarion Christmas festivities.

Clarion Christmas Festivities

7^th December 2014

Saturday night the forecast for Sunday morning was a dire looking one, wet and cold with a hint of snow in parts, surely our downhill event will not be cancelled

Sunday morning began as forecast, rain belting down early as I was getting ready to meet John Mann and Charlie Whittle at Lostock station, but the most striking thing was the wind, gosh it was really blowing hard.

The rain had abated as I set off to meet the fellow members but still lightly falling and not a problem, yet.

Surprise surprise, John was already there and as I rolled up right behind me was Charlie and Ray Fairclough, Charlie I was expecting but not Ray.

As usual riding into the very strong headwind I found myself on the front as we rode up Chorley New road. Behind I could hear talking as well as my heavy breathing, at least my sacrifice on the front was of some assistance to our venerable eighty four year old member John.

We arrived at the barn just behind the familiar figure of Steve Menhams who had suddenly appeared from an off road track. The gathering was underway and as this year there was no timed kettle boiling to keep us amused hot coffee in the barn was an eager option.

As we sat enjoying the coffee it seemed altogether much better as fingers pointed outside to the rain that had become a deluge, thank goodness we were comfortably under cover. One or two late comers were not as fortunate and were almost drowned.

As if by magic, the rain ceased as we left the barn and out came the sun on the colourful cavalcade of cyclists making the trip along the ‘Street’ to the downhill venue, Nick Hilton lane, starting from the Yew Tree pub. 

After the obligatory group photo by Pete Singleton using with difficulty the ‘gorilla’ mini tripod, a hands and knees job seeing the viewfinder, the fun began.

One by one the members rolled away from the start line, some on classy bikes worthy of a road race, some bog standard and just a couple of mountain bkes, Fleur sporting a nice pink one worthy of the rough stuff fellowship gang.

John Mann was a non starter and stayed on the pub car park, after reassurance from me that we would be coming back up the hill, he still looked uncertain we would.

I hopped (?) on my bike as last man off, just pushed a little on the pedals to start rolling. Soon I was flying, so fast tears filled my eyes, even with a hub dynamo on the front wheel I was at warp factor one. A car approaching the finish area slowed me down a bit as I stopped just ahead of someone’s chalk line, at least I wasn’t last.

Paul came down the hill counting his strides, ‘twenty one, twenty two’ yards, I was second twenty two yards behind the winner, I felt cheated, especially when it was declared Steve Horner had a pair of £600 pound wheels fitted, crickey I hope Paul has a prize befitting such will to win.

Back up the hill to Back Lane and a relieved John Mann, who was not at all sure we would be coming back this way. The sun was very bright as we made our way down the lane and highlighted the Christmas feel by casting it’s glow on the wet green leaves and deep red berries of the holly trees.

Cresting the short steep hill at Cowling we had a regrouping before continuing down Stump lane where we were greeted by a ‘No through road’ sign, as on the Arnside ride it was ignored and on we went, at the bottom and to the left was McDonalds, time for more coffee.

With our entrance it meant a very large queue but as I had abandoned my bike I was almost at the front but the lady behind the counter declared a ten minute wait for coffee. A quick thinking Paul changed his order to hot chocolate and was served almost at once, I was quick to follow suit and I have to say the drink was delicious, despite someone saying it was fattening, on a day when a big turkey dinner was next up it hardly mattered.

We filled one end of McDonalds managing to more or less all sit together, noisy cheerful chatter filled the air, the spirit of Christmas was well and truly upon us.

Time to move on and the good nature continued as a customer was gesticulating and pointing his finger at one of the bikes and a piece of paper attached to the saddle. On the paper was written, £75.00. or near offer, a good laugh as it was on an expensive looking bike, a better joke than those in the Christmas crackers.

Again we had managed to miss a cloudburst while in the cafe and the leisurely ride the two or so miles to the Cherry tree was enjoyable, the strong headwind that had troubled us going to the barn was now behind us. The strength of the tail wind was highlighted by the sight of flying Fleur on the downhill and flat sections of road, she made that mountain bike move.

Bikes locked and it was into the restaurant, most of us eager for a pint of good beer with me looking forward to a pint of the very nice ‘Dirty Blonde’ special but I was to be disappointed as the barrel was not yet connected, ah well, lager would do for now.. At the bar were three welcome guests, Pete Wilson, Craig Smith and his brother Barry, more than welcome as they were busy filling in membership forms and paying long overdue subs, about three years overdue. Welcome back Pete, Craig and Barry.

Once again we filled one end of the eatery pulling crackers and putting on the party hats and looking for the novelties that usually fly as the cracker comes apart. This tradition is then continued with a reading of the jokey slips of paper, smiles elicited by the sheer weakness of the jokes, jokes we all told in junior school, still it’s all part of the overall fun.

The Christmas lunch was superb, I did not hear one word of criticism, chief guests Geoff and Yvonne Smith particularly enjoyed their Vegetarian meal.

Party spirit continued with our festive grand raffle, again generously supported by Geoff and Yvonne and of course by the members, the outcome was a sum of some ninety odd pounds, again to be donated to our adopted charity, Bolton Hospice. The ‘Dirty Blonde’ beer came on tap so I relaxed with an after dinner pint in the equally relaxed atmosphere.

Members began to drift off as dusk and more rain approached and a good number of us continued the party with a ride back to Rivington Barn for coffee, riding up the hills to get there on a full stomach really was a chore for me.

After coffee, more tall stories, looks cast by the hard worked staff told us it was time to leave and so we did.

The last bit of tradition now took place for the hardy (foolhardy?) ones among us, the trek over Chorley old road to the Doffcocker pub and again, as last year the ride was in rain but at least we had a strong wind behind giving us a welcome shove up the long, long hill. At the top there is the bonus of a nice long much appreciated downhill right to the doors of the pub.

Another enjoyable couple of hours were spent, the exploits of the day and past Christmas events being discussed and laughed over. We were joined as usual by singing barber Nev Street, a former member from years ago and the front end of a record breaking tandem duo, the back end being our present member Charlie Whittle. At the time we, Charlie, Nev and myself were members of Leigh Premier road club, again historic tales were relived.

We broke up the party eventually and found as we ventured out that the rain was still persisting down but a few pints consumed meant it was hardly a problem, especially for me, as once up on the ring road it was all downhill home, right to the front door.

I wound up the long day enjoying the latest episode of the thriller serial Homeland along with two rounds of toast and a pot of tea after that I went to bed, and fell asleep as I mused on another successful Bolton clarion Christmas do.