Week 8 - First county of 2023 in the bag.
Weekly distance – 256km
Distance since start of plan – 1753km
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Cheshire was the destination for county number twenty-nine and was the first since the end of October.
With daylight limited an early alarm call was needed to get me to the historic town of Chester for daybreak. My planned early bedtime was defeated by the discovery of a broken rear spoke as I gave my Kinesis, ex-cyclocross race bike now winter hack the once over. I managed to replace the spoke fairly straightforwardly but nevertheless lost the luxury of an extra hours sleep.
A trouble-free two-hour journey up my least favourite motorway, the M6, saw me arrive at my planned parking spot in the city centre, just outside the town’s red sandstone walls shortly after 7:30 am. Unfortunately I hadn’t took the time to check the parking regulations and unless I could ride 185km in three hours and fit in a trip to Lidl or a riverboat cruise I was potentially looking at an £85 parking fine. So I jumped back in the car and parked up in the multi-storey round the corner.
The downside with tackling these county rides in winter other than the obvious need to layer up appropriately, is the reduced daylight hours limiting the time available for photo stops and mooching around. The rhino made from waste plastic outside Chester cathedral gave me an early contender for the compulsory bike leaning up a sculpture photo.
The need to get back to Chester before dusk was given added importance due to a preparation cock-up on my part. I’ve been riding with a handy Moon MX light for some time, it doubles up as a Garmin mount and provides a good, get-me-home, level of light, ideal if my main light fails. This is all well and good so long as it’s fitted to my bike rather than ninety-miles away on charge at home. This left me with one mount and a choice of whether to fit my Garmin 530 or my new Magicshine RN 3000 light to my handlebar. So once it got dark I would be left with the choice of being able to see the road in front of me but no idea of my route or knowing the route but being unseen to drivers around me and oblivious to the road conditions in front of me.
With my light in my back pocket I set off determined to at least make it back to the outskirts of Chester before I needed to fit the light for safety sake.
Chester is blessed with some magnificent buildings as well as remnants from it’s Roman rulers who planned to use the town and it’s location for onward invasion into Wales and sailing to Ireland. A return with more time to spare is definitely needed.
The Shropshire Union Canal provided an easy route out of the city; developed for cycling the towpath was mostly good quality asphalt or compact gravel, but there were a few highly irritating sections of teeth-chattering “corrugated” concrete.
By default, on these rides I tend to ignore “Road Closed” signs and take a chance on being able to squeeze through somehow, ignoring the sign as I left Winsford frustratingly proved to be the wrong call as the bridge over the River Weaver was completely impassable resulting in backtracking two kilometers to cross back over the river.
But every cloud has a silver lining and the diversion along the traffic-free Weaver way proved to be an interesting and enjoyable route highlighting the history of the towns salt-mine and the role the river played transporting the salt on to Liverpool for export.
The tree of imagination – dedicated to “all children and those still young at heart” was an unusual and slightly bizarre creation encountered in the little village of Lower Peover shortly before arriving in Knutsford.
Knutsford itself was a surprise to me, there is actually quite a lot more to Knutsford than a motorway service station!
Close to the “Golden Triangle” or “football belt” of affluent small towns popular with Premier League footballers and rich businessmen and women Knutsford is a tidy and well-appointed market town in its own right, located at one end of town is the gate to Tatton Park, formerly the lavish Tudor Hall and estate of the Egerton family, now owned by the National Trust, a popular attraction throughout the year.
Alderley Edge forms one of the corners of the golden triangle but the purpose of my visit there was not to gawp at footballers’ luxury pads but instead to climb Swiss Hill a notorious steep cobbled climb. An earlier shower left the large moss-covered cobbles treacherously slippy and at the steepest section where the road swung to the right I struggled to gain any traction either on the crown of the carriageway or the slightly less green gutter and with my heart racing and thighs burning I feared a walk of shame, in the saddle my front wheel was popping up in the air bouncing from cobble to cobble, but get out of the saddle and the rear wheel spun hopelessly and momentum disappeared, just as I thought about quitting an elderly gentleman climbed out of his car and shouted keep going you’ve done the steep bit. I really couldn’t quit pedalling now, luckily with a couple more pedal strokes the end of the cobbles came into view and with a sigh of relief I pulled up at the street sign and thought to myself that Swiss Hill had proved as challenging as the legendary Koppenberg and Paterberg climbs I had tackled in Flanders. The cobbles were tidier and more uniform than their Belgian counterparts but in the damp February conditions the lack of grip was just as challenging.
I had well and truly left the flat plains of west Cheshire behind me now and all of the days climbing would be upon me as soon I left Bollington. The Brickworks climb was a longish steady affair, which from a nondescript start blossomed into an open, remote, moorland climb with fantastic views across the peaks and dramatic little white water clefts in the hills running alongside the road.
With the climbing complete and a very sketchy descent avoiding deep potholes and ridges of farm traffic mud, and other dark-coloured squishy bike unfriendly stuff safely negotiated I treated myself to a spectacularly good bacon and sausage bap along with a “not your fancy Starbucks coffee” from the Forest Snug food van next to the rangers hut in Macclesfield Forest. If your in the forest do stop by the Forest Snug, the food was great local fare and the chef/owner was a chirpy Northern character who had a little gag and quip for everyone he served.
Shortly after my one cafe stop of the day the weather deteriorated with intermittent squally showers blown in on a strong and consistent headwind taking their toll.
I pressed on for a couple of hours planning not to stop again to make full use of the daylight available but as I reached the staircase locks at Bunbury I decided a quick photo stop and tucking in to my favourite Veloforte Zenzero energy bar would set me up better for the last thirty kilometres than pushing on regardless just trying to save time.
The short stop and topping up of energy reserves worked wonders with the remaining flat, rural lanes passing by quickly. It was only as I reached the outskirts of Chester that I needed to abandon the Garmin in favour of light and took a chance on me finding way back to the car without my trusty Komoot route to guide me.
Inevitably a couple of wrong turns had me fishing the Garmin out of my jersey pocket to get back on course but I was safely back at the car and county number 29 was ticked off the list just as darkness fell. Lesson learned, I think next time my lights and mounts will be triple checked before leaving home.
The ride in numbers
184.45km distance
1743m ascent
4 classified climbs
8 hours 50 minutes
20.8 km/h
1 coffee
4 bottles of water
5 energy gels (Torq Rhubarb and custard & apple crumble)
2 Veloforte energy bars (Zenzero & Di Bosco)
0 punctures
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