January 2010 Week-End Away to Bridges, Shropshire

Stage 1. Warrington – Bridges (75 ish miles)

With the arctic weather forcing the postponement of the initial foray of the year, the re-arranged week-end date still brought out sixteen eager riders for the early start.The 16 riders (in no particular order) were Gordon, Dave ‘Sicknote’ “I shouldn’t be here” Edmonds, Sir Glenn ‘Time Trialling Legend’ of Longland, Trevor, Gary, Dave W, Ian, Bob, Nick,Sandy, Simon, Malcolm ‘Haystacks’ Horner, Steve (me), Mike, Stuart and Darrell.
All were expertly shepherded by Directeur Sportif Darren ‘White Van Man’ Topping and his amazing yellow flashing lights. Everyone was on the road by 9.00 am, even me and Trevor were on time!

Still smiling at kilometer zero

Still neutralised going through the chain-gang ‘start point’ the going was pretty civilised. Young pretender Sandy soon ended up on the front
and displayed his ability to quickly absorb new skills by half-wheeling with the best/worst halfwheeling experts that WRC have to offer.
Heading out along the A49 then through Beeston and Malpas everyone seemed to be either keeping their powder dry or worried that
they were as unfit as they feared. Apart from the odd rear wheel lock-up by Dave W, things were pretty uneventful all morning. Lunch didn’t even bring out a sprint for the café. A few ‘Full Englishs’ at the Prees lunch-stop and about 60 minutes later the ride along the A49 to Wem saw Darrell on the front obviously looking/hoping for a photo opportunity of him mixing it up.

Heading for Wem

With no photo forthcoming, a retreat to the safety of the middle of the bunch was in order. A mini-slow-motion city centre ‘crit’ through Shrewsbury then led to the “gently undulating and (according to Darrell) gradually uphill” road which was to lead us straight to the Youth Hostel.

“Cycling Legend” leads wheel-suckers (left) Teenage hoodlam takes advantage of elder statesman (right)

A rider briefing took place to communicate team orders with a plan to re-group after the next four mile uphill drag. The first hostilities
saw Gordon taking the front and turning the screw as the roads got a little grippy. Glenn, Steve, Gordon (hiding behind me on the photo, almost in my pocket) and Simon clipped off the front but with no-one strong enough to really force a further selection the foursome kept together until the re-group before the final climb. A small gap had been opened to the chasing pair of Trev and Sandy, who may be separated by nearly 50 years on their birth certificates but there was little less than the thickness of one of Trevors £50 notes between them on the road. Behind them came all the rest of the group, with no-one wanting to be the first to climb in the van. With the re-group sorted it was only 3 miles to the ‘digs’, 1 mile uphill and 2 miles down, how hard could it be ?

Five minutes later the rear wheel skidding, hyper-ventilating rasping, sweat inducing climb started to catch a few unawares. At least the skies were blue and the wind was almost non-existent. With Steve and Gordon off the front and approaching the top they were caught simultaneously by a white van doing 18 mph up a 1 in 5 with its window wound down, and also very surprisingly, a gravitationally challenged non-climbing cyclist
with a firm grip. The turnaround in Darrell’s climbing form was unbelievable but it was worth it to see the confusion on Gordon’s face as he hadn’t seen the van or realised the connection between the two. Towards the top of the climb Darrell was being caught after his impressive (and definitely non-motor powered) blast-past, but an unfortunately timed mechanical meant he had to grab hold of the van again, luckily at the precise moment he reached the summit his bike mysteriously self healed itself and he took off aided by a significant stock of potential energy and a 100 metre lead.

Random photo of cyclist holding onto car, absolutely nothing to do with anything that went on during the course of the climb

Two other people who raised their arms early only to get embarrassingly pipped on the line.

Fuelled by the injustice of this Gordon and SH set off in hot pursuit, the sign was in sight and the over confident Webster was already taking
time to zip his shirt up, comb his hair and had his arms in the air while he was going through what was obviously a well practised routine of
assorted victory salutes. Unbeknown to him the two chasers had hunted him down and the warning honking of the van’s horn came too
late as he was relegated into third place with only yards to the finish. With everyone safely at the Youth Hostel by 3.15pm there was time for a cold/warm/hot shower (depending on when you got in) and then a couple of hours of R+R before tea.

Trevor doing the dishes

After tea, several of the less domesticated were introduced to the pleasures of doing the dishes. One un-named person was heard saying “one of the staff normally does this for one”. A mini bus ride to the local public house and back for 10.00pm, bed by 10.30pm for most. Meanwhile Darrell had rushed back home to top up on his 'preparation’ for Sunday’s ride.

Stage 2. Bridges – Warrington (65-70 miles depending on when you got out the van)

Not the Sag wagon !

Sunday morning delivered clear blue skies and a bit of ice which, after the previous week-end club run’s mass tumble, was not greeted with universal cheer. The van was put to good use ferrying groups of riders down the hill to clearer roads where the Sunday Run finally got going with a firm ride into and out of Shrewsbury and then retraced Saturday’s route back to Wem. Sandy’s newly found half-wheeling habit was tested with a rapid stint on the front with Simon. Honours were even for a while but then the youthful exuberance faded a tad, but only after spending a good 15 minutes at well over 20 mph. The weather then took a turn for the worse meaning a bit of a line out to Broxton and then onto the Ice Cream Farm at Tattenhall. A less than relaxing half hour sat in the kids play area gave Darrell an invaluable insight into future pleasures. After just enough time for the wet clothes to cool down but not enough time for them to dry out, it was back into the rain for a ride on more familiar roads back along the A49 at a steady pace. The previous high spirits being washed away by the persistent rain which was now falling. It was pretty much “let’s get home the quickest route possible” which led us right to the big sign where chain-gang ends. Surely no-one would be sad enough to start a sprint at the end of a week end away in January, would they ? It looked like it would stay calm but then the pace was perceptively creeping upwards until
the sprint exploded (very slowly) from the group with more than a few riders trying to claim the Slow motion sprint ultimate “Winter W**ker trophy”. Let’s not go into detail naming all the riders. Luckily the capes make it difficult to identify them all.

slow motion sprint