"Not the Wild Wales" - Bank Holiday Beasting Part 2

A number of last-minute Bala dropouts together with the promises of a clear Bank Holiday Sunday meant that over 50 people arrived at the shop today for the 9am start. Four groups formed, with The General back to take the C group, John Hesketh doing a long one out towards Chipping and two shorter rides on offer, including Matt's shorter B ride round Shevington and Steve Depport's A group coast road burn-up. I thought Matt was taking the A's when I was in the shop the other day and indeed he might well have scooped up a few B+ riders who really should have been apprehended on the matter (at least that was Kevan's take on it) but in the event only eleven riders were in Steve's group as they headed out of town on the only quiet route, the trip south towards the cricket club. Did I mention there was a motorfest in town today?

LET’S GO HOUSE HUNTING - IT’LL BE BETTER THAN THINKING ABOUT THOSE KNACKERED QUADS

I slotted into Row 3 alongside Clay, who I’d not been on a ride with all year, as we headed down the hill past the cricket club. We had a bit of left-lane debris-dodging to deal with, namely in the form of a smashed beer bottle and a dead hedgehog which could have set the HMCC Puncture Record in one go, but luckily we all avoided the poor thing and set off down the first few lanes of the Ormskirk 10k route. After Catharine’s Lane we turned eastwards towards Bickerstaffe, prompting Clay to wonder whether this was a long way round to the coast or was Kevan storm-chasing. You could make a case for doing both in the name of hard training unless you wanted water in your soon-to-be-sold Roval 60mm wheels, but no rainwater was forthcoming and so we continued across the M58 to get a brief look at what a fast 10 mile TT course really looks like. However, we turned right past the football club and were now firmly on a south-easterly trajectory towards the Simonswood end of Kirkby. It was only when we saw the sign for Shevingtons Lane that I realised we were in the true home of Sky TV, where everyone will have an armchair view (as opposed to my drunk-to-the-eyeballs view) tomorrow night for Balotelli’s great Manchester homecoming - or something like that anyway. As I pointed out to Colin, you have to stay relevant or no-one will want to play for you. According to him the same should have gone for Kate Bush had she not retired so early at the age of 22; if only some of today’s numpties would do the same thing……….Once out of Kirkby, we turned northwards through the old part of Melling, where a couple of cottages on the road near the Pear Tree pub are up for sale at the £120k mark. Not too far away from HMCC catchment range is it? This had a nice effect of keeping my mind off how slow my legs felt today as the lumpy “10” course in Chelford was a real leg-burner not least with a gearbox that wouldn’t sit on the ideal 52x13 ratio, so I was only too happy that Kevan was on the front while thinking the same as me (why make it easy when you can make it hard; Liverpool’s equivalent is why finish second when you can come first). Indeed it was the man in first place who openly wondered at the Westway traffic lights as to where had some top-end B groupers got to, and said “GRRRRRRRRRR I’ll have to see to that” - yes Kevan, I know the feeling. Almost as memorable as the feeling of setting course PB’s left right and centre, but you knew that already. From here we aimed squarely at the Punch Bowl, and the run up the by-pass to Formby.

TOUR DES VERY EXPENSIVE HOUSES

As we reached Lady Green Nurseries, where my mum worked for many years prior to retiring, we reached speeds of 24mph and I was hoping that the Sunday staff would hang feed bags out for a flying pitstop, so it was with some reluctance that I fished in the squirrel snatcher for an Eat Natural bar This settled in the stomach nicely and made for a proper good energy boost on the by-pass, which I’ve only ever tackled on my TT bike. In road formation we kept it tight and not too fast lest we spook any Sunday drivers. We then turned past LA Fitness where the Sunday classes were in full swing; if only they all owned bikes they could have jumped on the back of us at this point. In fact I was only 800 metres from home and could have parked it at this point but Sundays are for beasting, Withington Wheelers “10” or not, so we continued quickly up north past the Grapes and then across the roundabout to Formby Hall, where apparently Stevie G might be moving, thus leaving Super Mario to move into his current residence. According to Darren, Joe Cole’s old house is still on the market round this neck of the woods too; a handy bit of info for Dejan Lovren if he’s planning on outstaying Balotelli perhaps? We reached Woodvale where a short stop at the lights gave us our breath back, but soon we were on the coast road and thinking only one thing; Faster (repeat repeat repeat, no eat-sleep-rave required until this evening).

THE NEW GENERATION HAS OFFICIALLY ARRIVED - NOT ME AS I’M ACTUALLY 29 YEARS OLD

If you saw the first week of Richard Osman’s Two Tribes you might remember there was one Yes/No question of “I think I look younger than I am”. From experience I know that this can be a double edged sword when joining a new club; some people look at you as if you’re a clueless youngster who doesn’t know anything. Well, wrong on both counts. For as we passed The Sands, the pace went up and Sam Wood, who has been making quite a name for himself together with Sean Griffin and Adam Harper at the Litherland Circuit races. These three have officially taken over from the likes of yours truly as the baby-faced assassins division of HMCC and what a blowout Sam achieved today, as he effortlessly upped the pace past 28mph forcing the likes of me to resort to lines like “BEAST SESSION” and “THIS IS WHAT MAKES YOU A BETTER PERSON”. I was the last one to pull alongside Sam as we reached the Weld roundabout and now realised I had the evil work to do along the seafront. So I pushed the pace back to 28mph until Pleasureland, where Kevan switched his camera on just as I decided to cheat by tailgating a row of cars out on a late summer saunter at the seaside. I did get a bit frustrated when we had to slow to under 20mph at a car-park turn-in and shouted “MOVE!” but soon after, Sam was alongside me and we agreed to keep the pace around 25mph. This would be more in my comfort zone as my TT and triathlon background has me churning out the same power for mile after mile rather than dog fighting for a finish line; maybe Coach Col’s idea for a HMCC Road Race on this fabled speedway would be a great idea not just for the aforementioned “new generation” but for all of us, as Sam put the speed up to 27mph and I responded as best I could, but the whole pack swallowed us up and from here on it was simply a case of through and off for those of us unable to punch our opponents lights out with a 30mph+ shot. This left the group rather scattered upon reaching Crossens and Clay turned for home, leaving just ten remaining riders. After a piss stop and a shovelling down of more food we set off through Banks at a rather more relaxed 22mph before heaing down Shore Road in full view of a farm vehicle who churned its way past us. Remarkably, no-one was up for tailgating; then again I’m sure Kevan would say that’s making things too easy. So we went the full length of the road with no traffic assistance before the right-turn into Tarleton.

ZIPP IT UP, YOU IS EPICALLY FAILED

The first person to fall foul of the headline for Chapter 4 was some woman pulling out of the Booths supermarket car park. She really seemed desperate to get on the road ahead of us. It was marginal, but just about acceptable if she got going. But what she then did was stop to turn right just as we caught her 100 metres later. If that is not an epic fail of one’s ability to use common sense, then I would like to know what is. This scattered the pack in various directions pretty much in the same way that a Ford Focus driver tried to wipe out a group of us pootling back to Race HQ yesterday in Cheshire, but our next assignment was the Hors Cat Cobbles of Bretherton, which were tough enough without having to cut in quickly at the left turn through the woods thanks to a parked van. Soon we were out in the open again, passing the B group coming the other way as we did so. This led to some choice comments as to the identity of some going slower than they’re capable of, but one thing was going down very slowly indeed; it was Ian’s Vittoria Open Corsa CX 23mm tyre. Oh dear. It was going down so slowly that it took a fair few seconds to remove the remaining air, and from here there was a real struggle to find a cartridge that would click onto the inner tube valve to blow it up. All of them were very much in the “epic fail” category. So while Darren chatted to Mr Venge about an offer for his Roval wheels and Kevan mentioned the ZIPP Firestrikes he needs to win IMUK next year, one thing that didn’t fail at all was THE ARM. That’s right, me and the best pump on show, the Specialized Airtool, were to the rescue. This led to some choice comments about how well my mum still feeds me (she’s the best cook in the world, though I am looking forward to Lorraine Pascale‘s new cookery series) and I countered with the fact that the MMA class at LA Fitness probably has some true brutes in it who would take me to the cleaners. Or is it Legs Bums and Tums on a Sunday? Either way, the tube was inflated very quickly indeed and nicely up to race pressure just in time for the pink Lezyne patch/tyre lever combo to be put away. Well, it’s always nice to find such things easily in saddle bags. We set off once more past the train station then turned right for the shortest route to Rufford, with several eager to get a wholesome café stop. But not who you think……….

F*** THE FUEL USAGE RULES, I’M STARTING ON MY LUNCH

Upon hitting the A59 the group upped the pace gradually, with not much of a sprint really to begin with. That was until Kevan attacked off the front of the right lane and took Cameron and Darren with him. They tried, but they couldn’t do anything about him and once again the S-Works came up trumps by quite some distance. Somehow I am doubting Kevan more and more every week when he says he’s too big to do puke session running sprints, especially after my own struggles on the Rainford Runners Wednesday night hill circuit………

Some went to St Mary’s at this point but Darren and Ian had things to get home for and I wanted to be back for the start of what turned out to be a thrilling Belgian Grand Prix, so we turned right then left for Curlew Lane. I had the good fortune to time my run to the front just as a Lancs RC rider out on a solo ride came past the T-junction so I jumped on his rear wheel and avoided a bit of hard work. I was joined by Darren as we crossed the railway line and from here we passed the Martin Inn, where there must have been a major event of some sort on today given the presence of around 78 cars on the road outside, and then past the home of my Catlike Mixino just as we caught a pair of Mercury riders. We passed them in the act of crossing the A570 and continued westwards towards the road for Clieves Hill. At this point we caught a mixed group of riders consisting mainly of Phoenix CC members, but there was one lady in an HMCC jersey too. Having cleared them we turned right at the last opportunity before Clieves, which at least gave me the chance to dig a Clif bar out the squirrel snatcher and set about eating my starter prior to lunch at home, while Ian joined Darren out front. With me back to full power once more (I dread to think what Maxgear must think of someone needing two energy bars in less than 65 miles, there goes my chances of joining them) I could set about power-pedalling as Darren’s right-hand man (in more ways than one) as we crested the Col de Ship Inn and crossed the A5147. By the time we reached the end of the Haskayne Moss I’m sure I should have been disqualified F1-style for using more than 1,000 calories per hour (it’s 100kg of fuel/hour for a V6 turbo) but Darren didn’t know this and pulled alongside my nearly-dead legs saying “This is where it counts”. Well I was having none of it and used the final surge of cheat energy to good effect to sprint one last time over the bridge prior to the by-pass; no doubt his local gym will start extending their spin classes and expanding their juice bar range. After crossing the by-pass Darren turned right for home while me and Ian continued down Watchyard Lane to finalise the plans for tonight’s booze-up, before Ian turned right for home and I rounded up one last road biker on Altcar Road and arrived home at 12:40pm having covered 68 fast miles, just in time for next week’s long trip north.

Now for the results, powered by Clif White Chocolate Macadamia Nut Bars:

Distance: 109.24km/68.28 miles

Time: 3:16:45

Average Speed: 33.31kmh/20.82mph

Dead Inner Tubes: 1

Hors Cat Climbs: 0

Useless CO2 cartridges: At least 2

Fuel Usage: not good enough (2 bars in 68 miles)

Scariest Thought for 2015: Darren with Roval 60mm wheels and a set of clip-ons

REJECT OF THE RIDE: The daydreamer in Tarleton

(For taking the meaning of “driving a very wide car” to the next level)

Time to eat some Sunday dinner before heading over to Ormskirk. I’m not sure I’ll be able to stand up come 11pm, never mind start on the Sambuca shots……….