Peter suggested we might try a little trundle and as it involved steam trains how could I say no.
Fess up time: If I hadn't arranged to meet this morning I wouldn't have gone out! The weather was crap and looking worse for later in the day but in an effort to keep up the momentum of last week's ride and a vague hope that it would be ok, off I went. We met at Castleton on the rail bridge and set off for Heywood down Chadwick Lane. I've never ridden Shark Lane on the Northallerton Rides but my last experience of Chadwick
Quagmire Lane was ruts, puddles and mud deep enough to cover your wheel rims. What a pleasant surprise to find it has been resurfaced! Anyone would think the Tour de France was coming through some time soon . . .
At Heywood station we boarded the ELR's service to Bury. How marvellous to find a good old-fashioned guard's van. Even better to find a couple of chairs so we could sit with our bikes and they wouldn't be lonely
ELR's 40s weekend was in full swing with entertainment on the platforms, ladies & gentlemen in period costume and groups in various uniforms.
Bury Bolton Street is some way below street level and faced with lofting two bikes up three flights of stairs, two old crocks prevailed on the staff to let us cross the line and exit thru a side gate. ( Sounds like a cue for a song . . .)
The intention was to follow the route taken by Andrew on the Chocolate Cafe ride but we soon went off piste! A bit like Dirk Gently and using Peter's Zen navigation technique (or failing that a 1:50000 OS map) we found ourselves not necessarily going where we wanted to but ended up where we needed to be. A short road section from Greenmount, through Ramsbottom and into Stubbins found us on NCN6 and back on a disused rail line leading towards Irwell Vale where we met some Germans. Dressed in green uniforms and toting
Schmeissers, they later passed us in a
kubelwagen.
We ascended to Edenfield - Peter climbed, I pushed - and made the final descent to Rawtenstall station and its bar, selection of fine ales and finer pies. A couple of each and it was time to catch the train back to Heywood, a pleasant parting and a short hop home.
I could get to like this bike riding business . . .
