L is for Lymm, Luscious Lattes and LI-VER-POOL

With this report only being written after the regular weekly dissertation scribe has ended up under the influence of various alcoholic substances, two penalties and a goal which should never have been allowed to stand at Upton Park, it is with some dubious recollections that I bring you this review of the best HMCC ride of 2014 to date. But all in all it was a day for the ages, and a real shame that only five of the 35 or so riders at the shop today decided to take part. After a winter in which the same routes were largely repeated week in week out, this was just the right thing at the right time before next week's Trough epic.

CAN WE BRING OUR TT BIKES NEXT TIME PLEASE?

Simon and Stefan led the ride past Ormskirk Cricket Club, which serves as the host venue for the Ormskirk 10k, an event which likely clashes with our own hillclimb date for this coming year. Does this mean Ormskirk will be the sporting capital of the North West in much the same way Liverpool has been this weekend? We'll have to wait and see. In any case we had a steady opening few miles to enjoy on the way past the Dog and Gun, which gave me a chance to chat to Michael, who was on his first big ride of 2014 on his Kuota Kharma specced to pretty much the same level as my Tarmac SL4. Maybe not quite as good to look at as my Specialized, but what is? In any case we continued south and east into the headwind which I'd had to deal with ever since leaving Formby this morning, when I also got into a brief discussion with two members of the Rob Whitfield Racing Team, who were enjoying an easy recovery ride after a race yesterday. It would not be the last we would see of them today either. For now, we continued towards the Bickerstaffe TT course, after being held up briefly at some roadworks, before starting the southerly plunge through the first couple of miles which must be particularly inviting to our IMUK entrants for a quick tune-up prior to the big day in Bolton later this year.  One of them was out front with Mr SRAM Red 22, all the time wishing he'd brought his Orbea Ora in much the same way I wanted to be on the Slice at this point; what I didn't know was that we would soon turn right at the roundabout and head down the A570 cycle track towards St Helens. This stretch of road was pretty hairy, with the street furniture more conducive to runners than cyclists in a group, but we survived it in one piece and had time for a breather prior to the East Lancs Road where some did away with extra layers and I munched down a cereal bar bought at the BP on the A59 this morning (that'll teach me to prepare in advance and buy a box of Zipvit gets instead). In one respect that would prove to be a recurring theme on this long ride; some had steady pace but were able to ride all day without trouble, while some of us (no names please) were hot on pace but rubbish on endurance. Either that or doing a nine mile threshold-intensity run two days before isn't the best way to prepare - I'll let you work that one out for yourself. Once the aforementioned layers had been buried in various back pockets it was off and away once more, one the route I used to take to go to rugby matches, except that we went straight down Chapel Lane in the Eccleston district of St Helens just as my early morning victims came the other way. They didn't really recognise the Catlike helmet coming the other way but for our part, we had a one-mile drag to worry about. Simon was only too happy to forewarn us that we normally do this route in reverse but it didn't make the climb any easier, not when a strong headwind was in our faces. It brought us out at the Prescot end of St Helens before sending us straight on at the crossroads towards Whiston Hospital. Before that, though, we had Rainhill to contend with. On regular visits to Queens Cafe in Childwall the owner has recommended this village as well as Allerton as good places for me to buy a house, until I point out that I'd be too far away from both work AND my cycling club. You don't want Liverpool Century stealing the area's No.1 cyclist journalist do you? To be fair, Rainhill is a quiet, leafy area, with a cracking descent on the way out which we tackled just as some bloke on a mountain bike came the other way, before we reached Whiston Hospital, a brief sight of built-up suburbia, before heading into the unknown once more via Cronton and Farnworth. I thought Farnworth was one of those little villages you pass through on the Birchwood 10k route but as it turned out it was only really notable for the Everglades Park and various garden centres with seem to spring up every mile or so in North Cheshire. Me and Michael continued out front in huge gears all the way through to Penketh, where we turned off towards the local Bianchi dealer, D and M Cycles. Instead of looking at fine Italian steeds, though, we would turn right soon afterwards, as the ride into the great unknown kicked into a higher gear.

JUST AS WELL I DIDN'T PUT THE SUMMER WHEELS ON

Row after row of terraced houses does not really make for a scenic route but we wouldn't have to contend with them for long, as soon we would turn right once more into the southerly wind, but more importantly towards the countryside. This would include plenty of motorway crossings not unlike those seen in various Cheshire road races, but also the most fun part of the journey, down the Transpennine Trail. As I commented at the time, this was epic training for IMUK or the Wilmslow Triathlon which I'll be taking part in on 11 May, as we had to deal with plenty of rocky puddles. However, we would only get stopped by a rider coming the other way on a P****t X who has obviously never ridden Stefan's Cervelo before (and before you all jump on me for not buying an S2 105, I am very happy with my Tarmac SL4 - but not as happy as I would be if it had a pair of Red Wind 50's on). A call was made to have "a bit of banana" but that didn't last long as we were off and running very quickly, my 15-mile stint on the front mercifully over while I was thankful the Mavic wheels together with S-Works Turbo tyres didn't get pressed into service. But remember; headwind miles count the same as away goals, in other words DOUBLE. With a double-switcherooski on the front I got the chance to talk to Stefan about his choice of bike for IMUK, and the fact that Kevan is using an S-Works Venge for his 11-hour jaunt into the great unknown. I did offer to do a Hodgy alongside him when he "walks" the run but said I wasn't going any further than the Ashurst tri-suit in my wardrobe which didn't impress him one bit. Hodgy, your services may well be required, surely you can have a day off from your 100 miles on your turbo? For now, we were off into the heart of Cheshire, with our next major village being Hatton. I must have been struggling at this stage as my eyes thought it said "Halton" which we had long since cleared. Next up was Arley Hall, where they hadn't taken the directional signs down from last week's 10k, and where another one is taking place at the end of June - and an ideal summer road race if I don't decide to storm into Rhyl and blitz the corresponding road race plus the 2p arcade machines on the same day, that is. Athough Simon's wishes to bomb it through the gardens weren't granted, Arley Hall was the start of a lovely sequence of roads where we got a mixture of headwind and tailwind, and where we got to revisit High Legh where I got my PB a few weeks ago. Indeed, we passed the local garden centre which could have doubled as a cafe stop, but for the fact we were off to Lymm, the town of 100 cafes. This would prove quite an expensive experience, leaving some of us wondering if any ATM's were in the vicinity.

CAN WE HAVE A MENUS SECTION ON OUR WEBSITE PLEASE?

I didn't even realise we were in Lymm until Simon took us down a dead-end which actually was perfectly passable on bikes. This brought us out at the back of a tennis court together with some council flats which would still probably go for around £150,000 in this quaint Cheshire village, before rejoining the main road past the dam. I could have killed for something out of the Mr Whippy ice-cream van parked in the lay-by but Simon was adamant we were near to our destination. Indeed we were; although we overshot our turn-off for the village centre we were soon heading down the hill with a choice of cafes ripe for the picking. I did comment at this point that the descent would have to be climbed on the way out and how could we possibly drag a pizza up the ascent, but no-one was listening so instead we parked up at the Coffee House on the main "market street" through Lymm and set about picking our way through the menu.

Savoury foods were very popular today, even if Michael seemed only too happy to pick his way through a chocolate tiffin. The menu is pretty large and not particularly reader-friendly with little in the way of guidance but I was still able to pick an Italian panini plus an iced latte for under £8.50. That only left me with £1.50 to enjoy a shortbread; if only I'd prepared in advance I'd have also brought my card to purchase a slice of chocolate cake plus a Peroni in honour of Rick Taylor; at this rate me and him are fighting a running battle to see who can have the best cafe stop of the year. Conversation mainly centred on Flanders and bike fits, namely the fact that my Chinook is now too big given I'm so happy with my Tarmac. Someone else must have agreed as he went past the cafe on his own Specialized road racer painted very similar to the one owned by Ste Francis. He was enjoying himself no end, and like me he wasn't finding the stock stem too short either. He was also whizzing round at a very high cadence; has he been into Matt's shop for a pair of Fulcrum Zero's? With the clock now past the 12:40 mark and with me having paid at the counter just as a mum who looked like Alesha Dixon entered the place (!) we were only too eager to beast the tailwind all the way home, if only to get a good seat in the pub for the match.

STOP JUMPING THE LIGHTS, THAT'S CHEATING

We set off northwards towards Partington, home of the Trafford 10k, but rather than visit the fastest road running course in the country we played cat and mouse with a lone rider carrying a rack and panniers all the way through to Culcheth. He was elusive not least because he kept jumping the lights which infuriatingly kept switching to red just as we got there; I dare say setting off in 52x12 isn't the best way to catch him either. As it was, he turned off at Glazebrook to join the Hollins Green 5k route while we headed north towards the A580. On our way we passed two riders out for a leisurely Sunday cruise as our pace went past 25mph at times, barely relenting even for the motorway crossings, before we turned left at Irlam en route to Culcheth and Lane Head, two little villages with plenty of shops and pubs. By this time the clock was past the 1pm mark and some of us were wondering if we would make it home for the first of six must-win Liverpool games. So it was a relief when we saw the A580, and the signs for Golborne. We'd already had to deal with two pheasants crossing our path just as the Big S and Stefan bore down on them, and now we were battling with a few impatient motorists. The worst were two Volkswagen Golf drivers who squeezed through tiny gaps just as traffic was coming the other way (you knew a name and shame was coming up at some point, right?) but the second one was particularly scary. After getting rid of these miscreants and circling a couple of industrial parks we found ourselves in Ashton-in-Makerfield, home of the Three Sisters go-karting experience where I used to win many years ago - when I was underweight and much shorter, of course. I mean, surely you read the story about normal-sized human beings having to do without drinks bottles at the Bahrain Grand Prix this weekend to get their cars down near the weight limit? There's many reasons why I couldn't have been an F1 driver but who would have thought I'd be too big? Me neither. Rather than race each other round the racetrack, though, we headed west for Billinge, and a sequence of long drags where Michael excelled; let's just say he's ready to go with the A group every week. He certainly looked more comfortable than yours truly, who was now approaching the 70 mile mark with another 18 still to go and wondering if this pace would even be sustainable all the way home. Soon we were going straight down the long, open expanse of road through to Orrell, and from her it was back to more familiar environs as we embarked on the final challenge of the day, the climb up Crow Lane.

NOW YOU DON'T SEE ME, NOW YOU DO

Wilko and Stefan set off in pursuit of glory as the first few pedal strokes were pushed out up Crow Lane but more alarmingly I wasn't even able to pull away from Michael and Simon, the latter having already said "see you at the top I'll just go at my own pace". On occasion I spotted Stefan up the road, but to all intents and purposes he and Wilko were long gone and only a late surge with my tiring legs got me over the top in third place around ten seconds clear of Michael. Not what you expect from someone who was able to keep so calm on Shaley Brow last October - that'll teach me not to do beast runs on the days leading up to an all-day epic ride. After a brief wait we plunged down the descent before turning off the Beacon at the church. Here, Michael headed straight home for Burscough while the remaining four, now led by Stefan and yours truly, made their way through the back of Skelmersdale, past a plot of land which will soon be occupied by yet more houses while further down the road, a huge queue of near-open car boots were hanging loose with goodies for the local Sunday Sale. Sadly for the others in our group, my Van Nicholas wasn't there - not yet at least - and we continued towards the Plough, where I was only able to keep up the will to live by discussing the Liverpool Half Marathon with Stefan, and how he enjoyed a cracking tussle with Kevan Evans for a bit of local rivalry. I can't wait to see these two duke it out on the IMUK course! Stefan turned right shortly afterwards leaving me to join Wilko and Simon on a back-end loop to Ormskirk, but they were going a different way to me and I left them to their own devices upon returning to what turned out to be Ruff Lane - and the return of Stefan. That's right, he'd gone an alternative way to us and rejoined me as we rounded the back of Edge Hill, the venue for our sportive in a few week's time. Eventually he turned left for home leaving me to contemplate the wind and a sharp rain shower at the top of Ormskirk Hill. I caped up and set about time-trialling down Formby Lane as fast as possible, not that I was capable of much more than 20mph by this point. By the time I reached Farmer Ted's the rain had stopped so I stashed the jacket away, which gained me a little speed, and from here it was a race against time to get home as quick as possible. This is duly did just before 3pm having covered 88 miles in breezy conditions. And after a quick bath and a shovelling-down of some Bakewell slices, it was off to the pub to enjoy the best pints of Stella I've ever had, together with another mad game featuring Liverpool and West Ham, this one featuring two penalties and a cheat goal by Andy Carroll. But this was in keeping with the madness of the day. All in all, a fantastic day out on a fantastic route; many thanks to Simon for his meticulous planning in that respect, I can't wait to see what he comes up with when the Wirral ferry comes back into vogue a la Liverpool Century come the summer, it's been a while since we did one of those rides. Anyone up for a 100 miler into North Wales sometime?

Now for the results, brought to you by the Coffee House, Lymm:

Distance: 141.2km/88.25miles

Time: 4:48:06

Average Speed: 29.41kmh/18.38mph

Hors Cat Climbs: 2 if you include the one out of Lymm

Off-Road Sections: 1 on the Transpennine Trail

Pheasants: 2

Impatient Drivers: 2 in Volkswagen Golfs

Money Spent Today: A recession-ending £11.70 on food plus £11 for four pints of beer

REJECT OF THE RIDE: Golborne Volkswagen Golf Owners Club

(At this rate we'll all have to copy Stefan and fit front/rear lights to our helmets)

Seven days to go until the daddy of HMCC rides, the Trough. Who's bringing their credit card to bail the Big Bad Chinook out?