Sparrow fart o’clock, the alarm is not set until 4.30 but as per usual my body clock has woke me up 40 minutes early and the brain refuses to settle back down, so coffee and porridge before a quick inspection shows that although there’s a cold wind the test puddle outside is ice free so hopes are raised for a reasonable day and I retrieve the bike from the shed.
Leaving the estate it appears that someone has built a race track from cones complete with chicanes on the A57 and a few early risers are testing the limits of their abilities. Over Warburton bridge and up to High Legh tells me I’m going to get a decent shove going south, however the twinkling road surface raises my awareness and the descent to Great Budworth reveals that this is going to be interesting with the field run off slick across the lanes mitigating the tailwind.
Picking up the path next to River Weaver in Northwich I spare a thought for the very unhappy barge dweller who is chopping sticks on the tow path before continuing on to Winsford via the Vale Royal lanes, now I’m feeling the effects of the cold well in the valley and divert for coffee at that American burger chain where it appears that some sort of illicit group buy is being undertaken by the staff in the carp park. Caffeine does the trick and I deploy my leg warmers over the top my longs- I’ve got great dress sense.
Back on the roads through Church Minshull and Worleston and I’m passed slowly by a 4x4 pulling a horse box with a young girl in dressage gear in the passenger seat, I think it’s the fibre flare that’s unclipped it’s lower mount bouncing around that’s caught her attention and her forehead is glued to the window, a thumbs up gets a shy smile before I make the PG tips monkey that’s strapped to the bars wave at her and she goes nuts with delight, I hope her horsey stuff went well.
South of Nantwich I turn of the main road at Aston to find more frozen run off, I’m getting hungry but can’t lift a hand of the bars for fear of upsetting the balance, it’s an ice field heading up to Ightfield so I pull over in the plat area and ascend the climbing frame to stuff in some granola while watching the sun begin to flood the land with colour.
At Quina Brook I elect to use the track by the farms, the first flood is only a few inches deep with bits of ice in it, encouraged I start into the second which has got polar bears hunting seals on ice flows in it (lie), bad move, within metres I’ve got boots full of ice water and can now see the far side is a huge sheet of ice for 50 metres, dismounting in the flood I slip and crawl back to dry land dragging the bike along.
There's now a tick once per pedal revolution so I fix this by turning the ipod up. At Loppington my feet hurt, by the time I make Marton they’ve stopped, I know from a previous incident this is bad news but have not got a lot of hope finding succour in Baschurch on a Sunday until there’s a sign outside Moor Farm Shop – Now Open 7 days
- only trouble is it’s 9.35 and they don’t open until 10. I toy with idea of pushing on but decide this is stupid, by the time I’ve wrung my socks out and deployed plastic bags I’m hobbling around as the pain floods back. The remaining time is killed with a phone call before hot coffee and a bacon butty restore me, this has been a longer stop than I wanted but absolutely necessary.
On to Knockin for the obligatory photo:
DSC_0208 by
Si S, on Flickr
Making the climb up to Woolston and the legs feel good, in fact I’m in the big ring but turning to West Felton it’s like being hit with an ice cooled wind sledgehammer and suddenly I'm grovelling along in the lowest gears to Ellesmere where I take shelter in the woods at the Mere for more granola.
DSC_0209 by
Si S, on Flickr
At Shocklach I’m not paying attention and miss my turn, not wanting to back track I take to a no through road that looks like it goes to Stretton, it does but it’s not a road and I enjoy rediscovering my off roading skills on slick tyres. At Coddington I pull my usual trick of missing the turn by the pond which puts me in a foul mood and I curse everything under the sun, especially the wind, before the sight of Old Ma’s at Tattenhall restores some humour. Chocolate brownie and more coffee prepare me for the run home.
I had intended to use the Whitegate Way but a nosy over the bridge shows it's manic so I head up through the Vale Royal golf course, which is beautiful with snowdrops and leaves coming on the trees.
The run up the Weaver valley is much more pleasant in the light and not too busy, I will return to this at some point due to the presence of awesome bridgery but don’t have time today for photo’s. I just make it to High Legh before the garden centre closes to secure chocolates and fizz for my better half (since you ask - dark chocolate coated ginger, her favourites, and a bottle of something that has about the same alcohol content as Perrier, hey ho I’m tired).
I make it back home covering 214km in 12 hours which I was a bit disappointed about initially but considering the amount of off road stuff, the ice and the wind I was happy just to get back with all my bits intact, especially since my toes are still burning and tingling today.
