Social night

Last night was social night.  My first ever with my new club.  I like saying that, "my club".  It gives me a proud glow of satisfaction, a sense of belonging and a feeling of commitment. I am now officially a proper cyclist not just a commuter.  That's what it does for me.

So, the meet being in Warrington at 8pm I opted to drop in to my in laws who live the other side of W from the meet up point.  This turned out to be a most excellent plan as my 16 year old  nephew likes to bake.  Apple cake to eat in and lemon drizzle to take away.  Add to that a cuppa and some great company from nephew and SIL Heather and all was lovely.  I had printed myself directions to get to the club and allowed 30% more time than google suggested and off I went.  Discovered a lot of interesting back roads but found the sports club in the end.  Went upstairs to find the bar and hadn't a clue who I was looking for.  Back down the stairs and asked at reception.  Followed directions and was somewhat taken aback by what I saw.  Men.  Nothing but men.  Lots of men.  Ages from maybe 30 through to potentially 70 (this could be an exaggeration).  Absolutely terrifying to try to walk into that group unsure of myself.  Fortunately there at the bar was Karl, the rider I'd met twice before, once on my first club run at Wildboorclough and secondly at Llandegla when nobody else turned up.  Fortified with an orange juice and lemonade and with Karl by my side I advanced into the group seeking a chair.  In honesty I  have to say not one welcoming glance / eye contact from this group of strangers, not a warm smile.   However, I have a right to be here so I plonk myself down and focus on intermittent chat with Karl and checking out my surroundings while waiting for the speakers.

Three really informative chats from club members, first one on Audaxes (these sound like the cycling geek's equivalent of heaven), second on Go Race, an initiative headed up by my own organisation I knew nothing about and third Time Trials (the traditional blazer wearer's cycling option).  All in all, I warmed to the place, laughed, even spoke to a stranger and paid up my membership fee.

I am a club member.

Lantern Pike

Having made some somewhat rickety plans for the weekend involving Penmachno trail and camping, Friday night loomed, and the weather looked dodgy so opted to stay in Friday with a box of red wine at my side and get out Saturday somewhere local instead.

I decided to try out another of the magnificent Henry Tindell Mountain bike routes.  This is his ace little book on Amazon.  Outside of that, the man appears to have no fame and fortune.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Mountain-Bike-Guide-North-Midlands/dp/0948153776


His books include little throwaway comments such as "requires skill and stamina", and you know damn well that if that's the case one or other will eventually fail you and you'll end up pushing the bike.  But it does give a girl something to aim for.  Opted for his lovely little route starting at Roman Lakes

http://www.romanlakes.co.uk/

Doesn't it look lovely?  Reality is it's basic but has everything you could need.  Parking, toilets and a kiosk selling tea in polystyrene cups to be drunk on the outdoor picnic tables.   A darling little route took me round by Rowarth and lovely sounding places such as Lantern Pike.  One day I will learn that the word "Pike" in an English place name generally means highest place around, watch out for exposure and climbing.  For there was much climbing and also pushing of bike. 

It was just over half way, outside this lovely place that some kind of minor disaster struck.  http://www.moorfieldarms.com/ not quite a puncture but not quite manageable.  On trying to pump up a slightly soggy tyre, the valve came off the inner tube in my hands.  Took the wind right out of my sails.  Shoulders sag, the works, even though in reality the change of tube only takes ten minutes tops, and the weather wasn't bucketing down.

Some  navigational defects (oops) led me the wrong way around a golf course so I ended up sailing down steps which were very long and very many in quantity before sloughing round to some cottages and getting myself back on track.  I can, however say the best fun descent of the day was coming down from Linnett Clough scout camp down a rocky muddy downwards bound bridleway and encountering scout patrol after scout patrol.  Leaders had them gently scatter to either side and on sailed I.  Back to the end for a nice cup of tea and a deep breath.