What's in a menu?

What’s in a Menu?

The heading seems simple enough, what’s in a menu? Well a bit more than I bargained for as I made a bid to begin completing members choices for the extensive menu on offer for Christmas lunch at the Cherry Tree restaurant.

Constant eyeing of the list tells me that despite frequent posting there are still hard to reach members who have not yet indicated their preferences.

Bright idea!

Having printed a few flyers of the menu I decided that I would join the A ride on an easy Cheshire jaunt to Knutsford and hand them out to those who have not yet sent their details. I have in mind Dave Hession and Bob Hodgins, surely these two would take advantage of an easy ride.

I made my way to Four Lane Ends, not wishing to ride from the town centre and suffer the ignominy of grovelling off the back while wending up Derby street and St. Helens road. My recent diet regime has seen my weight soar thereby making anything of an upward inclination an acute aerobic exercise bordering on anaerobic.

 I arrived at the crossroads and was soon joined by Charlie Whittle, on his bike, surprise, surprise, as the night before he was adamant he would not be out on his bike and would only meet me to take a menu.

Soon other A ride participants arrived looking lean and mean, at least the downhill start to Atherton should be easy, well easy ish, as I had chosen to ride a fixed gear steed for the outing.

I had chosen a gear that normally would keep me in touch on an easy ride, high enough to twiddle in comfort and just about low enough to keep the others in sight on hills a fair bit less than steep.

Having chosen the ‘right’ gear I soon found even on the flat my knees were imitating the up and down cadence of a bee’s wings, others around me were pedalling at a far more leisurely gait, ah well, good for the ‘suppleness’, only trouble was I was feeling like I was in time trial mode. So much for easy paced winter tick over effort, much vaunted in the cycling mags.

 We followed the GPS to Knutsford via Little Bollington and Rostherne, taking in Tatton Park, sighting of the red deer with huge antlers adding to the attractiveness of the park.

On a morning that was expected to be foggy and frosty, I had dressed accordingly, lots of merino wool, base layers, other layers, top layers, longs over shorts, neoprene socks over other socks, overshoes and tucked inside of my shoes I had added little ‘hotties’, little sachets that emit warmth for a claimed five hours or so. As it turned out the morning was quite mild for strenuous cycling which meant that attired as I was I arrived at the supermarket cafe well and truly wet with sweat, soaked but warm.

After a nice break we got back on the bikes, as a precaution I had my painkillers and red bull beforehand, dicky knees, despite being well wrapped against the cold are troublesome after an extended stop.

The sight of Bernard and Mike on the front as we left Knutsford was an indication of a hot pace developing and so it proved, no prisoners taken. A couple of cyclists ahead in the lanes proved an irresistible target and the pace was upped accordingly. The cyclists we passed dropped into our wheels but later one of them shot past us then dangled just in front struggling to maintain his momentum, a motorway bridge quickly took his legs and he was back in the pack.

As we dropped down Broomedge at speed I extended my thoughts to Hollins Green, today had given me a more than useful bit of training, I decided to drop off the group and ride home at a more civilised pace, enough’s enough as they say.

I passed the word to Charlie who declared he would drop off with me but the only trouble was he had Danny Leech’s water bottle in his carrier, and Danny was up the road by now. Charlie began to chase and fortune intervened, someone up front had punctured so the group came to a halt, a bottle that may never have been returned was duly delivered.

With a smile on my face at the announcement of puncture, I rode past at a leisurely pace, much better than eye balls out stuff. Charlie joined me and much to my surprise so did Brian Timms then further up the road we were passed by Danny and William Cocker. The latter pair disappeared up Holcroft lane at pace while I sought the shelter of Charlies back wheel.

I made it back to Lovers lane where I left Brian and Charlie, I was on my own, I could now switch off completely. I know not why but when I switch off and ride more slowly, my legs begin to go on strike and I am reduced to a slow crawl, I’m sure this was not on the menu.

At Daisy Hill I decide to make use of the bigger sprocket on the other side of the back hub, surely the going will be easier, it was but only on the flat bits where I rolled along as if just finishing a time trial. Another reason for rolling along was the fact I needed to recover to attack the short but steep Meriden Grove, I have to keep face with neighbours possibly looking on, being on fixed gear of any size requires a monster effort to crest the top.

Phew, made it, and once inside a pint of hot milk from the microwave, wonderful pinnng machines are they, and a collapse into the armchair.

After several drinks of tea, coffee and hot cordial I eventually relieved myself and discovered the reason for my lack of ability to rotate the pedals, dehydration, the peculiar orange dark colour of my pee told the tale.

Though a cold day, the need to drink is still a necessary requirement, being over dressed, over worked and overheated I paid the penalty, knackered, allied to this state is of course, fitness, or lack of.

So you see I bit off a bit more of the menu than was wise, in future the post box may be a wiser option.                 

High-intensity interval training is time-efficient and effective, study suggests

High-intensity interval training is time-efficient and effective, study suggests

(a tale of two skin suits in the combined clubs 25 mile TT.)

Stretched Skin Suits, Stretched Stories.

(a tale of two skin suits in the combined clubs 25 mile TT.)

5 am. and I am groping for the alarm clock, can it really be time to get up, it’s pitch black outside yet and I am sorely tempted to get back in bed but manfully resist the temptation.

I move round like a zombie, I am in need of an urgent shot of caffeine and head for the kitchen and put on the fast boil kettle, ah that’s a bit better, the mug of coffee is doing its work.

I sit immobile in the chair, am I mad, have I really entered a twenty five mile time trial, slowly I begin to feel alive, of course I’m doing the time trial, I’m the carrot for the club members to chase.

I deliberately put my name as first man on the Bolton team, if I just lollop round it will make the others feel good as they pass, good for the morale to pass someone on a time trial, as opposed to being passed by anyone and everyone. Today I am the morale booster.

We have a good entry this year, nine in total, and as it is also our club 25 championship it should be an interesting event.

We’ll get to that later, I need my porridge now, boost the carbohydrates, follow it with my daily aspirin and a second mug of coffee then on to my ablutions.

Check bag, all packed and nothing forgotten, hopefully, load the car up, bike, turbo trainer and bag. I am now fully awake and ready to go.

The weather is fine but with a rising wind, the direction of which would seem to be favourable for the circuit, a tail wind across an exposed section that is normally a grovel into the prevailing westerlies. The course is not a bad one if you discount the terrible road surface in one particular section, the problem being it is a circuit and it’s two times round the block so to speak.

On the motorway I have time to plan my ride, just to get round the full 25 miles will seem like an achievement after a summer dogged by a chest infection that seemed at times to be endless.

Right, no heroics, just a steady pace that guarantees a start and a finish, ignore the fly by boys, enter the ‘zone’ and stay there.

The HQ car park is empty bar two cars as I reach Catterall and I notice with dismay the hall is not yet open, I am desperate for a wc, and getting more desperate by the minute. More cars arrive, the Bury clarion boys arrive, turbo trainers are set up then eventually the doors to the hall open  and I am first to dash in and pounce on the loo, ah relief!

Ian Littlewood arrives dressed in the same attire as myself, the red yellow and black skin suits of a few years ago, it is apparent that lycra has a wonderful ability to stretch, and stretch and stretch, Mr Blobby and son have arrived.

       

Albert Winstanley remembered.

What a fantastic day to remember Albert and his local 

favourite haunts. This year more cyclists beyond the 

clarion turned out to remember a local cycling legend. A 

mix of Bolton clarion, Lancashire road club and 

representation from a favourite organisation of Albert's, 

the Rough Stuff Fellowship, to whom much of Albert's 

archive was donated. The weather was all we could 

wish for, the crystal clear views from Affetside across 

the moors were stunning, the previous year was an 

absolute opposite with heavy rain drowning the event, 

but did little to dampen the spirit of Albert's memory. 

The route took in local lanes through Harwood Affetside 

and Edgeworth. In keeping with Albert's passion for off 

road tracks the rough stuff lane down to the back of

 Turton Tower was a highlight for some but not to the 

liking of some of the strictly tarmac boys. The event 

went well with a tea and coffee break at the cafe on the 

crossroads in Edgworth, here we had the unusual event 

of the proprietor taking photos of our happy band. A 

final teapot stop was taken at Turton tower, this was in 

keeping with Albert's memory rather than of necessity, 

the tower was one of his favourites. From Turton the 

group made their own way home after a really 

successful event.

 John Mann managed to add a real thrill to the ride 

dropping down at speed into Bromley Cross he 

developed a speed wobble that gave him a huge fright, 

he will strictly adhere now to 20 mph maximum when 

freewheeling.

Albert's memorial ride.

                                   Following Albert.

A nice easy ride round Albert's local favourite haunts, a friendly social ride that anyone can join in, you don't have to be a club member. Just turn up, you can be assured of a friendly greeting. 

albert winstanley memorial ride

Albert Winstanley Memorial Ride Bank Holiday Monday 26th August

Bolton clarion cycling club will be celebrating the life of Bolton’s celebrated cycling author, Albert Winstanley who passed away last year. Albert’s books were treasured by cyclists worldwide, his enquiring mind constantly delving into historical events and local history and linking what he unearthed to his lifelong passion for cycling. Albert was also a prolific contributor to the countries cycling magazines, his monthly articles sought and collected by touring cyclist eager to follow his travels. The Yorkshire Dales and the Lake district intrigued him greatly but he also had a passion for the emerald green of Ireland.

Living all his married life in Bradshaw also allowed him to enjoy much of Bolton’s surrounding countryside which he continued to do so until into his early nineties.

Bolton clarion invite local cyclists to enjoy a short cycle ride taking in one or two of Albert’s favourite places of interest.

Meeting at the front of Canon Slade school, (Albert lived opposite the school) from where the ride will commence at 10.am. the ride will progress through Harwood, on to Tottington road and resting a while by the Affetside memorial. A coffee break at Edgeworth will be enjoyed followed by a trip across the reservoirs, the Strawberry Duck inn bisecting the Wayoh and Entwistle waters. The ride will visit Turton Tower, much loved by Albert, after which the ride will conclude back at Bradshaw via Bromley Cross.

Attending the ride will be John Mann, a constant cycling companion of Albert’s for many years, John also featured in the many illustrations that accompanied the articles Albert so graphically described.

   

 On the back of the photo in Albert's own hand is written, 'Sir Richard Bernard Cuthbert-De Hoghton, the 14th Baronet of Hoghton holds my bicycle in the courtyard of Hoghton Tower'. This is testament to Albert's affable nature and being able to communicate with practically anyone.

Bolton clarion 200 k reliability 2013

Club 200 kilometre Reliability Ride.

The day of the club reliability ride was getting close, would I wouldn’t I make a final attempt to complete what has to be a supreme way of explaining the true meaning of ‘self flaggelation’.

For a week I mused, have I done enough miles, no. Have I got the fitness, no. Am I fit enough, no. What about the weather, it’s been very changeable lately with lots of breezy days and lots of rain.

I studied the local forecast daily and Sunday appeared to be favourable weather wise, with one big exception, the wind. Wind direction, and strength is a crucial component on this, our challenging reliability ride. Wind strength from a westerly direction read 20 mph, wow, add to that expected gusts of 30-35 mph. All this was expected to be at the strongest just as the stretch from Hellifield to Slaidburn was to be tackled. Past experience tells me it is going to be hard.

The first part of the ride should be partly wind assisted, Bolton to Pendle though is quite hard so any assistance is welcome.

I bade farewell to our super fit band of happy members at the beginning of the long sweat inducing climb from Bradshaw over to Hawkshaw, these days I am happy to do so. My own pace is much slower than theirs and I have only one thing to prove these days, can I still at seventy five complete the 200 k.

A few showers were of little consequence as the ride through Rawtenstall and Burnley proceeded and to my joy the wind direction was indeed of great assistance.

Barley visitor centre was reached and I looked for a water tap to fill my bottle, to my dismay the tap on the toilet wall had disappeared. Having another bottle as yet untouched I decided to push on and try again at Bolton by Bowland toilets. At this time the other Clarion lads began to vacate the cafe at the visitor centre, I wasn’t that far behind them yet, and was greeted with the question, ‘have you seen Chris ?’ It seems Chris having dropped off the back on the long haul up to Fence, a real toughie that one, arrived at the T junction and was nonplussed as to which way to go next, he guessed wrong.

I set off to tackle the next lung buster up the side of the mighty Pendle, all of a sudden a ferocious downpour of rain came lashing down, pain and rain on Pendle, boy, just what we need.

One by one the fellow club members passed me but as they regrouped at the top I carried on my merry way thankful of the swoop down to Downham, the prettiest village in Lancashire, thankful also that the rain had just as suddenly ceased.

With a fair wind still on the left shoulder the leg from Chatburn to Hellifield  was quite comfortable, a selection of a nice low gear and a steady plod was enough to surmount the steady climb. I paused only to fill my bottle at the toilet block in Bolton by Bowland, disappointed only in that half of the ‘white powder’ in one of the number of plastic bags secreted in my saddlebag , finished up on the floor .

Wigglesworth was reached and by now the dreaded wind direction was becoming apparent, I was heading into purgatory.

Purgatory began as I reached the open moorland, ok the steep bits were also hard, but I’ll struggle on them regardless of wind direction, the predicted thirty mph gusts were not far off the mark.

The war of attrition against the wind was briefly interrupted at Slaidburn, the sheltered valley which the village nestles was by now bathed in warm sunshine with visitors enjoying the country delights. Less delightful was the fact that the toilet block still has no running water, even the outside taps for washing hikers boots have now been disabled, I need a refill for my bottle and therefore left Slaidburn a little disgruntled.

Matters were put to right further up the road at Dunsop Bridge where the toilets have all facilities up and running including an outside tap ideal for filling bottles.

Bottles filled and suspicious white powder added, again with copious amounts of it finishing on the pavement, I sought the comfort of a bench on the village green to take a well earned break. I was just finishing a Snickers bar and watching a crowd of noisy ducks being fed when from the Puddleducks cafe streamed a full compliment of Clarion jerseys, Bolton clarion ones at that. Surprise, surprise, I thought they would have been in Chorley by now, service must still be slow at the cafe.

As I left Dunsop Bridge I passed the community centre and was surprised at the lack of custom at the tea room, even the car park was empty and just one bicycle propped outside.

As I began the rolling road that culminates with the dreaded pass of the ‘Trough’ something even more dreaded happened, cramp, oh no, as if the ride has not been hard enough. Getting out of the saddle and stretching the hamstrings seemed to alleviate it to some degree but effort back in the saddle brought it on again. A series of in and out of the saddle eventually led to it subsiding and I continued with my conquest of the Trough.

I use the term ‘conquest’ advisedly as the use of ‘shank’s pony’ in deference to ‘granny ring’ was brought into play for the second time today.

The swoop down the other side, headwind or no was sheer heaven and the next few miles were also enjoyed even if they brought me closer to the next big misery and delight of the day, talk about the agony and the ecstasy, the tower on the hill, Jubilee Tower.

Another short shank’s pony up the 20% start to the final ascent then it was a low geared crawl to the summit. There was a little more to see by now than the tarmac in front of me, the afternoon was indeed glorious, blue sky and fluffy white clouds that moved across the sky a good deal quicker than I was moving. Views across the Fylde in stunning clarity were beheld and as I did as a kid, inwardly declared, ‘I can see Blackpool Tower’.

My preference though at this time was a close up view of Jubilee Tower bringing to an end the ‘agony and the ecstasy’.        

A brief stop at the tower where I talked a lady into snapping me as proof I made it this far before the helter skelter descent to Quernmore cross road, where again a by now for me, a traditional resting and eating place before the final much easier leg of the ride. Incidentally, the husband of the lady expressed amazement at the fact I was from Bolton, so too were they, in the comfort of a car though.

Time to move my weary bones toward Bolton via the lap of the Fylde, despite the suffering of the mega hills being behind me, the knowledge that a blustery outward leg of the Fylde circuit may be life threatening, I was content to face it.

The Garage at the end of the Fylde circuit made a welcome stop to again refill water bottles and as refreshment, a litre of milk, a grand mix of carbs and protein. A couple of muesli bars and two thirds of the milk later I began the last leg of the epic adventure down the old familiar A6.

A final brief stop in the lea of the Morman church at Chorley before the easy drop into town had me thinking I was as good as home. As good as the nice easy drop into Chorley was it did not compare to the rapturous feeling I had when flying down Chorley New road at over twenty mph and hardly touching the pedals. Triumph over adversity never felt better, to top it all, the town hall clock gave me a big bong as I approached the town hall square signalling the quarter hour.

So eleven and three quarters of an hour after setting off in the morning I was back where I started, in a considerably worse state though, but after 126 miles taking on a route deliberately designed to live up to the title of, Bolton Clarion 200 kilomtre Reliability Ride,  it was hardly surprising.. Next year ?