January 5th, 2005
That is the Irish Sea
Xmas was two weeks of lazing around. Xmas Eve I’d done a 30 mile errand to pick up some shoes left on a shop counter by my wife. It had rained, hard. It was hardly the best way, as it turned out, to end 2004.
By New Year I needed to get out and ride.
On New Years Day I determined to set out on my Spring test ride. A 50+ miler round the Trough of Bowland - into the Heart of the UK. With hills.
What bike to use? Singlespeed or gears? My wife instructed me to use the singlespeed. A brisk south easter was blowing up but on this route the choice of bike dictated the direction, not the weather. That at least sorted the direction. Anti-clockwise would mean the climb out of the Trough would be unrideable. Clockwise and I would only have the 1 in 5 Calves Mouth to walk up. And the south easter could be put to my advantage on the home leg.
I kitted up and set off.
The south-easter was swinging round to the south now. I got a tailwind for my first twelve miles. On the flat. When I briefly turned South for the climb near Catshaw Fell I was full into it. Getting home would not be fun, especially if the wind continued to turn.
Dropping down into Marshaw I was desperate for a slash. It is several years since I tried the roadie trick of doing it on the bike. With a decent crosswind and a distinct lack of traffic this seemed as good a time as any. It was bliss. I waited until a suitable downhill. I could see the road ahead for advance warning of traffic. I could sit sidesaddle and avoid any blowback. And I let fly.
It was quite liberating not to have to stop and faff around with tights but just to let go whilst riding. Not the sort of thing to practice when out with friends - verbal knob comparisons of the “I’m more singlespeedy than you” variety are always more socially acceptable.
Despite a feeling of relief from my bladder the weather was getting steadily worse. Riding up to the Trough it started to spit, then rain, then properly rain. Driven by the wind rain that wanted to strip the skin from my face. I stopped - once I’d made myself crawl to the top on a now stupid 75 inch gear.
Suited and booted against the weather I was on schedule for a good time. The descent should have warned me how bad things were going to get worse. Normally this is a sphincter puckering descent Good for 50mph if you’re brave enough to brake late and hard into the corners. I’ve overcooked it before now on both narrow road tyres and fat MTB slicks.
Today I practically had to pedal down. Certainly no brakes were needed.
An hour later and I couldn’t believe the rain and wind. By the time I got to within 5 miles of home the wind was a westerly, straight off the Irish Sea and into my face. And it was carrying half the Irish Sea with it! The roads were running water, more than an inch deep in places. Trees were losing branches.
I got home a drowned rat. But I had done a good time. Whatever the weather I was just glad to be out on my bike.
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