In to 2015, wheels on fire!

A rather damp but enjoyable Bolton clarion New Years Day social ride

A nice turn out today for the social New Years Day ride down to Hollins Green. Ten brave souls ignored the doom laden weather forecast and set out from Four Lane Ends in gloomy but dry conditions, though the speed of the downhill swoop to Atherton was was blunted by the predicted head wind. Whilst in the urban areas the wind was not too much of a problem, but when the wide open Holcroft Lane was reached we were well exposed to it.
We reached our destination, the Black Swan, at Hollins Green without too much trouble, but before entering we posed for a photo with the cycle friendly wall sign welcoming cyclists to use the toilet facilities without charge. The gesture is so unique that one of our members, Ray Clinch, suggested an annual visit to the pub to dine as a mark of respect to the management for their hospitality.
Peter Moore organised the ride so well that the heavy rain forecast arrived as we sat down to dine in the comfortable surroundings, and indeed he even organised the rising wind to be on our backs for the return journey home.
On reaching Leigh the rain really did set in, though it has to be said that the day was very warm and to be warm and wet is a lot better than being wet and cold.
A great cycling start to the New Year, let's hope we get more good cycling weather throughout the year.

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.        

   

Bolton Clarion Members Blog and Forum: Tea with Dee

Bolton Clarion Members Blog and Forum: Tea with Dee: Tea with Dee. John Mann and I met to ride once again to Red House Farm, a ride arranged before I realised that the Wednesday ride were a...

Tea with Dee

Tea with Dee.

John Mann and I met to ride once again to Red House Farm, a ride arranged before I realised that the Wednesday ride were also bound for the same destination, I only saw their ride on the runs list this morning before setting off.
John asked my opinion as to where we would be when caught, Hollins Green I reckoned. A call of nature once again just approaching Bent's garden centre was answered, today the background music had Ray Charles unmistakable voice while tinkling the ivories!
On we went and once on Holcroft lane an enormously helpful tail wind had us floating along, not quite as fast as the few cyclists on tri bars who shot past us, but a nice pace. Just before we got to Holcroft lane a slight figure shot past at greatly impressive speed, just visible under his red gilet was an older Bolton clarion jersey in the unmistakable pattern of red yellow and black, but who was it, I was at a loss.
We had a short break at Hollins Green, again the unknown cyclist was discussed but without realising who it could possibly be. It was here I was chastised a little by John with a cheeky observation. Having mentioned to John the invite by our A group to ride back with them on Sunday and my reluctance to engage in 18 + mph chase, he mentioned speeds of 21mph in places and how fast his legs were revolving behind my fixed gear. I chuckled and pointed out that I was actually back pedalling. I agreed that the pace would be judged accordingly from this point on.
Once over Warburton Bridge and reaching the Green Dragon pub, our clarion clad mistery cyclist was revealed, there sat in the bus shelter giving us a shout was Fred Smith, well I never. With a wave and a shout we responded and carried on to the Pennine way cycle track. John had earlier expressed reservations about using the track due to overnight rain but I reassured him it would be fine but in doing so I recalled saying something similar once before being confronted by swans on a cycle path. The path was in fact perfect with hardly even a puddle to be seen, much to John's relief and though he didn't know it mine as well.
By now the sun was beginning to feel warm and in the shelter of the tree lined track it really was superb cycling and 84 year old John was really enjoying the day. Blue sky and lots of broken white cloud set the scene for the approach to the farmhouse cafe now a mere half mile away and still the B group had not put in an appearance, surely they should have passed by now.
As we locked our bikes in the farm yard adjacent to the cafe a group of cyclists appeared, it was our fellow club members.
Dee joined us at our table while the rest after exchanging greetings decided to dine in the outside patio area. The chat was lively, humorous and interesting especially when it came to John's retrieval of his club newsletter that he had forgetfully left on the table the previous Wednesday.
The Wednesday group was a good size showing the interest in a midweek ride when we are blessed with nice weather as today, it was nice to see, Ken Hahlo doing a good job as leader.
John expressed an interest of a further visit to the old Warburton church and a search for the now elusive gravestone of an unfortunate young that gave a glimpse of his life while also a hint of mystery. Again we failed to find it.
After browsing the grounds we left to tackle the wind that had so assisted us on our outward journey, Holcroft lane would once again be a challenge.
Once at the top of the lane and with the wind now mainly behind and across we were mighty relieved and normal progress was resumed.
At Daisy Hill we paused a while before going our separate ways, John expressing his delight at being able to enjoy riding his bike despite his recent medical problems, at 84 he has a true appreciation of the humble bike while I appreciate the company of a true gentleman. An Indian Summer does not just apply to the weather!

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cream tea, headstones and gravestones 17.9.14.

Cream tea, headstones and gravestones.

I met John for a Wednesday ride and being in the middle of a glorious Indian Summer a nice Cheshire jaunt seemed to be just about right and it was agreed.

Off wet set with just one pause on the way to Hollins Green, Bent’s garden centre where I always find I am ready for a toilet stop. The facilities are great with background music to entertain, this morning Tony Bennet was giving his rendition of ‘one for my baby and one more for the road’. Having had my one for the road we continued our jaunt down a virtually car free Holcroft lane due to a road closure at the Hollins Green end.

A short break at Hollins where John decided we had a choice of options to make, initially our destination had been the ‘Bakery’ at Lymm but John now threw a spanner in the works. ‘Do we head for Lymm and beans on toast, or, do we head for Red House Farm and a cream tea?’ Well for me it was a no brainer, a bit like asking the donkey do you want strawberries or a Greenhalgh’s pie. So a democratic decision to head down the Trans Pennine way in the direction of Red House Farm was made.

The cycling this morning was superb, a warm breeze, blue skies and a no rush no push pace added to the perfection of the morning.

Wafting along the tree lined cycle path was a delight, breaks in the hedgerows giving views of the agricultural greenery of the Cheshire plain then here and there plunged into almost dusk like conditions where dense trees blotted out the sky.

The cafe was not busy, a mixed group of veteran cyclists and another couple already enjoying lunch, consequently service was double quick, especially as there was no need to peruse a menu. Two cream teas were very soon on the table and very soon were being enjoyed. A slow and deliberate consumption of scones, loaded with butter, jam and clotted cream took place, mmm, delicious. Diet? What diet! Along with the pot of tea it was a perfect lunch.

Back on the road and cycle track we were soon at the foot of Warburton Bridge and decided that as we had made such good progress on the ride we would have time to have a closer look at the ancient Warburton church. Being tucked away and out of sight from the busy road the now unused church and yard lies in quiet solitude demanding investigation of the occasional visitor.

The church is around one thousand years old and from time to time has been subject to rebuilding though to one side is the original wattle and daub black and white timbered wall. Unfortunately entry to the church cannot be gained so we had to be satisfied with a look round the headstones and gravestones. One particular grave took John’s interest, that of a dignitary and his wife, deceased in the seventeen hundreds, who hailed from Tunbridge Wells, London. John remarked on the remarkable journey it must have been by coach in those distant days, I agreed, it could well have been why he was buried here.

Once again we were back on Dam Head lane and Holcroft Lane heading back to Lymm, pleased also that due to the road closure traffic along this length was light allowing an extension of trouble free cycling.

Soon we were back in Daisy Hill were we had our parting of ways, after of course a break and chat, a bonus was that we were also way ahead of the ‘school run’ the curse of cyclists everywhere. So there we have it, Indian Summer, cream tea , headstones and gravestones and a perfect days cycling.      

Not an ordinary Day Lymm festival 29.6.2014.

Not an ordinary Day

Lymm festival 29.6.2014.

Looking at our old photos, Bolton clarion history, I was intrigued by the group of Bolton clarion cyclists surrounding the village monument in the centre of Lymm. A fair number had made the trip from Bolton and I wondered if we could perhaps recreate a bit of history with a re-enactment of the photo from the nineteen twenties. Little did I know what just such a venture would bring.

Lymm may be just another village passed on the way to a more distant point for some but for me it is the link to my personal cycling history.

My first ever proper bike ride was to Lymm, prior to that my cycling was restricted to batting round the council estate on something that resembled a bike, today rubbish bikes are referred to as ‘bike shaped objects’ but they would have been classed as good then. Those were the days when we were still recovering from a world war and rationing of food, fags and sweets still in force and the bike was king.

I had a cousin into cycling, Winnie, a very competent cyclist was she, about five years my senior, as a member of the St.Christopher cycling club she had many miles behind her. Winnie it was who introduced me to a whole new world, freedom and love of the open road with a ride along country lanes leading to the village of Lymm. I was liberated! At the time I did not realise just how liberated I would become.  

It transpired that the invitation to a bike ride was in a way a trial as on returning to Winnie’s uncle George asked, ‘how did he do’, ‘well alright I suppose’, I suspect however she may have been of assistance up Firs Brow to Four Lane ends. At thirteen, on my first ‘proper’ bike ride, on a ‘bike shaped object’ I doubt very much I could be considered a future world beater.

Uncle George then took me into the back yard and opened the shed door, ‘what do you think of that?’. There before me was a Norman sports bike, a nice shiny green with chrome everywhere. A little bemused I stood and gawped, what was I supposed to say, such a bike had never been within my or my parents reach. I went weak at the knees as uncle George declared, ‘it’s yours’, I could just not believe what I was hearing, I was stunned. The bike had been bought for Winnie’s younger sister but on her first ride out with the club she cut the ride short, returned home with a vow never to touch the bike again, and I was now blessed with the ownership.

That first ride to Lymm was so indelibly etched into me that I felt an affinity with the village, to me it was a magical place, so far removed from where I was brought up, almost like a spiritual home. Time and again I was drawn back, each visit just as enjoyable as the last, after all I was seeing things you just don’t see on a Farnworth council estate, things like garden orchards with apples, pears and plums along the way. I had my first encounter in the Dingle at Lymm with a red squirrel, you certainly did not see these beautiful little animals in Farnworth, it was a moment to savour. I was walking in the wooded Dingle, it was so quiet and suddenly the squirrel was in front of me, for a brief moment we stared at each other then suddenly it was gone in a scampering hate behind one of the huge trees. It may have gone but it has stayed in my memory forever.

 

As a consequence of the re-enactment of the Lymm historic photo the story was picked up by the organisers of the Lymm Festival with an invite to lead the parade into the village on the opening day. Well for me it was a no brainer, I was going and that was definite. Peter Moore, our secretary was sent the invite along with a copy of a book tracing the history of Lymm and district which was interesting in its own right but a highlight was a section outlining clarion history and the impact cycling had.

It was agreed that the club would wholeheartedly support the Festival and arrangements were made and details distributed among members.

On the day the support from members was great and we duly assembled at Broomedge along with the rest of the parade participants, greater in number and variety than we could have imagined. Cars, tractors, motor bikes, vintage and veteran, all getting ready for the short trip into the village then on to the showgound, and of course we were given the honour of leading the cavalcade.

Great though the honour was and the pleasure felt, it was nothing to the feelings I had on entering the village, huge crowds were gathered and as we appeared loud applause, cheering, waving and clapping greeted us. In my seventy six years I have never been so moved at a public event, I was close to tears, my memories now of Lymm could be construed as complete, though no doubt I will continue to visit from time to time, hopefully on my bike.