The plan, hatched this morning under a deceptively cheerful September sun, in Leek Market Square, was a masterpiece of simplicity: a gentle, civilised cycle from Leek into the famously flat and promised land of Cheshire. I envisioned a leisurely pootle, legs spinning effortlessly, perhaps a jaunty wave to a passing cow, a “hi” to walker or just a general bit of relaxed sightseeing; the word “flat” was used, repeatedly.
And acting as today’s single representative of “Team B”, I felt this promise was well within my grasp to represent amongst the high rollers in “Team A”, in addition, the lure of “mushy peas” (avocado at The Old Barn in Marton) combined with the promised relaxed route was simply too much to not jump at.
I now believe the word “flat” and the promise therein was part of a cruel and elaborate hoax to trap us “Team B’ers”.
The moment my tyre left the comforting confines of the Market Square, down the bank through the town and heading towards Rudyard, the road reared up like a startled horse and the pace was frantic. My bike, which I had lovingly prepared for a gentle and relaxed jaunt, immediately began to make pained noises which I had never heard before (I have since found those noises were actually my knees and beating heart). This wasn’t so much a ride but an assault on gravity.
On exiting Rudyard and ascending into Lask Edge, I knew the moment I saw a road sign, “Mow Lane”, that the promise of flat was but a terribly cruel and distant dream. We got to the top of Mow Cop and stopped for a look, I stopped for breath. I felt a little queasy, but rest was not on the cards, so down (thank god) the Killer Mile we went and entered into Congleton, taking in a lovely (flat!) route around the bypasses in that area, doubling back on ourselves to scoot through past Swettenham and en route to Marton’s café.
A tricky little back lane, coated with the product of many a tractor caused an oncoming collision of two other cyclists. A fairly badly cut knee was the result but some swift LCC medical attention and guidance got the injured parties on their way. Their cycles looked intact which is a positive!
By the time we finally got to The Old Barn, deep in (flat) Cheshire, after about 25 miles of solid uphill, it was well beyond time for some food. We all sat and ate, I reflected on how I had felt like one of those guys being dragged behind a horse on an old western film, trying to keep up with the pack on the route in to the café. The food and rest was good but it didn’t last forever and before I knew it, I was back in the saddle, holding on for dear life
We took a more direct route back home which brought us directly back to the Bosley main LCC layby and from there we headed home. By that time, my ability and desire to hold onto the pack was all but gone. On the exit out of Rushton Spencer, I took the steep way over the top and the pack was well in front and long gone. Past Rudyard I went and back up the main drag into Leek.
On approaching Sainsbury’s, I noticed the pack was still waiting for me and considering there was a very reliable threat of rain, I have to say, waiting by the group for such a time was admirable.
The moral of this story is twofold: if anyone describes a bike ride starting in Leek as “flat,” they must either a professional cartographer with a wicked sense of humour, or they think the side of a house is a gentle incline AND if you are a B rider, stay firmly in your B lane
I’m off to have a pint, put my legs in traction and then have a cry in a dark corner.
In truth, great ride, thanks all!
