Bolton Clarion Newsletter
One Hundred and Ten Years Of Cycling in Bolton
Club championship rides... New club night at Bob’s Smithy... York Rally....Clarion Sec. resigns...
Bolton Cycling Initiative...
Delivery round news...The boy with the black stuff...
Dave Hession’s Italian Job....Pete in the fast Lane....
All night ride....Pumping it up to Knott End....Fixed wheel nuts.... Peter Moore on the B rides....
Jaynes locked to the rails, and no Tarzan
Thunder and Lightning in Lakeland....Watered down time trials... Germany? did it really happen?
Windmills round Blackpool...
Heart rates, big breakfasts and Roughlee...
Combined clubs 25....
Did you like the last newsletter?
ell I was asked a number of times about putting cartoons back into the newsletter so despite close deadlines I set to and managed a couple. As you will note the subjects were on a personal level highlighting the little trials dedicated club men, or women, have to overcome. The fact that these problems can be looked at from a slightly different perspective, black humour for my part, allows club life
in the main to carry on.
Looking ahead
As I look forward while beginning the next newsletter, my eye is drawn to July 22" the date of the club fifty mile championship. What is significant about the date and event is that I will be riding it. I must be mad!
Paul’s all night ride, again I must be mad, but this ride oddly enough is hugely enjoyable, I kid you not.
Eureka café, amazingly it is still open, we might get to see Chris Boardman. Blackpool, a good try out for those wanting to ride the Manchester to Blackpool charity ride.
Before we know where we are I am looking at the first designated winter ride.
I have scant information on the Two Hundred Kilometre ride other than to say all who set off to do the ride finished, sorry all but one. The one failure highlights the fact that this ride is a very tough ride. The rider concerned is quite a proficient cyclist but was lacking
regular miles on the clock. York Rally
Several club members made the trip to York for the CTC rally, a group made a mini tour of the Dales getting there, a couple rode over on their own in the day, and rode back again. Stephen Menhams is reported as having gone solely for the huge car boot sale there, if Steve’s panniers were bulging when he got there I wonder what they looked like when he was going home. Steve I might say is one of the few cyclists remaining that only goes anywhere on his bike, work, shopping, car booting, a real character is Steve.
The Clarion Stand continues to gain interest, many ex members stopping for a chat who were quite surprised to find we still exist, and even more surprised to find we are increasing our sections around the country again. Even the President of the York Rally committee, who stopped to enquire how we were doing, was pleased that the stall was encouraging new members. Can you imagine that happening in the early nineteen hundreds?
2
Sadly, Albert Winstanley could not make the trip over, an attack of poorly symptoms on the morning of the departure forced him to wisely reconsider.
The campsite at the racecourse seems to expand every year, this time I was allocated a spot somewhere near the northern hemisphere, a good bike ride away from the nearest portable loo. A thought has just struck me, perhaps next year I will fit a tow bar to my vehicle and drag the ‘portaloo’ adjacent to my tent space. One of our members always has
a bottle handy in his tent clearly marked in bold, ‘P bottle’.
Whilst writing this York article, our web correspondent Rodney rings to say that Charles Jepson, our national secretary has resigned. Bombshell!
Another startling piece of info from the weekend, perhaps more important than Charles’s resignation is that the Chevin pub, well beloved of Bolton clarion members over the years, has been burnt down in a really sensational series of events. The landlord, allegedly, murdered his wife then burnt down the pub. I distinctly remember the way he, (the landlord) looked at us when we went last August Bank Holiday weekend, if you care to look back to last years news, july/sept. you will note my comments on the way we were ‘appraised’.
There are conflicting comments on the York Rally show, a lot depends on ones own perception of events. find that things may have slowed a little since the debacle of ‘The Millennium Cycle Fest’, a year that alienated many regular rally fans. All in though I find after many, many years of attending that it is still a unique event on the cycling calendar.
Others fairly new to following the show seem to be of the opinion that things are slowing down and interest waning. I tend to think that perhaps it is their interest that may be on the wane.
I believe that a long awaited return to the ‘Minster’ is on the cards for next years Sunday morning service, whatever the reasons for the well meant departure and return to a long standing tradition, I say that is good news. Not being a religious person myself I believe that those who did not attend the alternative place of worship still gathered to take part in the colourful cavalcade ride back to the racecourse. Photo’s taken against the backdrop of the mighty cathedral of the huge gathering of cyclists from all over the world are indeed testimony to the passion we all share, that of cycling.
Anyone for Secretary?
Foowns the bombshell of our National Secretary resigning it would seem that once again we have succeeded, for whatever reasons, to have shot ourselves in the foot.
I say we merely as a formality, being the membership we do have a say in how the club is run. Whether or not we use our right to dictate the rules etc is down to the individual. The letter from Ian Clarke, always the level headed one is Ian, pinpoints the reason for the resignation and regretfully accepts the situation.
A stand in Secretary will be appointed by the committee to see the rest of the year out.
3
Will we see again someone of the standing of Charles Jepson, I fear not but live in hope. Charles was in his own way a revolutionary breath of fresh air, he liked to get things done, he dislikes intensely the rules and regulations that tie down individuals. He likes to be able to have the freedom of choice, within reason of course, and is not opposed entirely to structured organisation. Charles did more in a short space of time than many before him, not to the liking of every one I admit but still, he did get things done.
Whilst having a keen interest in the history of the clarion, Charles Jepson did not, like some, bury himself in the past with a burning desire to relive those days. Charles was very much a present day man who looked to further the cyclists lot, enjoyed all that cycling brings, mountain biking, track riding at our wonderful nearby facility, the velodrome. The odd time trial, despite loathing the governing bodies rules and regs, was endured, particularly the Wortley Hall ‘ten’.
I dread the return to stuffy pedantic politics enjoyed to the extreme by some, as I said, I cannot see eye to eye with Charles on everything but I will definitely miss his drive, enthusiasm, and organisational skills.
Anyone in Bolton fancy the job? You will have a chance to vote Charles’s successor at the
Easter Meet next year at Hereford.
27.6.06. Cycling group meeting Bolton arena.
Fantastic news, the group received their first step toward funding, ten thousand pounds. Clive Bryan, Treasurer, was delighted. Almost in the same breath it was explained that the money was already spoken for and waiting to be transferred out of the account, as soon as Clive has the account up and running.
The group is however moving toward formalisation and work on structuring cycle initiatives is now ongoing.
News Delivery Items.
I include the following as there is always something of note whilst delivering the newsletters.
It is amazing how many members live up near the top of hills, delivering on fixed wheel certainly keeps the bellows working.
A skip outside Andy Ascrofts had me wondering if I was at the right address, plonked on top of the skip was a rather large pram. It turned out his mother had deposited it there, when was Andy last in the pram I would like to know.
On my way to Little Hulton I decided to try the cycle path now under construction, the hairs on my neck began to tingle as I found myself at the exact spot where Quentin Smith was brutally murdered many years ago.
A little further on I pass close to where a boy out of my class at school drowned whilst trying to save his little brother who also died. I was about nine at the time and had swum in the same reservoir and caught sticklebacks there as well.
4
Calling at Frank Myers I was lucky to find at him home recuperating after a winters hard graft and looking for that enthusiasm to get up and go again. realised he was serious when he told me he had even been out with his heart rate monitor on, not having used it for years. He apparently can only raise his heart rate to eighty beats per minute on the flat and one twenty on very steep hills. Can’t be much wrong there Frank, the last time I saw info like that it was a write up on ‘Big Mig Indurain’ and he was winning his fifth Tour de France. I think Frank got the monitor from Bobby Clamp.
A call at Albert Winstanley’s is always interesting. Albert showed me a copy of the BEN’s Bolton at War mag. and Albert is featured in a double page spread.
I found Ian Tipping at home whilst delivering his copy, these days a rare event, Tony Whittle has been seen more than him lately. A couple of weeks or so and we will be seeing more of him.
The first recipient of this edition went to Ken Hahlo, I was really surprised how well Ken looked after only nine days after breaking his femur on those dreaded railway lines at Preston. Ken was already mobile, albeit with crutches, but his whole outlook was so positive. Ken was so much impressed by the staff at Preston Infirmary, and, seeing his remarkable recovery, so too am I. Best wishes from all Ken.
Bob’s Smithy.
As I write this part up I am reminded that tomorrow night is the first club night at Bob’s Smithy. Rod took it on himself to try to revive a flagging event and duly published the info on the web. Jim Horrocks went up three weeks early, before it even started, keen is our Jim.
Guess who will not be at the first one, none other than Rodney, he and Bernard are in Hereford for the week. In true Black Adder and Baldrick style Bernard is sleeping under the caravan. I myself will not be there, no not under the caravan, the pub. I get so despondent these days when support for the club is flagging.
have just ridden a twenty five mile time trial in the hottest conditions I have ever done
a time trial in. On returning to the HQ. I had a good wash and finished with a dousing in cold water, instead of cooling me I began to sweat more than I had on the ride, perhaps I should have tried harder.
Spotted
Called at Ken Bath’s looking for race news items but found out other interesting stuff, black stuff.
Ken answered the door, hands black with oil and grease, must be tinkering with the MG I thought. Ushered through to the back I was in awe of the bits and pieces scattered all over the garden. That in itself was no surprise, after all I myself am guilty of scattering tools and bike bits. The surprise, or shock, was the fact that all the bits were motor bike bits in the process of being degreased or full of paint stripper. Ken produced a manual, ‘this what it should look like’ says Ken. I look at the photo on the front and look again at the multitude of bits, a project of patience is in prospect.
Is Ken losing his interest in cycling, no way, this is just another challenge presented by E- Bay, resist the bargain if you can.
Bob’s Smithy, I relent.
Ok, so I relented and made my way up to Bob’ Smithy for the first of the once a month meetings. I am a nosey so and so and could not resist the temptation to see who would be interested. As usual I had to sit on my own for a long while waiting for someone, anyone, to arrive.
It took me twenty minutes in an evening of unbelievable heat to climb all the way up to the pub from my house, the non stop climbing certainly had me gasping for that first drink. Riding my four speed Moulton in bottom gear was partly the reason for the gasping.
I sat outside taking in the view across Bolton and Manchester, the pub is certainly well situated for viewing, and looking for landmarks helped to pass the time.
Hooray, Pal Hackin arrives quickly followed by Clive, who in turn arrives just in front of Pete and his wife Jane. Ten minutes later Rapha Brown turns up riding his new 753 Pete Mathews, a nice white with world championship rings on the seat tube.
A man and his dog approach, no prizes for guessing who but the dog answers to Jack and the handler to ‘Stan Clog’.
With nine members being present I had at last some info for the newsletter, topics being the ride to Wildboarclough, the thunderstorm and torrential rain. Brian Firth’s blow up, the B ride, and Paul’s claim for a new bike against his boss who told him he could put his bike in a safe place, under a bus presumably.
A.O.B. arrives in his new big van and informs us that it ideal for work as he can get a bed in the back? no mention of bikes, odd.
The great thing for me as we are ready to depart is that I can virtually freewheel to my front door from here, great stuff.
Dave’s Italian Job
Dave Hession reports on his experience riding a ‘Grande Fondo’. A large entry of some six thousand riders took part, riders of all abilities apparently, with a choice of distances. Dave opted for the ‘big one’ and though he did really well, he suffered. The great thing is Dave finished well up in the great scheme of things and is now looking forward to a trip over to France for another dose of suffering on an ‘Etape’. A good deal of training is now required, a little less elbow bending but a little more knee bending. I can report though that Dave is in fine shape, frequent trips to the velodrome and regular trips to Twin Lakes are keeping his fitness finely balanced.
Pete’s tumbling times.
Pete Lane’s re-emergence as a time trialist is turning out to be quite remarkable, he is now down to lhr.4minutes for a twenty five miler. This is better by far than he did many years ago. He has though found that some things about time trailing do not change, the weather for one. Pete took the now well known route up to Levens, looking for that bit of extra speed. On arrival though the wind was howling, like gale force, and many entrants did not bother to ride. Pete gutted it out, down to fourteen miles per hour at times into the wind, knowing that at least he was in some great company. Bradley Wiggins no less, looking to sharpen up for the ‘Tour’ prologue, managed a nineteen minute ride. Since Pete made no mention (out of modesty) of his ride I guess he must have been pretty close to that as well.
All Night Ride Another good event.
Arriving at the usual meeting place, the Black Dog Belmont, I am immediately gobsmacked by the sight of two apparitions, Tony Whittle and Ian Tipping. I use the term ’apparitions’ because it is so long since they have been seen, I don’t believe it.
Eventually all participants are present, the magnificent seven, a loose description as you will see. Jim Horrocks, on a ‘new bike’, Paul Hackin, one time Audax rider, St. Helens Bob, with another new lighting set up, the afore mentioned apparitions, myself and Rapha Brown.
A nice evening ensured the presence of loads of midges outside the pub causing a hasty retreat inside where I found the midges had been more welcoming than the pub that charges two pounds eighty four pence for a pint of lager and lime. I had presumed that spraying myself with insect repellent I would not have been stung, how naive can one be. Setting off for the night ride everything went well, until my dynamo headlamp suddenly went out, never to see light again. So much for the reliability of dynamo lighting, my backup light, battery of course, saw me through the night.
Against weather predictions the night was a little cooler than expected but was not too cold, it reminded me that I really should have packed my leg warmers.
7
The night was also forecast as clear skies and a full rising moon seemed like that part may be correct, however that proved a little false as well. Cloud came over and the lanes were as black as it was possible to be. Still, riding the lanes in such conditions always reminds me of the romantic sketches of Patterson in cycle magazines that still recognise the magic of his work.
Arriving in Chipping we once again surprise the locals who are leaving the pubs a little worse for wear, they can’t quite believe what they are seeing. Here is our first stop for a drink and a bite to eat, a flask is still an indispensable item on a night ride providing a nice hot drink. A brief stop at the top of Jeffrey Hill before the descent to Chipping gave cause for concern. Paul took photos and of course being night the auto flash all but blinded us before the downward rush. I might mention that you can see Blackpool Tower from here, who says you can’t see anything riding in the night.
The next leg is toward Dunsop Bridge. Quickly after comes the Trough of Bowland, though not so quickly ridden, especially by me. The bright rear lights ahead of me reduce in number as I drop off the back, until just one remains, Jim is likewise struggling upwards. We are not too far behind though and the descent to Forton is a welcome relief, I love this side of the Trough. Whilst climbing the Trough we encountered a little rain, very unexpected, but fortunately the shower soon passed.
We arrive at Forton around the same time as usual and look forward to a couple of hours relaxation, lots of coffee and a doze if you can manage it. We are ready to roll at five thirty, dawn has broken outside and Scorton is next on our route. It is along these lanes to Scorton that rabbits are in abundance scurrying along the road, often running alongside our wheels before disappearing through a gap in the hedge. This year the dawn is not so spectacular as it has been in the past, thick dark cloud masking the sky to the east.
The A6 is an attractive proposition at this time of morning, nice easy riding with virtually no traffic as we head toward Preston. Along the A6 is our final stop, breakfast at Macdonalds in Chorley, seven fifteen and all’s well. A large coffee and breakfast bun of bacon, eggs, and melted cheese is enough to get me home but a full break fast is the most popular order of the morning for the others.
For the first time ever I am home before eight thirty am. Feed the cat, who has been waiting patiently in the tub on the front garden, pot of tea a shower then into bed for a well earned kip. Sleep was a little hard to come by for a while but eventually I drifted off. Four hours later I am up and about but moving like a zombie between kitchen and settee with cups of tea. I managed to stay awake long enough to watch the ‘Tour’ but the world cup football match went by unseen, even though it was on the screen, I never even knew the final score. Will I do the night ride again next year, no, but then again I said that last year.
A motorist coming across us at a junction was amazed at having to wait for a group of cyclists at 1 in the morning in pitch dark lanes. Winding his window down he remarked that we must be a dedicated lot. From out of the dark came the auin ‘well it was this or sex’.
The Day After The Day Before 8
Knott End. 9.7.06.
What a weekend, All Night Ride, then a trip to Knott End with little recovery in between. The Sunday morning of the ride was a showery affair with many comments about the forecast, bright with sunny intervals they said. The A ride were still huddled under the trees on the town hall square as the B ride set of for a ride to Lytham, the rain was sheeting down. A few worried glances seemed to indicate what to do next, to me going home seemed a good option, I was still feeling a little listless after the all night ride round the Trough of Bowland. After a few suggestions as to the whereabouts of the nearest café, Clive came up with the sensible one of riding non-stop to Knott End.
The idea of riding non-stop came to an abrupt end when Rod punctured on the border of Horwich and Adlington, a point at which waterproofs were stowed away. By the time we were ready to go again, thanks to Bernard assisting Rod so ably, more showers began to drift across the front of us. Should we, shouldn’t we don jackets again, we didn’t, well not for a while anyway.
The showers continued as we rode up the A6, another stop to put back on our jackets was followed by another one to take them off, and so it continued. This non-stop riding is great.
Just as things seemed to settle down nicely Ian had a puncture, not far from Garstang, and set about showing us how not to repair punctures when in a group. To be fair Ian had also done the night ride and was a little off form. The stop gave us insight to the new and latest innovation for pumping tyres up to the correct pressures. A track pump that fits in a little pouch, takes no room up in the saddlebag, (what’s one of them?) and instead of pushing down you simply pull on a string and whalla, up goes the tyre. That’s the general idea anyway. Ten minutes after beginning to pull on the contraption, a red faced Ian, after several rests to look at the pressure gauge and a few brief pauses to put the item back under his foot, declares that the tyre is ‘pumped up’. Now if you picture a man in a boat, heading toward the drop zone of Niagra Falls, furiously trying to start his outboard motor, and failing, you will have some idea of how the latest pumping contraption works.
After a good deal of laughter by an un sympathetic audience we are able to continue, the new pump it seems is about as good as the five inch mini pump so loved by the minimalist, until they have to use it. God bless the Blackburn Airstick.
Our non-stop ride eventually gets us to Knott End where we are more than glad to settle down to all day breakfasts at an already packed café but soon we are all seated. Our table is serviced reasonably quickly, despite the busy time, and lunch passes enjoyably and leisurely. As we pay our dues and get ready to leave we find the rest of our group has not yet been served breakfasts, I now have time for a large double flavour cornet, vanilla and strawberry ripple.
The ferry across to Fleetwood is not in service due to the very strong winds, which are also driving more rain inland, it is a grey and bleak scene looking across the water. Will the strong winds that have blown up assist us on our journey home, or hinder, we will have to see.
9
Our non-stop ride continues on the homeward bound leg but after more stops due to the heavy showers we decide it is better to carry on without rainwear, after all it is very mild and it gets very hot inside waterproofs.
The route chosen skips Preston town centre, Preston Marina and the cycle way through
the park by the Ribble turns out to be a great option.
Leaving the cycleway at Bamber Bridge we have but a couple of climbs, not hard but at this time of day, and after a night ride as well, it is hard enough, before we reach Chorley. I for one am very glad to have got this far.
It’s funny you know how when a sixty eight year old, who has been on the front all day begins to flag a little, it engenders in the others a delight resulting in wanting to make sure he’s had it by giving him a good stuffing.
Ah well such is club life, roll on more one stop non-stop rides.
Useful info.
“I’m wearing a technical vest’ declared Jim on the night ride. Technical vest, what’s that, well I do believe it is a vest that is a ‘quicker wicker, wicker quicker’ garment worn next to the skin. I still prefer my Aldi Merino Wool Vest, now down to four ninety nine.
(latest,99p)
Over the last couple of years we have seen a growth in manufacturers producing road going track bikes, road/path as they were once known as years ago. To me this is great news, being a fixed wheel nut. The larger companies are producing real bargains, complete bikes at around £299 £499. Obviously there is a growing market and I would like to see youngsters being targeted more in this latest drive. It must be a great deal better for parents to be asked for an all purpose bike at these prices than a demand for what Lance rides at around two, three and four grand. For those who insist it is easier on gears I can only say it makes no difference when you are stuffed, any gear you choose has the same feeling, stuffed.
Irish Connection.
I called round to the Demon Barber’s shop while out on my bike, a local runaround on clarion business, just to see if Craig Smith is alive and kicking. Not having seen him for some time I was curious to see what he was up to, watching the ‘tour’ as it happens, as no customers were in evidence as I entered the shop.
Craig gave me the good news that Ryan was at that moment in Ireland riding the ‘Junior tour of Ireland’. Riding for a squad from the velodrome it seems. The downside of all Ryans involvement with racing is that Craig’s cycling has had to be put on the backburner as he has become the bring me, carry me, fetch me, domestique.
We wish Ryan well in his cycle racing.
10
Fred’s going well.
Fred Smith is doing ok of late, looks like the miles he has been doing in France are standing him in good stead. On the J2/9 recently he took the vets award on standard covering the twenty five miles in lhour 3 minutes 36 seconds. The week after Fred went over to Yorkshire and rode a vets road race. Fred worked hard with the leading group most of the way round and not too far from the finish, knowing he does not have the greatest sprint, went for glory only to be caught by the chasers just before the line. We can sympathise greatly with Fred after watching other gallant efforts come to nought in the European racing. It’s great that Fred and other vets in the club are holding this side of the clubs activities together.
Dave’s Progress
It has been reported that Dave Hessian is a changed man of late, regular training, weight loss, strong riding, everything seems to be coming together for Dave. I think his success in the ‘Grande Fondo’ has helped him realise his potential.
Having done one continental event Dave’s confidence is sky high and is now looking forward to his next foray abroad, an ‘Alpine Etape’. He is now a man inspired.
Dave has already indicated a desire to go for the track league again, but with conviction this time.
Anarchy on Clubrun?
It would seem that the (club?) ride to Howarth, 16.7.06. turned out to be something of a shambles, depending on who you listen to. A number of phone calls indicated a conflict of interests among the group setting off on the ‘A Ride’.
Desperate for a leader the group chased after Paul Hackin, thinking Paul was heading in their direction, only to be told, ‘I’m going to Roughlee’. Confusion reigned.
Getting their act together the ‘A Ride’ began to head toward Rochdale but as a leaderless group the ride developed into a mini catch me if you can affair.
By the time Rochdale was reached the tortoises and hares had been selected, as had two leaders, each with their own idea in mind as to how Hebden Bridge should be approached. The trouble was, the hares had lost touch with the tortoises and were on differing routes. Great stuff.
Into play came the dreaded mobile phones, what a way for a ride to communicate, and a common objective was established, or so they thought. Mobiles should only be allocated to the tribe that dominates town centres these days, the ‘whereareyou’ group that walk around with their treasured phone glued to their ear. Respect for the journal prevents me from divulging their true tribal name.
On a sweltering hot day one lot chose Blackstone Edge to warm up on, not to the liking of one individual who shall remain nameless, but he is a barber by profession, he found his ‘triple’ should have been a ‘quad’.
11
The tortoises chose the valley route to Hebden with a stop beyond the town, half way up the climb, Pecket Wells at the ice cream van. Good idea on what must have been the hottest day of the year, and at mid day too. Mad dogs and Englishmen springs to mind.
In true British stage farce tradition, the ice cream van was missing, probably half way up a ‘tour’ stage, and the hares not in sight. More mobile usage, why do people use semaphore as well when talking on the phone, and arrangements to meet in Howarth at a café were made.
Craig Smith was wondering why the meeting place had to be at the top of the steep cobbled hill instead of a café near the bottom.
Much discussion on the route home took place over a meal, heart burn was a problem for some on hearing various suggestions but a sensible one was that a stop be made at Wycollar. The group stayed together to Wycollar, only one person knowing the off road shortcut there, Bernard take a bow, where afternoon tea was taken. Those few short miles from Howarth were very hilly and I for one hate them, always have.
Leaving the café the ride once more headed for anarchy, those not knowing where they were found themselves in the up and down world of Trawden crossing a ford as they went. Steep hills prevail around here and all of a sudden it was a case of stuff this we’re heading for Burnley for some.
The remainder of the day calls into question the term ‘clubride’.
Bodies began to scatter on the climb out of Burnley and this was the easy way home, the hot sun and searing temperatures made the ride more akin to a ‘foreign legion’ route march in the Sahara. Hot tarmac and tar bubbles were all that some riders saw in front of them wending their way to the top of the climb that was inexplicably twice as long as usual.
Lonely individuals made their weary way back to Bolton, just a small number of really fit ones finishing the ride in good form.
Methinks that memories of this ride will be very colourful indeed, also I do remember leadership being discussed at a committee meeting, perhaps we may have to look at this
again.
12
Club Fifty Mile Championship
WwW the big day arrived and T was well prepared, or so T thought. Several weeks of reading up from training manuals about heart rates etc had me ready to try once more a fifty mile time trial. Forget the miles on the road bit, it’s all in the mind, so they say.
The day had a poignant edge to it, it was Amy’s birthday, so I had to try to justify my ride. In the year 2000 I made my one and only fifty mile time trial, not a good year really, I was recovering from a broken arm at the time, but I finished and recorded 2 hours 43 minutes and 38 seconds. In the six intervening years I can only say that my cycling has been the usual mix of club riding and club events with the opening and closing 25s with nothing in between. Six years, would I be slower, well I’d read more training books surely that will count for something.
The event was an evening event with a five pm start and I was off number 58. A rough calculation meant that I was scheduled to finish around 8.45. would I need my lights I wondered, Joan Bath reckoned not. How she could be more confident than me threw me, what did she know that I didn’t. Perhaps I just look fast.
Three times round the circuit, that’s all, with my heart rate at just over eighty per cent I should get the distance. My patented drinks bottle complete with high pressure valve fitted as a non return valve and high energy drink, should get me round with little difficulty. I reasoned that I should start to drink after one circuit, approximately sixteen miles. My drink system comprised a tube leading up to the bars, sticking up enough to be able to bend a little and take a quick swig every now and then, the system worked fine at home on a dummy run. Not today, just as I was gasping after a short uphill I bent over and began to drag on the mouthpiece, nothing. Still gasping from the effort I tried again with another great suck, I was getting more out of breath sucking than riding, panic set in, I needed the juice.
Five minutes of tugging at the tube as it entered the bottle while trying to keep a straight line riding was beginning to slow me down and I was getting more desperate for a drink. Eventually the tube came away from the bottle. That left me with the problem of trying to stop a plastic tube from flapping into my front wheel. After two attempts to tie the damn thing to my brake cables I was able to at last take a drink.
By the time the third circuit was begun my bottle was almost empty and so were my legs, heart rate began to climb out of control and effort began to slip away at the same rate. I soldiered on, the fast bits, I use the term advisedly, were done at much the same rate as the first circuits but the slow bits, the climbs and drags were sheer purgatory. Still I was on the last few miles and the end was in sight. The pundits who write the fitness journals reckon that you should be crossing the line with nothing left, well I certainly had nothing left, and hadn’t for the last ten miles either.
At the car park I made a number of attempts to get my right leg over the cross bar to dismount, eventually I switched legs before succeeding. A young lady sat nearby was rather amused at the sight, I know the feeling’ she said. As I was leaning over the bars out came Fred and Ken enquiring what I had done, with glazed eyes I peered at the computer and heart rate monitor, deducted about a minute or so and surprised myself to
13 see a time in the region of hour three minutes. Pain had taken over, I just wasn’t taking it in.
‘Well’ declared Fred ‘it could be you’ve beaten Bob Duckworth’, Bob is a Bury Clarion member. It took some time to take in that I may have beaten someone, after all a steady procession of riders were steaming past me, passed no one.
I sat at the back of my car contemplating whether or not to throw up or even if I could stand up, eventually I succeeded and moved into the hall to return my number and have a cup of tea. I sat down near the tea bar, drank a cup of tea then eventually tried to move, I managed at the second attempt to stand up.
A quick wash and change then back into the control with my start sheet and pen to record the times I thought worthwhile. Fred Smith had triumphed again as club fifty champion, a time of 2 hours 12 minutes and 8 seconds, together with a massive plus on his veteran age standing, about 35 minutes.
Ken Bath at 2 hours 14 minutes 23 seconds was another good time.
My time as it turned out was 2 hours 32 minutes 27 seconds, a personal best by some 11 minutes plus confirmation that I had indeed finished half a minute ahead of Bob Duckworth. Another small bonus being a plus on my veteran standing of 16 minutes, not very often I see a plus on my rides.
So there you have it, Fred Smith Gold, Ken Bath Silver, Anthony Bowles Bronze. Another club championship medal, two this year, silver in the ten, bronze in the fifty and all three distances entered and done. I think it is time the Sunday boy racers got their finger out and put numbers on their backs, if two old gits, me and Fred, would Ken be offended if I said three, can go out and ride so can they.
Epilogue
Saturday night, after the fifty, I lay on the bed, it was hot and humid. I could not sleep though my body ached to do so. My heart was still beating at the same rate as during the time trial, I was re living every pedal stroke. Sweat began to trickle down off my chest, arms and legs. I managed to move enough to reach over and turn on the fan at the bottom of the bed, a large fan I add, and the low humming had a relaxing effect. The fan also kept me from sweating and during the night rain began to fall reducing the temperature to a bearable degree. Earlier in the day I had been blasting out ‘Hot in the City Tonight’ by Billy Idol on my car stereo. I lay on top of the bed in the position of the classic Leonardo de Vinci drawing, arms and legs stretched out as if on a cross, St. Andrews type. Only the rough wrought iron nails in my hands and feet were missing. Eventually I drifted off for a couple of hours, only to dream about being in a cycle race.
I just couldn’t believe this fitness of mine, Hurtling along on the old J2/9, I passed the finish with nary a gasp, A one double 00 was now in my grasp, It just wasn’t possible, it just couldn’t be, Then the cat jumped upon me, she wanted her tea.
14
The B Ride 2nd July 06
On this wonderful summer’s morning, a larger group than normal, 7 riders set off for the “rolling” ride to Downham.
It was good to see Maurice again, he looked fit and well.
Following the usual route up through the Rossendale valley arriving at Rawtenstall too early to take a toilet break at Asda, thankfully the station was open.
Afterwards we rode out towards Burniey through Waterfoot Lumb, the climb up to the Todmorden Road in these temperatures was hot thirsty work.
Then it was the long fast descent down to JJ’s diner, for a mid moming break, by some strange coincidence, all 7 of us ordered toasted teacakes, well, here's a watchout for future reference, in Bumley a teacake is a barm cake, nonetheless it was very welcome.
After JJ's we took the canal bank through Burnley, this is in my opinion a good route, riding part of the way a rooftop height along the embankment, a fine piece of Victorian engineering. Strangely there are never many people using this path.
Then it was starting to climb up to the bypass, before riding into the lanes into the Forest of Bowland, dropping down for lunch at Barley, on this Sunday a very popular picnic spot full of families as well as groups of backpackers.
Then it was yet another rolling climb out of Barley and on to Downham, mandatory photos taken on the bridge, a short discussion about a recent BBC TV programme set in the village, which of course no one could remember the title of.
After that it was following the cycleway 91 into Whalley, where luckily we decided to stop for a drink, well it was very hot. The luck was, that the rains arrived with a vengence, we sheltered in the gatehouse from a tremendous storm, we all agreed that it was both spectacular as well as being very frightening. From here it was once again mobiles out, delaying our time of arrival.
Finally the rain stopped, not the thunder or lightening, but we set off, riding through Blackburn, to be challenged with a ride with tired legs up Bull Hill, where at the top everyone agreed that for a modest distance it had been a hard day's riding, managing this final leg back to Bolton without any more rain.
Good company, good countryside, good riding even with the thunder, all in all a great day out.
15
B Ride 9th July. Peter Meera
Locked to the railings with Jane.
There were 5 riders setting out for Lytham, we knew from the outset that 2 would be retuming after a stop at Preston Marina.
Setting out from Bolton, Maurice led the group out to Lostock using the cycleway running
between the railway and the river, this should have been a good traffic free route, however it has to be noted that the construction is incomplete.
After that we joined the road at the Beehive, riding directly into Preston, stopping off at Morrisons for coffee.
After coffee we wished each other a good day's riding Ray and Neil setting off for home
Maurice, Jane and yours truly set off to Lytham, it is worth noting that there has been a improvement to the roads since last year, from the top of Chain Caul Rd. you are now able to use a cycleway ail the way into Lytham.
The wind here was pretty fierce particularly as we tumed onto the coast road.
A light tunch in the Café du Paris, me and Jane locking our bikes together as well as to the railings, After lunch, Oh, Jane was unable to open the lock, both me and Maurice
failing, know I'll get some oil from Woolie’s, there was no magic 3 in 1 this Sunday,
Maurice set off to find a fire station and a friendly fireman with bolt cutters, for future reference, the fire station at Lytham is unmanned, don’t have a fire.
We'll get a hacksaw I said, so back to Woolie’s for a junior hacksaw, leaving Woolie’s Maurice tells me to get my money back, which I did.
Maurice had stopped at random a man, Do you know anyone with a pair of boltcutters” “I've got a pair in my boot”
As they say that was more than lucky, I'm asking Maurice to pick my lottery numbers. Then it was a fast ride back, until got a back wheel punture just before the Beehive. no big problem, just as was pumping up, Jane looks at her back wheel, which is completely flat, so another litte problem.
Anice day, riding through showers, but, one which was more eventful than usual.
16
B ride 16th July Roughlee
This fine Sunday morning 6 riders set off accompanied as far as Edgworth by Paul Hackin.
It really was an excellent morning for riding, our first stop was at Sainsbury's for a coffee, also providing an opportunity for those without "butties" to buy some.
Then once again using the canal path we rode out to Bardon Mill, taking the road up to the bypass, a hot thirsty climb, but I'm not complaining, I've done often enough in the cold and rain.
Then it was down to the Clarion Hut, for a longer than normal lunch break, the hut looks even better, the new toilet facilities are finished and very good.
Then turning right, it was up the hill to Newchurch, two riders did ride all the way up, leaving four of us to walk up.
Then along the ridge before dropping down to Whalley, once again we stopped off at the Abbey for a drink.
Then up along the main road into Blackburn, we were passed by a rider in a Bolton Clarion shirt, the old one, sadly none of us recognised him.
In Blackburn, David took us by a new route along the canal bank, bringing us out virtually at the bottom of the hill up to T ockholes.
Another hot climb, before dropping down into Belmont, where two of our team stopped off at the Black Dog for a well deserved drink.
Another good day out in once again unusually hot weather.
Peter Moore
Lakes. 30.7.06. Where where you?
A great day in prospect for the car assisted ride to the lakes, good weather forecast, a ride to suit everyone, yet the support for the ride was as usual very poor. I’m afraid that this ride is the last one I shall be advocating. The members appear to be cherry picking instead of supporting the club where it is most needed, on club rides. I too will be withdrawing from the club rides, my time is obviously over, sadly I have to say once more that the spirit of the club has died.
For those that supported the ride a great day out was enjoyed, or endured, according to your own point of view.
To really appreciate the Lakes and what is on offer it is often necessary to venture off road, short stretches may inconvenience the wearers of Look road shoes, but then again those that have been
before should know this type of ride is possible.
17
Leaving Lakeside along the west side of Windermere was a sheer delight, dappled sunlight through the trees and reflections off the lake as we made for the location of the ferry.
Just before the ferry is a lane that runs along the northern section of Windermere, here is the way we took to Ambleside. The road is quite good here and traffic free but it does turn into a forestry road and a bit of walking takes place.
We regain tarmac close to Wray Castle at the northern end of the lake and the view that opens up before us is just fantastic and before long make it to Ambleside for a tea break and whatever else was fancied. Eggs on toast for me.
Rodney and Bernard, the Little and Large of the club, decided to make tracks for Carnforth where Rod has his caravan parked while we headed for more Lakeland delights.
Along the river Rothay road to Rydal Mount the going is nice and easy but as we climb behind the historic building we return to rough stuff, sure it’s a bit rough but when you consider the narrow road below full of tourists cars it is definitely a better option. The trek along the bridal path offers a wonderful view of Rydal Water, one the Lake Districts gems.
Tarmac is gained once more and a fast descent to Grasmere takes place, passing Wordsworth’s
cottage as we go.
Just after mid-day and a hot sun high in the sky was all we needed as an excuse to stop for ice cream cornets, the bigger the better. A large selection of flavored ice cream was on offer in the village, I would have had a triple cone but they only had big single ones. Vanilla and banana was my choice, a double crammed on to a single cone with an even chance of falling off though the odds quickly tumbled in my favour as I
tucked into it.
Alan Collier was intrigued by some of the descriptions afforded to various cones on offer and decided that the ‘Thunder and Lightning’ would suit his taste, and so it proved.
Leaving Grasmere at a very leisurely pace we headed in the direction of Red Bank, a fearsome climb, especially after a quart of ice cream. At the top we had a rest before dropping into Elterwater, another delightful village famous for the ‘Brittania’ drinking place.
The other side of Elterwater is a nice bit of rough stuff, well some think so, that again reaches tarmac at a farm about a mile or so along. This takes us down to Little Langdale then through the quarries to Tilberthwaite Gill. From here the lanes drop toward Coniston where it is time for a nice pot of tea and a bite to eat.
With the sun still beating down, tea outside the café in Coniston is a pleasant and relaxing affair before setting out again to return to Lakeside.
Hawkshead Hill stands in the way of us, and Hawkshead, a long yet very rideable climb with the bonus of a sweeping downhill into the village. Not far now to Lakeside and right on schedule to reach there by 5pm. The lanes rise and fall through forest settings with one outstanding rise named ‘Devils Gallop’ a long steep climb that in the dead of night must be a very creepy place.
Lakeside is gained and after stowing the bikes I find another large ice cream very refreshing, mutterings of ‘greedy pig’ are heard in the background but I choose to ignore.
A trouble free trip back to Bolton down the motorway makes for a happy ending to the ‘Day in the Lakes’. Will this be the last one, I wonder.
Ryan Smith has won his first road race, and against good opposition too. The race was a third and fourth plus juniors category event. Well done Ryan. Ryan has also ridden a two day event since, really good form since the Irish Tour.
18
Seamons 25 time trial, water water everywhere
I was picked up at my door and my time trial bike stowed neatly on Alan Collier’s fancy new bike rack mounted on his shiny new car. Rain was in the air and as we set off for Cheshire, soon it was coming down heavily then as we reached the motorway heavy changed to deluge.
Warning signs of a spray hazard were accompanied by slow moving traffic and the obvious makings of a traffic jam. Fortunately the exit for Lymm arrived as we crossed the bridge over the ship canal and we left the motorway and headed for Knutsford. From this point we made good progress and as we neared the event headquarters at Goostrey the sky brightened and the rain eased to a drizzle. This event was to be Alan’s first open time trial for a number of years.
The headquarters was busy with riders picking up numbers and getting ready for the off at 2pm. The rain had obviously put a goodly number of entrants off riding as indicated by the number of ‘apologies’ entered on the signing on sheet. One name stood out, no apology against it but an absence from the car park of his car would appear to indicate a ‘did not start’. Why someone with a name like Bath should have an aversion to water is a mystery, Ken just hates the rain.
After seeming to abate, the rain began to fall again, increasing in intensity as the event start arrived. The big name on the start sheet, Stuart Dangerfield, would appear to be a non starter, a pity really as I would have love to have beaten him. Since he has applied for Australian citizenship one can only surmise that his love for sun, sea, surf and year round good weather has robbed him of his English doggedness in the face of adversity. Wimp.
Alan did not look too happy as he made for the start, I watched him from within the headquarters, I was starting much later so there was a chance that the rain might cease. Fat chance as it turned out. Donning a waterproof to the start seemed pointless so I set forth toward Jodrell Bank, within minutes I was as wet as it was possible to be, the one consolation being it was very mild, wet and warm.
At this point I will reveal that once again my race preparation was a little less than perfect. Despite meticulous packing of my hold all, shorts definitely packed this time, I was horrified to find that although I fastened my heart rate monitor to my tri-bars, I was missing the all important chest transmitter. I felt naked. How on earth would I know what I was doing without this piece of wonderful science.
I was left to my own feelings of intensity, hurt versus comfort. Pain won out as I committed myself to turning the pedals through great troughs of water and puddles at a pace I felt I could sustain for twenty five miles. Blotting out of my mind the twenty five bit, twice round the circuit was all I had to endure.
After one circuit, as wet as it is possible to be, the rain left me as soon as it landed as I was so drenched no more could be absorbed, just one more lap and we are finished.
I was able to take note of what speed I was doing at certain points and realized that I was doing a little better than my last effort on this course, not a lot, but enough to lift my spirits.
I went past the time keeper at the finish and felt like Noah must have felt as he landed on Mount Ararat, relieved the tempest was over. Now I could relax and pedal in a low gear back to headquarters, a mere four miles away while contemplating the ride. Oddly enough the most disconcerting part of the twenty five miles was saddle discomfort, having to move back and forth trying to find the right spot that never was never found. The rain was not that troublesome really.
I glanced at my computer but had to wipe the water from the surface to see what I had registered. Well it looked like I had beaten my previous time but by how much I could not be sure, the aches and pains now seemed a little more bearable.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Alan was awaiting the posting of his time on the result board, an hour had elapsed and still no time was registered. Alan ignored my comment that he had only done one circuit to get back out of the rain and once again went to scan the board.
19
Meanwhile Rachel had thoughtfully got me a piece of fruit cake before it all disappeared and it
went down very nicely with my cup of hot tea. Having changed into dry clothes I was now cosy and warm and very relaxed. My official time came through confirming what my computer had already indicated, I had indeed ridden faster than last time. Alan eventually found out his time and worked out that a good deal more training was in the offing if he was to regain his former time trial fitness. Considering how short the time he has spent seeking more fitness, (it’s only eight weeks since I gave him a run for his money), he has transformed himself. Now for some fast ten mile events on
Levens.
Southport, A B 20.8.06.
Since the heady days of our recent heat wave when we could get up see the sun shining and know the rest of the day would be the same things have changed. Looking at the forecast on teletext, the local one with weather maps for the day, a dry day was ahead. The only trouble was, looking out the window was a contradiction, rain was falling. A similar scenario to the day before, the day of my time trial drenching, perhaps drizzle doesn’t show on forecasting equipment.
Members for the B ride were thin on the ground, Maurice being the nominee for the group leader in the absence of anyone else. Both A and B rides were bound for Southport anyway so Maurice became an honorary A group member for the day.
Just out of Bolton town center we were donning waterproofs as the drizzle became rain, then heavier, then a downpour. Memories of the day before came flooding back.
Rufford was chosen as our first watering hole, there is a choice now of two cafes in close proximity so we decided on the newest, Pete Lane recommended this a while ago.
The café is good, not bad price wise but I fear we caught them on the hop, a large group of hungry cyclists was just not expected. Eventually we were all scoffing breakfast like we had not eaten for a week, cycling is good for the appetite.
As we were thinking about leaving the rain stopped though the sky was still laden with thick gray threatening cloud. Alan and Rachel headed back home, the rest of us made for Southport across a rather windy Burscough Moss, an unfriendly place in wind and rain with no hedgerows for shelter.
Nearing Southport the skies brightened and the ride became prospectively pleasant.
Morrisons supermarket was the next stop, as usual the cafeteria was doing brisk trade and we had to be patient in a long queue of ‘pensioners’. Tables and chairs are now outside and we can sit in comfort rather than fighting for a table indoors.
We leave Southport in the direction of Mere Brow and Sollom, a fantastic tail wind allowing an increase in pace for less effort, just how cycling should be. Croston is reached and then the long drag up to Wrightington Bar is tackled. The wind is still offering assistance to our moderate pace and the climb does not seem as tough as usual. There are shouts from the back that the climbing is not fast enough, oddly enough the complainant is under the doctor for a bad chest and can’t compete because of breathing problems. Now when have I heard that one before.
The ride now begins to split up as we reach the Bolton area, some take the A6 others break off at Horwich leaving four to take the easy route down Chorley New Road. It beggars belief that as we reached the Bolton boundary, out popped the sun. As committed cyclists we take this in our stride, and forever look to enjoying cycling whatever the weather.
20
Wunderbar!!! 9
Rather sketchy info has leaked down the grapevine, and not only info has been apparently
leaking, reports of some rather cold wet tourists are emerging.
Of course no doubt the definitive description will eventually come forth but as ever I prefer the underground versions passed on from the corner of the mouth through the letterbox.
I look forward to some of the snippets, the colourful descriptions, from those who wish to remain anonymous, like the one about the fully waterproof tent, bought from poundstretcher, being seen with a poncho thrown over the top. Now would that have been put there for insulation purposes or extra water-proofing.
Windmill Wanderer
I had the pleasure of doing a favour for Albert Winstanley in that he requested if I could produce a brochure type of document to mark the opening of Marton Windmill on
September the 9th. It seems that it is going to be a bit of a do with some clarion members riding there. It is
going to be quite an occasion attended by Blackpool notables including the daughter of the ‘Man who Loved Windmills’, Allen Clarke. Allen Clarke was a noted author, at the turn of the century he began to work for the Bolton Evening News where his talent developed as an evocative descriptive writer. Albert was an admirer of Clarke’s work and in time their mutual admiration of windmills came together in Albert’s article written in the fifties and published in ‘Cycling Weekly’. This article was also included in Albert’s book ‘The Golden Wheels of Albert Winstanley’.
Wet and Windy, the man and the weather
Having been talked into a series of three ten mile time trials by a fellow member, I looked forward to the first of the three, particularly as the course chosen is of excellent repute. Talk of a virus early in the week led me to believe that my cohort was having second thoughts, after all it is well known that viruses play a big part in competitive cyclists lives. e.g. ‘I started with a virus this week, I knew I shouldn’t have ridden’., or ‘I think I’m coming down with a virus’ this one usually comes on a Monday preceding a weekend event, they don’t particularly want to ride.
The big day arrived, and so did the monsoons, rain came down by the bucket load. All morning it rained and with it arrived a squall of hurricane proportions. Having gone into town to do a bit of shopping, stocking up with cheap energy drinks and such, I arrived home to see my answer phone blinking furiously. Four messages were indicated, ahaa, it looks like the virus is in panic mode.
21
I touched the phone lightly, in case it was still hot, it was only warm. Picking up the phone I dialled in the 147 number, which was of course a very familiar one. My prospective travelling companion’s spouse answered, ‘oh’ she exclaimed ‘he’s just gone up to Geoff Smith’s’. No doubt masquerading as a cyclist I thought. “He won’t be going, it’s too wet, surely they’Il call it off, won’t they?”
Minutes later the man himself rang ‘look at all the rain, I can’t ride in this, it will wash the yellow streak off my back, that’s the only thing keeping my virus at bay’.
Now depending on your point of view as to whether I am determined or pig headed, maybe both, I think entering a time trial is a little like entering a contract, once committed one must ride or at least turn up for the event when a more rational judgment can be made. In England the weather is so fickle and forecasts so iffy at times that a few mere miles can be the difference between dry and wet.
Granted the odds were in favour of the descendants of Noah, but never being one to shirk an event I set forth.
Accompanied by the latest edition of Cycling Plus, just in case I might be spending a little time in the car, I travelled the motorway in rather poor driving conditions being frequently warned along the way by flashing signs, ‘Floods’ ‘Beware heavy spray’. Being rather patient, except when phoning those companies that tell you to, ‘please hold, your call is important to us’, I made steady progress toward Kendal.
Despite the weather I arrived at the H.Q. area in good time, so good hardly anyone else was there, a nice parking spot was available, nice and flat for my rollers.
The gazebo for H.Q. was a little way up the lane and I stepped from the car with umbrella in the air, it was still raining but brighter skies were now above us even though the wind had not abated. I made my way toward the H.Q. but was stopped by a friendly acquaintance from track nights, ‘Sorry, the event is cancelled’ he informed me, ‘water lying on the road is the hazard, risk assessment can not be ignored’. As the promoter of our ‘ten’ I had immediate sympathy with the organiser, over 180 riders had entered, even allowing for the number who declined to make the trip over, an awful lot of people would be disappointed.
I sat in the car and read my magazine eyeing the test results on four fix wheel bikes, none of the bikes were what could be described as expensive, all promised a good deal of adventurous cycling and entry in to the land of the ‘fixers’.
After a nice rest from the rigours of motorway driving I found the rain had virtually ceased and turned my mind to the return journey comforted by the thought that at least I could award myself a ‘purple heart’ for courageous endeavour.
Others are entitled to a different opinion of course.
I made the trip to Levens To ride fast while filled with pain But alas when I finally got there AM I found was rain
22
3.9.06 Poor turnout for rides.
A poor attendance for both rides this Sunday morning, three for the A ride, two for the B. As the A ride was going in the direction of Cheshire there was a chance of picking up a couple more at Four Lane Ends but as it happened only Bernard was there.
The B ride were off to Bleasdale, once a firm favourite on clarion runs lists, the lanes round the fells of Lancashire offering great rides.
Gawsworth Hall was the destination of the A ride but I myself was only intending to ride as far as Pop 2000.
At least the weather for the southbound journey was dry and despite grey skies it was quite warm. A short stop as usual at Hollins Green then it was over Warburton Bridge in the direction of Knutsford. Broomedge was where I parted company with those bound for Gawsworth and noted that the wind was blowing quite strong against me, good, I would have nice assistance back home.
Enjoying a quiet coffee at Pop 2000 I was conscious that no other cyclists were present, a few years ago there would have been many by this time in the morning, but the place was busy with ‘pensioners’.
Another cyclist rolled up and as I was the only kindred spirit around he joined me in a cup of tea and conversation. A Wigan Wheeler he turned out to be and turned out to be as fast at talking as he was at riding. He kept me company part way home, the top of Holcroft Lane was the parting of the way for us and I was rather glad to be on my own again.
A sudden sharp shower caught me and I quickly donned my waterproof and carried on to Leigh whereupon the rain ceased as fast as it started.
Waiting to join the road to Atherton I saw three cyclists coming toward me and to my real surprise and delight it turned out to be Sally, accompanied by her fiancé and Dee. They were off to the Willowpool at Broomedge, Sally claiming to be looking for fitness, now when did I hear that one before.
After a reasonably short ride I tackled Firs Brow, and for a change rode to the top with no problems at all, how nice not to be grovelling.
I decided that all my rides should be like this, but when have I said that before.
What a difference a week makes
One week after the disappointment of the washed out time trial at Levens the summer returned and I found myself being taken back there by a resurgent Alan, eager now that the sun had come out again to resume time trial mode.
I noted on the way up that the strong breeze was blowing in a rather odd direction for this time of year. Instead of the prevailing westerly wind we would have a wind from the south east. The likely outcome would be a cross wind with a bit behind and a bit against us along the course, and so it turned out.
23
I found a nice warm up circuit, three times up the hill after the finish, accessed from the old A6 so as not to contravene the conditions on passing the timekeeper when not yet riding event. Crikey, I’m glad we don’t have to ride up this one on the ‘ten’.
Time to meet the Starter on the line.
Giving as much as I could along the course and ignoring the guy who shot passed me almost as soon as I got my breath from the fast downhill start, I settled into a rhythm. I managed to maintain that rhythm most of the way, losing it a bit about a mile from the finish, as did a lot of others according to post ride autopsies.
I was ecstatic to find numbers on my computer and heart rate monitor indicating a twenty five minute ride, not bad after only two ten mile events. The last one being the club champs ten when I clocked a twenty eight minute ride. Perhaps remembering to bring my shorts this time helped.
Alan came in not long after me, a rather dejected look on his face, something not quite right. It turned out he could not master his heartrate monitor/computer so he was riding in the dark. Well he did alright as it happens, he did a short twenty five minute ride, not bad for only his second time trial of the year.
Can we do the same again next week? I wonder.
Windmill Ride. 9*.9.06.
All went well for the windmill ride to Blackpool, around ten clarion members making the trip over, including Albert Winstanley. Albert went by car of course and thoroughly enjoyed the day, even climbing the winding steps of the windmill as sprightly as the younger guests. An entertaining afternoon was spent and if you have access to the web you will see the Mayor of Blackpool with members of Bolton Clarion along with a storyline by Clive Bryan, who by the way led the ride. Photo’s submitted by Paul Hackin.
Next Runs List
I’m looking at the next runs list with great anticipation, truly this is the start of the social season. The nine am start for one is much more civilised though one can hardly describe the club hill climb as such. Hostel weekend at Malham, we were there the day England beat Germany 5-1, now that was a great weekend.
Some nice easy rides are in the programme, unless someone decides they want to train all winter, beware, remember what happened to Frank Myers.
Christmas festivities, meet at Rivington Barn prior to the ‘Grand Downhill Contest’ and lunch at the Thatch and Thistle, we might even catch sight of Ian Littlewood.
Look also at the dates to note on the runs list, Committee Meetings October and December. For the old codgers there is the ‘Autumn Tints Dinner’, though I’m not yet an old codger I will be going.
24
10.9.06. Roughlee.
With the previous days ten in my legs tentatively set forth for the Roughlee ride wondering if my legs would take the climbing.
A fine day weather wise was in prospect so it was a little disappointing to find a mere half dozen turning up for the ride. There had been a ride the previous day to Blackpool for the ‘windmill ride’ so it was not too surprising they were missing. Martin was one to make both rides, on a single geared bike as well.
Bradshaw hill, the first test of the day saw Ian haring off up the road like a scalded cock, one by one the others increased their pace and soon a ragged line reached the top.
The climb up to Edenfield saw a similar scenario, a beaming Ian declaring he ‘had got his heart rate up to 180’. Great stuff, I thought, mine went up to that and I was the last man up.
Next test of Ian’s maximum heart rate came on the drag to the top of Burnley brow after ‘throwing it in the big ring’ and going for it. A similar but longer string followed the line to the top, a mean looking Dave Bisset intent on not being the last. This has been the quietest club ride I’ve been on for a while, no one had anyone to talk to.
The supermarket café at Burnley gave respite and talking resumed among the group as all day breakfasts were enjoyed.
The runaway tactics were resumed until we reached the lane running on top of the ridge leading to Roughlee, they did not know the way so I was allowed back on the front.
With the sun beating down we enjoyed pints of tea on the grass outside Clarion House while gazing at the fantastic scenery before us, Pendle country is a beautiful place to be on a day like today.
The climb up to Newchurch claims two victims who two footedly made it to the top breathing heavily. So the ride continued over Claife Heights with a superb view of ‘Nick O’Pendle’, I’d rather look at it from afar than ride it.
The drop down to Whalley was super stuff, and after a brief toilet stop we resumed our ride. Despite a plea not to make a sharp left we did and so the plod over York began.
On a day like today the panoramic view to the right is fantastic, if you can take your eyes off the tarmac. I managed a glimpse of Blackpool Tower before the sweat blurred my vision, the others only saw the back wheel of Ian Tipping.
Blackburn was the turn off point for Tockholes for four of us, Dave and the new guy carbon Pete, heading for Bull Hill.
At the top of the first hill Richard had a puncture and thought a quick pump up would suffice, it wasn’t. Eventually he had to make the repair and insisted we carry on as we so close to home. Before Belmont Martin disappeared rather suddenly, one minute he was there, next he was gone. We waited, Ian and myself, and after a while we set off for Scout road. By this time Ian had stopped trying to reach maximum heart rate and we rode together over to Bob’s Smithy. Once here I can free wheel all the way to my front door, a wonderful feeling after a short but hard ride. Once more I am asking myself, why am I on the A ride? though I must say I have enjoyed it.
25
Hot News From Levens.
A very bad backache problem had me wondering whether or not I would be able to ride the ten up at Levens today, being my usual stupid self I was committed, on the start sheet so I was going, anyway someone had to give Bradley Wiggins a bit of competition.
A good day was forecast though as we (A.Collier and myself) left Bolton it was very dark and cloudy. As we crossed the Ribble things changed and warm sunshine with blue sky began to dominate, it now began to look good. I noticed the trees were not being blown about much, another good sign for a good afternoon.
We arrived at the parking place for the ten a bit early, an understatement according to Alan who had been working Friday night, he wasn’t due to start until three and a half hours later and was desperate for a nap.
The time soon passed as we readied ourselves for the event, myself being careful not to move suddenly as my back repeatedly went into painful spasm.
On my bike, down on the tri bars it was not too bad but I was worried how long I could ride before I may be forced to stop. Warming up nice and steady my fears dissipated, felt sure I could handle it.
The afternoon was really hot with not a cloud in the sky and the merest hint of a breeze. Arriving at the start I am informed by Pete Lane that good times are already being posted, PB’s no less. Pete is off one minute before me and asks me if 1 may do a personal best as conditions are right, I am wary of giving a positive response, will my back hold up. We will have to wait and see.
My training indicates my threshold will be around 179-180 and I settle into the ride around that mark. I seem to be going a little better than last week but it is hard to tell by how much. One thing is certain, my breathing has definitely improved, heavy but not rasping as was the week before. The last mile and a half would be the critical part and I found myself going quite well, sure I was labouring a bit but not like last week, then it was all over as I passed the timekeeper with my pulse reading 191. My stopwatch didn’t stop at the first attempt so the reading was a bit out when I finally managed to halt the time. Pete Lane was waiting at the junction to find out what I had done but I was unsure of the exact time but it looked good. Pete himself had done a good ride, he also wasn’t sure of his computer reading but as he had finished 1 ahead of me a 23minute was on the cards, another PB for Pete.
I returned to the car and removed my sweat drenched top and vest, yes my mother said I should always keep my chest warm, I wasn’t wearing my Aldi Merino Wool vest though, towelled down and re-hydrated with banana flavoured milk and energy bars.
After putting the bike on the rack, boy did that hurt, I knew I should have brought painkillers instead of go faster drugs, I settled down to wait for Alan. Alan arrived back and consulted his HR monitor/computer, which by the way is still too clever for him, and deduced he had done a ride around 23/24 minutes, good stuff.
The news everyone was waiting for at the headquarters was the result of Bradley Wiggins attempt on the comp record. Gasps of amazement went up as Brad’s time went up, seventeen minutes, fifty eight seconds, he had done it and I was there, wonderful.
Now what would I have done without the back pain?
26
Glasson Dock 17.9.06.
A tale of two rides. Glasson dock is a nice ride, eighty or so miles and flat roads once
through Preston. On the town hall square it seems someone lost the plot, namely me. Murmurings of ‘Harris End Fell’ as the route fell upon my ears, I looked at my bike with a fixed cog on, no way was I attempting that one.
Riders set off toward Blackburn road, Belmont the obvious choice but no confirmation of the eventual direction to Glasson Dock. Four riders forged ahead up Belmont road at one heck of a pace and continued in the same fashion up through Belmont. It became clear that the ride was about to split up, Harris Enders, is that spelt right, and the flat earth society. When the question was put, yes there was two rides, four going one way the rest the other. Whatever happened to the good old fashioned club run?
The sane group, obviously so as it formed the larger party, took the road through the park by the Ribble, very picturesque in the morning sunlight.
On to the Fylde with it’s myriad of lanes leading one way then another heading for Cockerham and Glasson Dock. As we arrived at Glasson Pete said that when he suggested the lanes as opposed to the A6 he was mixed up thinking we were making for the café at Knott End. We had clocked up over fifty miles on arrival, fifty two on Clives computer, well it’s only numbers.
Our four ‘Harris Enders’, is that spelt right? were already sat in the café, big grins all round. Pete set about a huge fried breakfast like he hadn’t eaten for a week, the long wait must have seemed so but it was excellently presented and well cooked. Eventually all were served and well fed and after a bit of relaxing we started the homeward trek. The breakaway section decided to join the main group, immediately jumping on the back of the group deemed too slow in the morning, old habits die hard.
On reaching the A6 at Garstang the sixty eight year old decided to sit in the pack causing immediate panic in the ranks, Pete had also dropped back, the two on the front looked round but saw a lack of enthusiasm behind to come forward, they were stuck with it.
The fast pace of early morning was a thing of the past as the ride was now what it should have been from the start, nice and steady.
Higher Walton was next up for a cup of tea and a cake during which the route back was discussed. I took no part as I was A6 bound for a bit of peace and tranquillity back to Bolton. But for my aching back it might have been an excellent day.
Free Stuff.
Frank Myers has a Peugeot bike going free to any member wanting a hack bike. The size is around twenty three and a half/four inches. A good frame, steel is real. Ideal for runabout, shopper, window cleaning round?
Ring Frank on Bolton 391997.
Autumn Tints National Dinner
The Dickensian Restaurant Smithills Coaching House Smithills Dean Road Bolton
Saturday, 28" October, 2006 12 noon for 12.30 Tickets £10 available from Fleur Woolley 01204 61570
A couple of coast to coasters
Ray Clinch reports...
Whitehaven to Threlkeld. Decide to have brunch first before setting off, Neil’s brunch consists of black pudding(not the batter), chips, peas, chicken, fish and a cup of coffee. Suitably fed off we go heading for our destination today-Threlkeld-nice easy ride to Keswick, but then things go wrong. We end up on the ‘seriously fit’? route which isn’t good for the seriously ‘unfit’, but it’s good walking country especially in the pouring rain. Finally we find our way to Threlkeld thanks to Neil’s trusty compass.
Threlkeld to Allenheads
Start the day in foul weather, torrential rain and a bitterly cold wind, which lasts all day. On the climb up Allenheads a mist descends and you can’t see more than six feet. Nearly missed the café at the top (there’s a pun), a car with its headlights on happened to show up the café sign. Hazardous trip down ‘til we cleared the cloud bank, but even so it was still raining etc. Then my brakes started to make a nasty din steep hill and brakes hardly stopping me. Stop at Leadgate to find my brakes are down to metal, bad planning on my part. Luckily Neil has a spare set so at least I have front brakes. The ride to Allenheads was disheartening, climbing most of the way in driving wind and rain. Never was a hotel more welcome, surely the weather can’t get worse?
Allenheads to end of C2C
Wrong!! Monsoon season must be here, lashing rain and a bitterly cold wind. Stop under a bridge then Neil can put on an extra t-shirt. When you pack for a summer trip it’s short sleeve jerseys, shorts and a rain iacket. You don’t carrv long sleeve iersevs or a fleece.
28
We are both starting to shiver, maybe hypothermia is setting in. The climb out of Stanhope is very steep so we walk most of the way (just to stop a build up of lactic acid). At the top we mount our bikes and head for the down part of the ride, but getting there is a struggle. Lashing rain and a howling cross wind trying to push us into oncoming traffic. At the start of the down section is a café where food and drinks were taken on board. The ride down to the coast was not much better with the rain etc.
Photo’s taken at the end of the C”C then on to our digs at Seaton Sluice. Oh boy! What a ride in granny gear hardly moving with a strong head wind, even though we were only 2 or 3 miles from our digs we had to call in at a café for sustenance, so ended a forgetful day (amen).
Footnote: I’m sure this weather is due to those farmers we saw in a field doing a rain dance.
Seaton Sluice to Corbridge What a difference a day makes- warm and sunny. Apart from the minor inconvenience of a
puncture, the ride was most enjoyable. Stopped off at George Stephenson’s birthplace for a snack, then on to our digs at Corbridge. What excellent digs they were, the landlady even booked us a table at the local inn as it got busy. In the morning she gave us bananas and apples for the off.
Corbridge to Carlisle We started off with a 15 mile down hill T.T. down the A69 (not recommended) onto cycle route 72
into Haltwhistle where a café stop was taken then on to Carlisle. Neil’s day was made as he happened to find a new fleece top at the side of the road as only Neil can.
Carlisle to Cockermouth
Easy ride today, stayed mainly on cycle routes 71 and 10, first break at a nice café at Calbeck, then a hairy descent to Lake Bassenthwaite where Neil touched 40mph. Onto Cockermouth where a pleasant afternoon was spent sipping coffee and eating cakes outside in the sunshine. In the evening we had a few celebratory drinks as we were being met at Whitehaven at 12 o’clock the next day.
I would just like to say “Well done Neil” as he has not been cycling long. We are sorry that Ken could not make it. (ed.note. bet Ken wasn’t).
Ray Clinch.
29
Combined Clubs ‘25’
A= the disappointment of the early season event being called off I was looking forward to this closing 25. Although the event is taken seriously, by those entered, despite what is said before and after, many lighter moments are the outcome and make up the character of the club.
The course chosen was one not used for this event for many years, and I suspect with good reason. It is though one that is useful for the organisers, marshals are always a problem and this course needs less than others in our area. The course is subject to vagaries of the weather, wind across Cockerham sands being more than testing, especially when accompanied by rain. The rain however does have the compensation of hiding the tears of frustration.
When one looks at the results we are always reminded of the potential of some members who often show their talent on clubruns, much to the displeasure of those to whom the social aspect of club riding is sacrosanct.
The handicap is used, some might say fiddled, to bring out the latent talent in members who might otherwise lack the confidence to go forward and ‘get a number on their back’ without the need to be mollycoddled into doing it.
A narrow winner this time was Ian Tipping, we now know what he has been doing on the Sundays he can’t remember where he was. How’s that for the latest ‘I haven’t been out for weeks’.
Very close to Ian was Martin, a potential iron man if ever there was one, keen to get into competition but hasn’t yet got round to it. As I write I have no time to report for Richard, Mr. Brown as he likes to be called, as he was unfortunately late to the start. Having rode up to the event from Bolton, he had the ill luck of a puncture on the way, and was given a vacant slot in the field by the organiser. When asked what time he had recorded, Richard quickly responded with a terse ‘Crap’.
Early conditions on the course told their own story, strong winds bending trees though the rain was quickly blown over. Times reflected conditions, most notable was that of Craig the barber, unable to shave anything off his best efforts of the past. To be fair his training time has been taken up with looking after his son Ryan. Ryan has now reached a standard whereby he can now begin to look after his dad. Ryan’s time was one reflecting the weather and course conditions, he was last years handicap winner and handicapped this time to last years performance. Ryan was though our fastest member, a lhr.3mins.46secs. being very creditable on the day.
Ryan was among other former handicap winners not making enough progress to take the trophy again, Dave Bisset, a huge figure of a man, did battle with ‘the winds of Cockerham Sands’, sounds like a book title doesn’t it, and unequal though the struggle was, he rode better than even he expected.
Alan Collier, resurgent this year as a time triallist, finished one spoke less than a full set, so to speak. His home made aero front wheel began to wobble in the wind on the return leg, a broken spoke being the culprit. Somehow he managed to get the wheel to pass the brake blocks enough to continue back to the finish having kicked himself, and the wheel into shape. Lying in his garage were a brand new pair of Campag wheels, properly spoked!!
The big story of the day however was the season long battle for supremacy between Rodney Bryan, cockily floating on air since giving Bernard a beating in last years event. Bernard has been working on that one ever since and this year has seen him buying a turbo trainer, studying a book on turbo ‘intervals’, midweek training with the ‘unmentionables’, purchasing TWO NEW bikes, one of which was unveiled for the event, a Carbon Fibre Mean Machine. The name on the frame was the exact opposite of Bernard, a dot of a man, Giant! What did Bernard really get for his money you ask, well it gave him a thirty four second advantage over Rodney, enough to buy and stuff down Rodney’s throat Humble Pie for the rest of the year. His sleepless nights are at long last over.
30
After event Quotes. Rodney, ‘I can’t stay, I have to get back’, presumably with his tail well and truly between his legs.
Bernard, I got him’, short and very sweet.
Ian Tipping, ‘I like this course’, after coming out of hiding to do a personal best. Craig Smith, ‘I expected a kicking, and got one’
Martin Cooper, ‘I didn’t know the end was nigh, I could have gone faster’
Ken Bath, (the best of the lot) ‘I demand a drugs test, they don’t work’.
If anyone is daft enough to want an official result sheet please apply to the editor.
AUTUMN TINTS CYCLING COMRADES
BOLTON SECTION NOVEMBER DECEMBER JANUARY 2006/7 RUNS LIST DATE DESTINATION CAFE November 1°. HEBDEN BRIDGE Cabin Cafe November 8". WADDINGTON Country Cottage Cafe November 15". SOUTHPORT Morrison’s Cafe November 22nd. WYCOLLER Craft Centre November 29”. GREAT BUDWORTH Pop 2000 Lymm December 6". TOWNLEY HALL Park Cafe December 13". TARLSCLOUGH Brandreth Bam December 20". DUNHAM MASSEY Park Cafe December 27". PRESTON Morrison's Cafe January 3”. LYMM Willowpool January 10". RUFFORD Fettler's Wharf Marina January 17". TOWNLEY HALL Park Cafe January 24". WYCOLLER Craft Centre January HOLLINGWORTH Charlotte's Cafe LAKE
e Rides depart Bolton. e Bold type indicates meeting with one of Yorkshire sections. For further details contact Fleur Woolley 01204 61570 or Kevin Lawman 01204 695831
22.09.06
My name is ‘Tig’ and I know nothing about saddlebags, mudguards or tools, filleted lugs, or fish. I don’t listen to anyone and I’m fast. I like to weave about then no one can pass me. I only race ladies and anyone who has the ‘bonk’.
I’m looking for a good club!!
a
The character is entirely fictitious and any likeness to any cyclist, living or dead, is purely accidental.
This newsletter was financed with the help of a grant
from Bolton Sport Health and Inclusion as a step toward the development of sport, and leisure, particularly cycling, to the Bolton communities.
As a cycling club we are duty bound to support the
initiatives encouraging healthy lifestyles. Bolton Clarion will undertake to do so.